Will our sweet love turn into sour patched tear jerkers or will he be my big hunk, now & later and forever?

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I dared her to spend a hot, no-strings weekend with me. Now I’m determined to keep her forever.
More Than Dare You, an all-new steamy, single dad romance from New York Times bestselling author Shayla Black, is available now!
I’m Trace Weston, recently reformed womanizer. In the blink of an eye, I went from busy bachelor to full-time single dad. My life was already complicated before my sister-in-law asked me to show off my bedroom skills to her bestie, who’s wanting to experience real pleasure now that her one-and-only long-term relationship is over. Gorgeous Masey Garrett isn’t my “usual.” She’s shy, sassy, driven, and incredibly kind. Suddenly I’m falling fast…but she’s only mine for a night.
What’s a former player to do? Change the rules.
Now she’s under my roof night after night, letting me into her body and her life. Her heart? Not so much. She loves my newborn son. Me? I can’t tell. I’m pulling out all the stops to win her over, but she’s not taking me seriously. Other than passion, how can I reach her? Every attempt only pulls me deeper under her spell. Sure, I could drop an L bomb…except that once imploded my heart. But when her past collides with my desired future, can I risk everything and dare Masey to stay with me forever?
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About Shayla
Shayla Black is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of nearly eighty novels. For over twenty years, she’s written contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances via traditional, independent, foreign, and audio publishers. Her books have sold millions of copies and been published in a dozen languages.
Raised an only child, Shayla occupied herself with lots of daydreaming, much to the chagrin of her teachers. In college, she found her love for reading and realized that she could have a career publishing the stories spinning in her imagination. Though she graduated with a degree in Marketing/Advertising and embarked on a stint in corporate America to pay the bills, her heart has always been with her characters. She’s thrilled that she’s been living her dream as a full-time author for the past eight years.
Shayla currently lives in North Texas with her wonderfully supportive husband, her daughter, and two spoiled tabbies. In her “free” time, she enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic blend of music.
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I hate him.
I want him.
He’s a jerk.
A player.
Addicting.
Trouble.
“Roses are red, violets are blue, stay away from Andrew Watson’s *ahem* because no other women ever do.”
That’s quite the way to start a conversation at a casual lunch, huh? Grilled chicken, French fries, and pelvic-fatigue, oh my!
And that’s not even the worst of it.
My friend Raquel didn’t pull any punches when she warned me about my brand-new co-star and his notoriously player-esque ways. Apparently, my most important mission on my first role in a feature film is to stay immune to his charms.
Are you kidding me? Production costs on this movie are in the hundreds of thousands a day, and staying away from a panty-whispering, vajayjay-charmer is supposed to be at the top of my list? Pfft. Puh-lease.
It doesn’t matter that he’s annoyingly attractive, uber rich, crazy famous, and lusted after by ninety percent of the female population; Andrew Watson is trouble with a capital T—especially for a woman like me.
As a preventative measure, I’ve decided to go ahead and hate him.
Don’t worry, you guys, I’m completely in control. There’s absolutely no way I’m going to do something stupid like fall in love with him.
I can hate the player but still secretly love his addictive game.
I’m sure of it.
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Excerpt
Birdie True to my name, I’m about to take fucking flight. At least, I would if I could. In this moment, it really would have been helpful if my trainer hadn’t successfully eliminated all the extra flappy meat on my upper arms. Surely, if I got them going fast enough, the wind beneath those bat wings could have carried me up and through the ceiling of this place. C’mon, you big baby, I coach myself. You can do this. One cavernous breath into my lungs and then another and another, and eventually, just before my vision turns tunneled, I will my feet to move away from the door. Gleaming marble floors, golden statues, and a freaking fountain in the center, the lobby of Capo Brothers Studios is everything I should have expected and more. If everything is bigger in Texas, then everything is most certainly richer in LA. I check in with security quickly, my voice only a little croaky thanks to the frog in my throat, and head for the elevator bank at the far side of the lobby. I’m to head to the fifteenth floor, I’m told, and then go straight down the hall to the glass doors on the left at the end. There, I’ll find William Capo’s office—the head honcho and only surviving brother of Capo Brothers. My cowgirl boots are noisy on the marble floors when I do as instructed. The sound you make when you walk is such a small detail—one I don’t normally think about—but the echo of their clack today makes my heart feel like it’s knocking into my rib cage and each step across the ornate floor is merely a sound effect. Fifteen floors eclipse quickly—clearly, they’ve spared no expense on their elevator—and the hallway that leads to William’s office seems strangely one-directional. Like once I go down it—once I take this step—there will be no going back. Which is probably why, after forcing myself to go the distance to the end, I pause at the open door, the points of my booted toes just shy of crossing the line. “Good morning.” A pretty assistant dressed in a white power suit greets me before I’ve even cleared the threshold of the door, and all thoughts of escape are dashed. Like it or not, I’ve just been shoved over the line. I will my feet to do the same as she continues to speak. “Can I help you?” “I’m Birdie Harris,” I answer and have to swallow hard against the dryness threatening to close my throat. “I have an audition.” My nerves are so obvious, the assistant offers a sympathetic smile. If she were from my childhood hometown in West Virginia, she’d most likely be thinking Bless her heart. She taps something across the keyboard of her iMac and places her hand to the Bluetooth at her ear. “Mr. Capo, I have Birdie Harris here.” Immediately, she looks away from the computer and meets my eyes. “They’ll be ready for you shortly. You can take a seat over there.” She points behind me, back through the door and across the hall to what I’m assuming is a fancy-schmancy waiting room of some sort. I haven’t encountered a place in the building that doesn’t have some sort of gilded or marble inlay, so I highly doubt I’m going to step through that door and into a room styled by the set designer for Saw. Though, I can’t say some sort of torture device wouldn’t be completely misplaced right now. I’m already doing a pretty good job of mentally waterboarding myself with worry. I offer a little nod, keeping my twisted, sicko thoughts to myself. I doubt they’re interested in hiring a woman on the brink of a hysterical episode. The secretary quirks a brow, and I realize, though I’ve nodded my affirmation of understanding, I’ve yet to move. Good God, Birdie! Go sit down. Annoyed with myself, I turn on my boots and march across the hall so violently, it’s like there’s an invisible person helping me along with a heavy hand at the nape of my neck. When I cross into the room, a man is sitting on a swanky leather sofa with his booted feet up on the coffee table. He glances up briefly before returning his eyes to the phone in his lap. Embarrassed, I smooth my clomps instantly. You’re a gazelle, Birdie, not a herd of buffalo, I coach. Move like it. With his attention occupied, I survey him more closely as I move to take a seat across from him. He’s wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt, and his jawline would make steel beams look weak. Seriously. Confronted with an earthquake, I would seek shelter right under the eave of his jaw. I’d love to get another peek at his eyes just to study the color, but fearing the eye contact that would require, I’m careful not to make any overt noises that might draw his attention again. When he smirks, a devilish proposition-like smile at the screen of his phone, I don’t have to wonder anymore. Oh no. I know exactly who this man is. Andrew Watson. The very man Rocky warned me about and I subsequently Instagram stalked. A laundry list of different women dotted through his timeline, it confirmed everything Rocky told me and then some. All relaxed and cool, he sits on the white leather sofa with one arm outstretched across the back. Confidence and charm ooze from every freaking cell in his body. No doubt, Andrew Watson is more than capable of commanding the attention of everyone in the room, no matter the situation. No wonder he’s one of Hollywood’s most famous actors. The only time I have that kind of quiet confidence is when I’m onstage, singing my songs, lost in the music I created. Just play it cool, Birdie. On a deep breath, I force the uncertainty and unease out of my shoulders and settle my ass into the sofa across from him. He shifts again, crossing one ankle over the other and casually adjusting the denim at his crotch. My eyes are immediately drawn to his bulge, and thanks to Rocky’s colorful descriptions of his favorite appendage, a little penis-shaped soldier is burned in my brain. After a few seconds of imagining the shape of his helmet and intensity of his salute, I jerk my gaze away in a panic. Jesus. As if this audition wasn’t screwing with my head enough! Now I have Saving Ryan’s Privates, a military-themed porno my head just made up starring Staff Sergeant Dick Richardson, complicating things even more! I must make a noise I don’t realize—the sound of my saliva gurgling in my throat while I choke on it, perhaps—because Andrew looks at me with curious eyes. I try like hell to keep my calm and act like I haven’t just gone to mental war with the soldier in his pants, but there’s only so much hysteria containment my mind is capable of. “Uh…hi,” I say, trying so dang hard not to glance back down at his crotch that I start spewing diarrhea of the mouth about goddamn military-themed movies. “I never saw A Few Good Men, but I hear Tom Cruise was good in it.” When I realize what I’ve just said makes absolutely no sense to him—punctuated perfectly by his eyebrows drawing together noticeably—the gurgling saliva turns into a full-blown choke, and suddenly, the only way to breathe is through a hacking cough. Holy shit, I’m too anxious to be around other humans right now! Also, I’m going to kill Rocky for putting this crap in my head about this guy’s penis. “Are you okay?” he asks, and I hold up my hand in some kind of gesture. I’m not sure of its technical name, but its meaning is clear—please forget I exist right now. He asks me once more, but I nod, and once the embarrassing coughing fit passes, I meet his piercingly gray-blue eyes—seeing their color is strikingly unavoidable now—and I offer a halfhearted smile. “Sorry,” I apologize. I didn’t mean to drag him into an impromptu SNL sketch where I choke on spit and say ridiculously inappropriate, off-the-wall things. “I guess you could say I’m a little nervous.” His responding smile gleams so bright, I have to wonder if he has an endorsement deal with Crest toothpaste. His mouth would make a dental hygienist get on their hands and knees and thank the Lord above. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. There’s no need to be nervous around me,” he responds, punctuating his words with a wink. If my mind were a screenplay, the nerves would be exiting stage left. Did he seriously just wink at me after assuming that I’m nervous to be in his presence? Surely, I’m hearing this wrong. No one is that obsessed with themselves…right? “Excuse me?” I ask, and his megawatt smile is still ever-present. “If you’d like me to sign an autograph or take a selfie with you,” he enunciates slowly, as if my being able to understand him clearly was the problem. “I can probably sneak that in before I have to head in there.” His autograph? You have got to be kidding me. He sure is a cocky bastard—and for the first time today, I’m not even talking about his dick. Like the tip of a match being swiped across the edge of a matchbook, aggravation bursts into my veins. “I’m here for an audition,” I assert. Unfazed, he quirks a brow as if to say, my invitation for an autograph still stands. Attractive or not, this guy is one of the biggest asses I’ve ever been around. “I’m Birdie Harris. I’m auditioning for the role of Arizona Lee.” And I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna land this acting gig just to spite this prick.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
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Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/
Stone Rivers is a sin I can’t commit.
After years of playing the trophy, puppet, perfectionist, I’ve forgotten who I am. Until the boy from my past walks back into my life. Handsome as sin, charming beyond belief—Stone Rivers is temptation personified.
Our combustible chemistry shatters my resolve. His blistering kisses remind me of everything I used to want.
But, our present is just as messy as our past. And reckless as it may be, I can’t let him go.
My name is Regan Wilde. I’m a mother, a sister, a daughter.
But Stone and I? We’re a scandal in the making.
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Excerpt:
“I’m not that boy either, I don’t think I’ve got one foot in the grave, but relationships aren’t my thing. I used to think you’d be mine--.” “You did?” She asks wide eyed with surprise. “--when I was too young to know better.” I finish. “And now?” “Now…” I turn my gaze away, a caught off guard by the direct question. I run a hand through my hair while I pick my words carefully. “Now, there’s some nostalgia for the past. But 99.5% of this is just a man who is insanely attracted to a woman who speaks his language in more ways than one. Your pussy feels great, tastes great too. I want more of it. But I’m not going to fall in love or anything... so, you don’t have to worry that I’ll stab your husband.” Her bark of laughter seems to surprise her as much as it surprises me. “I was thinking more like uncomfortable silences and dark glares.” “Not my style.” I assure her. Her lips twist. “Well, then let me speak for myself. I don’t want to end up with my feelings fucked. Clearly, I’m not in the best place emotionally. Maybe…we should just play it by ear. See how we feel once we’re all alone.” I couldn’t disagree more, but I’m not going to pressure her about this. “It’ll be great, either way, and I’ll take my cues from you.” I say and I mean it. Maybe when this is over, we’ll walk away friends again. At the very worst, she’ll be excellent company. And I know that we don’t need sex to connect. From our time in the bakery and that shuttle ride, I also know that Regan will break all sorts of rules when she thinks no one is watching. And we’re going to have plenty of alone time in the next few days. “I was going to leave at 9, is that too early?” I ask. She looks at me, her dark eyes twinkling, her smile wider than I’ve seen it since we’ve been here. “Right now wouldn’t be too early.” She declares and then jumps up. “Oh my God,” she screams suddenly and flops onto her back, clutching a pillow to her chest and kicking her legs wildly. “Woah!” I lurch back in surprise when she pops back up in a flash of dark hair and gleaming white teeth. “I’m so excited. I’ve never done anything like this. I can’t believe it.” “It won’t be luxurious like this. I don’t even know where I’m staying in Balandra.” “But it’ll be an adventure,” her enthusiasm in unflagging. “Do you speak Spanish?” “A little?” She says with a nervous grin. “Okay. Just don’t buy anything without me haggling for you, okay?” “Okay. So, we’re going? Really?” Her expression is hopeful but tinged with fear. Like she’s just been given the chance to have something she wants desperately and she’s afraid to believe it. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen her, and it takes my breath away. In a flash of certainty, I know that I’d move heaven and earth before I let that hope on her face do anything but flourish. “Yes, really. It’ll be fun at the very worst and at it’s very best, it will be life changing,” I say. She laughs and rolls her eyes. “I’ll be happy if it’s not a total disaster and I come home with all of my limbs intact.” “Oh, then you’re going to be ecstatic. Because you’re going to learn things about yourself you can’t know until you go to a place you’ve never been before.” “Wow. You’re really good at selling the idea of travel.” “I’m an evangelist for it.” She starts to dance around Maybe living in Houston won’t be so bad. Especially if we can find a way to keep this going. No. I can’t let myself start thinking like that. When I move back to Houston, it won’t matter. There, she’s so off limits, it’s not even funny. No, what happens here is going to stay here. But as I watch Regan Wilde's sexy ass twirl around her hotel room with that horizon at her back, I get a glimpse of another unknowable destination - one where my future and my past collide, and then click into place.
My Review:The Jezebel by Dylan Allen
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
An intense emotional roller coaster. Regan has incredible strength. She has the world at her feet with a grandfather that will do anything for her. She meets Stone as a teenager. Stone is a 10-year-old genius that is struggling in a new school with a family this is falling apart. Regan becomes a light in his darkness and helps him find his path. This unexpected friendship gets derailed. Regan finds her foundation shaken in college but she pulls herself up and forges on but ends up in a loveless marriage. Losing one of her best friends sends her on a trip to Mexico where she realizes that it’s time to make some changes. On this trip, she runs into a grown-up Stone and allows herself to experience the week of her life. Stone is shocked to see Regan again. His love for her has never died, can he convince her to take a risk with him? There is so much drama and mystery behind the events that shaped Regan and Stone’s lives. Just when I thought I knew what to expect, a new surprise would punch me in the gut and I would think, how does she go on from this? There is incredible passion and love that both Regan and Stone use to weather all the challenges tossed in their path. I read this book using Kindle Unlimited.
Rachel Bradford is finally living her dream as the star of her own interior design show. But ratings are slipping, and if she wants to save the show, she has to set an episode in the hometown she fled. Worst of all, she’s going to have to work with the cocky bad boy who humiliated her.
Single dad, Beckett Colburn plans to turn an old fire station into a neighborhood bar. He’s blindsided when he discovers his family made a deal to turn his dream into a reality TV project. He’d rather run into a burning builing than work with his childhood nemesis–on camera.
But it’s not easy with a TV crew in town stirring up trouble, spreading rumors, creating buzz. Not to mention the inconvenient sudden attraction that sparks every time Rachel and Beckett fight.
Natasha Moore fell in love with the written word as soon as she could read. She’s the author of more than twenty romances, and believes that stories of love and hope are important. Love can happen at any age and she often writes about vibrant and passionate characters finding love later in life. She’s a snowbird, spending the winters in sunny Florida, and the rest of the year in beautiful western New York with her real life hero who is happy to tell everyone that he’s her inspiration.
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“I laughed, I cried, I swooned. I adored every minute! An absolute MUST READ for all romance lovers!" --A.L. Jackson, New York Times bestselling author
His love was a secret her heart couldn’t keep...
The Jezebel, a steamy forbidden, second chance romance by USA Today bestselling author, Dylan Allen is available now!
Stone Rivers is a sin I can’t commit.
After years of playing the trophy, puppet, perfectionist, I’ve forgotten who I am. Until the boy from my past walks back into my life. Handsome as sin, charming beyond belief—Stone Rivers is temptation personified.
Our combustible chemistry shatters my resolve. His blistering kisses remind me of everything I used to want.
But, our present is just as messy as our past. And reckless as it may be, I can’t let him go.
My name is Regan Wilde. I’m a mother, a sister, a daughter.
But Stone and I? We’re a scandal in the making.
Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling 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.
Connect with Dylan
💜💜 COVER REVEAL 💜💜
Bespoken by Dr. Rebecca Sharp is coming September 10th! Don’t miss a captivating and emotional romance where sparks fly from opposite sides of the track and ignite a love that can't be denied.... #Pre-order today!