Friday, September 30, 2016

Spotlight: Race the Darkness (Fatal Dreams #1) by Abbie Roads

Race the Darkness
Fatal Dreams #1
Abbie Roads
Sourcebooks Casablanca
October 4, 2016

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Cursed with a terrible gift...

Criminal investigator Xander Stone doesn’t have to question you—he can hear your thoughts. Scarred by lightning, burdened with a power that gives him no peace, Xander struggles to maintain his sanity against the voice that haunts him day and night—the voice of a woman begging him to save her.

A gift that threatens to engulf them.

Isleen Walker has long since given up hope of escape from the nightmare of captivity and torture that is draining her life, her mind, and her soul. Except…there is the man in her feverish dreams, the strangely beautiful man who beckons her to freedom and wholeness. And when he comes, if he comes, it will take all their combined fury and faith to overcome a madman bent on fulfilling a deadly prophecy.

“Take her. Protect her. Heal her. Save her from Queen.” The malnourished figure crawling on the floor spoke again, urgency riding each of her words. 
Save her from Queen. Recognition slammed into him, knocking him to his knees.
…and no one other than Queen will ever remember we existed. Queen—not a typical name. 
“Fuck me.” A burr gouged into his heart. The woman lying on the floor was the woman. The one inside his head. She wasn’t a figment of a fucked mind. She was naked and emaciated and—oh, Christ—looked like a corpse. 
Guilt choked in his throat—a lump too big to swallow, too awful to taste. She’d tried to tell him she was suffering and needed help. What had he done? Buried her words under a gallon of liquor and a barrel of self-pity. All those nights when he’d felt so restless, if he’d just gotten in his truck, would he have driven here? Found her before it was too late? 
The woman’s cheekbones jutted so sharply they nearly cut through the skin. Tufts of blond hair grew in patches along her hairline. And yet, superimposed over what his eyes took in, his mind filled in the gaps, added flesh to her cheeks, fullness to her eyes, and pale-blond hair to her head. Somehow, he saw beyond what lay before him to what might have been. She would’ve been beautiful. Radiant in an angelic way words couldn’t adequately describe. 
“Oh, God.” He was the worst sort of asshole. Had always been a selfish bastard, owned that about himself, but this—this was a low he’d never be able to crawl out of. He couldn’t just rationalize away his lack of action all this time. 
The spot where his heart should be throbbed. His hand shook like someone coming off the sauce as he reached for her, touching her neck, feeling for a pulse, though he knew there was no way she could be alive. 
Her skin nearly froze his fingers. Death did that to a person, stole their warmth along with their life. Her eyelids fluttered, stuttered, and opened, locking directly on him, pinning him with her gaze. 
Logical thought tumbled out of his head, splashing onto the floor. His body went into suspended animation mode. 
She swallowed, wincing as if the action hurt. “Xander?” 
Every word in his vocabulary vanished behind a nearly impenetrable wall of shock and disbelief. 
“Is it really you?” Her words were barely a breath of sound. “Or am I dreaming?” 
He understood what she was saying, just couldn’t pluck any response out of the emptiness in his mind. 
Her face scrunched up, and a soft, dry sob hacked in her throat. “You’re just a dream. Why can’t I just die?” 
Seeing her hurting, seeing her pain, finally dissolved his mental paralysis. “Oh, God. I’m here.” He gripped her face in one hand. Her expression relaxed as if his touch eased her. “I’m real. You’re safe.” He swiped his thumb over her chin, felt it tremble at his touch. 
Sorrow faded from her eyes, but other emotions filled the void—more emotions than he knew what to do with. He didn’t need to be Freud to see the adoration and the hero worship. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the good guy here.” His tone was overflowing with self-loathing and guilt for not finding her years ago. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” 
“Isleen.” One side of her mouth twitched like she was trying to smile. “You’re real. You’re really real.” The smile faded. “Where’s Gran? You have to save Gran too.” 
Her eyes closed, her chest popped up and down in exaggerated breaths too unnatural to be normal. He yanked his cell phone from his pocket. 
“Isleen, you stay with me now. You hang on.” He dialed 911, waited for the operator to pick up. Ring-ring. Pause. Ring-ring. Pause. Ring-ring. “Pick the fuck up.” Ring-ring
“911, what is your—” 
“The last road I remember is County Road 95. A trailer in the middle of cornfields. I just found two women being held against their will. They both need an ambulance.” 
“Sir, can you tell me…” 
The growl of his truck’s engine grabbed Xander’s attention. The Crazy One—he’d forgotten about her—had stolen his truck. This day was full of happy damned surprises. The sound of his truck faded and got further away, but then the direction changed and the roar of pedal-to-the-metal screamed at him. What was she doing? Even as the question flittered through his consciousness, the answer came to him. His truck was about to meet the trailer. 
He dropped the phone and grabbed Isleen. 
The room exploded.

By day, Abbie Roads is a mental health professional known for her blunt, honest style of therapy. By night she writes dark emotional novels, always giving her characters the happy ending she wishes for all her clients. Her novels have been finalists in RWA contests, including the Golden Heart. She lives with her family in Marion, OH.


Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Spotlight: The Trouble with Mistletoe (Heartbreaker Bay #2) by Jill Shalvis

 The Trouble with Mistletoe
Heartbreaker Bay #2
Jill Shalvis
September 27, 2016
Avon Books

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If she has her way . . .

Willa Davis is wrangling puppies when Keane Winters stalks into her pet shop with frustration in his chocolate-brown eyes and a pink bedazzled cat carrier in his hand. He needs a kitty sitter, stat. But the last thing Willa needs is to rescue a guy who doesn’t even remember her . . .

He’ll get nothing but coal in his stocking.

Saddled with his great-aunt’s Feline from Hell, Keane is desperate to leave her in someone else’s capable hands. But in spite of the fact that he’s sure he’s never seen the drop-dead-gorgeous pet shop owner before, she seems to be mad at him . . .

Unless he tempers “naughty” with a special kind of nice . . .

Willa can’t deny that Keane’s changed since high school: he’s less arrogant, for one thing—but can she trust him not to break her heart again? It’s time to throw a coin in the fountain, make a Christmas wish—and let the mistletoe do its work . . .

“You want to come upstairs, Willa?” 
What she wanted was to put her hands back on his chest now that she knew it was as hard as it looked. Instead she gripped either side of her seat with white knuckles. “Of course not.” 
“I think you do. I think you want something else too.” 
“What I want,” she said as coolly as she could, “is dinner as promised.” 
“Liar,” he chided softly. 
“Well that’s just rude, calling your date a liar.” 
“So it is a date.” His tone was very male and very smug. It should’ve pissed her off but instead it did something hot and erotic to her insides. 
Clearly knowing it, he smiled at her and then dragged his teeth over his lower lip as he contemplated her. 
Gah. She wanted to do that. And she wanted to do more too. She wanted him shockingly badly and suddenly she couldn’t remember why she shouldn’t. She tried to access her thought processes on the subject but her brain hiccupped and froze. Which surely was the only reason she let go of the death grip on her seat, slid her fingers into his hair, and . . . brushed her mouth over his. 
He didn’t move, not a single muscle, but when she pulled back, his eyes had gone dark as night, piercing her with their intensity. 
“Don’t read that the wrong way,” she whispered. 
“Is there a wrong way to take it when a beautiful woman kisses you?”



New York Times bestselling author Jill Shalvis lives in a small town in the Sierras full of quirky characters. Any resemblance to the quirky characters in her books is, um, mostly coincidental. Look for Jill’s bestselling, award-winning books wherever romances are sold and visit her website, www.jillshalvis.com, for a complete book list and daily blog detailing her city-girl-living-in-the-mountains adventures.


Monday, September 26, 2016

Spotlight: Sex Machine by Marie Force

Sex Machine
Marie Force
September 26, 2016
HTJB, Inc.

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He’s good for one thing and one thing only—and she wants it bad.

Honey Carmichael has never had a decent orgasm, and she’s out to change that with the one man in town known for his superior skill between the sheets.

Blake Dempsey is happy to help Honey with her “problem” as long as she knows he’s only interested in sex. His heart was broken when his high school girlfriend was killed in the car he was driving, and he has nothing to offer other than more orgasms than Honey can handle.

Which is just fine with her—until fantastic orgasms aren’t enough anymore for either of them and unexpected feelings turn hot sex into messy entanglement—and that most definitely wasn’t in the plans.

But you know what they say about plans…

A sexy, dirty stand-alone romance intended for MATURE audiences. If you can’t take the heat in Blake’s bedroom, stay out or you might get burned. You’ve been warned!

“I want you to fuck me.” I’m proud of the fact that I never blink as I stare into the baby blues of the man I just blatantly propositioned. In public, no less. 
Blake Dempsey chokes on a mouthful of beer, his eyes watering as beer meets lungs in an unholy alliance. 
For the first time since I walked into the dark, dank bar, my resolve begins to waver as I question the wisdom of this mission. But if I don’t take the bull by the horns, literally, I might never know why everyone else makes such a big freaking deal about sex. My best friend, Lauren, has assured me that Blake Dempsey is the answer to my most pressing problem. And she speaks from experience. 
Tentatively, I pat him on the back, hoping to get him breathing again so we can get back to our conversation, such as it is. Let’s face it—he’s no use to me dead. 
As he continues to hack beer out of his airway, people begin to take notice of us, which is the exact opposite of what I wanted. I’d planned to come into the dive bar where Blake has his end-of-the-day beer at exactly six thirty every night before heading home—alone—make my proposition and walk out of there with him. 
I hadn’t counted on him choking on his beer or having the eyes of every man in the place on me as I wait for him to recover and give me an answer. What if he says no? Men never say no to Honey Carmichael, which is part of my problem. I have a reputation for attracting them like bees to. . . well, honey. But I’ve never been tempted to keep one of them, thus my well-earned reputation as a love ’em and leave ’em kind of gal. 
It’s not my fault that I’m blessed with thick honey-blonde hair, brown eyes that made the boys start simpering over me in fifth grade and a rack that’s been getting me in trouble since high school. Not to mention the long legs that somehow manage to stay tanned year round and an ass that Tommy Lonergan once referred to as a work of art. So I’ve had my share of men. So what? The one thing I’ve never had is a decent orgasm with a man, which is why I’m still alone at almost thirty and happy that way. Most of the time. 
Blake finally quits sputtering long enough to look up at me with eyes still watery from coughing. “You wanna run that by me again?”

Marie Force is the New York Times bestselling author of more than 50 contemporary romances, including the Gansett Island Series, which has sold more than 2.3 million books, and the Fatal Series from Harlequin Books, which has sold more than 1.2 million books. In addition, she is the author of the Green Mountain Series as well as the erotic romance Quantum Series, written under the slightly modified name of M.S. Force. All together, her books have sold more than 5 million copies worldwide!

Her goals in life are simple—to finish raising two happy, healthy, productive young adults, to keep writing books for as long as she possibly can and to never be on a flight that makes the news. 

Join Marie’s mailing list on her website at marieforce.com for news about new books and upcoming appearances in your area. Follow her on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/MarieForceAuthor, on Twitter @marieforce and on Instagram at www.instagram.com/marieforceauthor/.


Sunday, September 25, 2016

Spotlight: Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite #5) by Catherine Bybee

Not Quite Perfect
Not Quite #5
Catherine Bybee
September 20, 2016
Montlake Romance

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With true love, there’s no such thing as a safe distance. 

Mary Kildare knows how to read people. It’s both why she makes a great therapist and why she refuses to trust the average bachelor. Staying fiercely independent has been her primary relationship strategy—until wealthy playboy pilot (and commitmentphobe) Glen Fairchild reappears in her life. After a yearlong teasing tug-of-war, Mary and Glen test the waters of attraction, only to find that their physical chemistry runs deeper than flirtation.

At first, a bicoastal romance suits them both—especially since Glen can swoop in and whisk Mary away on one of his company’s planes. But no matter how close they get, they’re still three thousand miles apart. And when Mary’s life is threatened, Glen realizes the one luxury he doesn’t have is time. Can he close the distance between them before it’s too late?

Mary started to leave the gift shop before remembering why she was there. 
Doing her best to ignore Glen as he stepped up to the register to purchase the last stuffed toy, Mary randomly grabbed half a doze candy bars and waited fro her to turn. 
The seventy-plus-year-old woman behind the counter offered a full smile as she rang up Glen’s purchase. “Are you a pilot?” 
Mary had a strong urge to roll her eyes. 
“Yes, ma’am.” 
“It’s always so nice to see those clean white uniforms. So few young ment pay attention to their whites.” 
“It’s hard to attract the attention of beautiful women wearing dingy yellow,” he told her. 
She blushed at Glen’s words as she handed him his change. “I’m sure you have no trouble there.” 
He had the nerve to glance over his shoulder at Mary. 
Instead of pretending she wasn’t listening, Mary met his eyes. 
“You’d be surprised,” Glen told the clerk. 
He took the bagged-up monkey and took two steps back and waited. 
Mary dumped the candy on the counter while Glen stared. 
“What?” she asked him. 
“Well, that explains why you’re so uptight.” 
She narrowed her eyes and looked down. 
“Excuse me?” 
“Women need chocolate on occasion.” 
Her breath caught in her throat. “It’s not . . .” 
“It’s okay, Mary. Everything makes sense.” 
“It isn’t . . . it’s for Walt.” 
Glen looked beyond her at the volunteer behind the register and winked. “I’m sure it is.” 
“It is.” The fact that he was insinuating she was on her cycle had her wanting to toss the candy at him. The last thing she wanted to discuss was something as personal as her period. 
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 
The man made her want to scream. 
She snatched dollar bills from her purse, tossed them on the counter, then took Walt’s bag of chocolate before storming out of the gift shop without taking her change. 
As she expected, Glen followed behind. 
She hit the button to the elevator twice. “You were going to give that poor woman in the gift shop a heart attack.” 
“Is that right.” 
A woman and a toddler moved to stand beside them. 
Once the elevator arrived and six people filed out, they pushed in and stood in silence until the mom and son left o the third floor. 
“Do you flirt with everyone who wears a bra?” 
Glen glanced at the ceiling, “Was she wearing a bra?”




New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bybee was raised in Washington State, but after graduating high school, she moved to Southern California in hopes of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full-time and has penned the Weekday Brides Series and the Not Quite Series. Bybee lives with her two teenage sons in Southern California.  

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Friday, September 23, 2016

Spotlight: The Soldier's Scoundrel by Cat Sebastian

The Soldier's Scoundrel
Cat Sebastian
September 20, 2016
Avon Impulse

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A scoundrel who lives in the shadows...

Jack Turner grew up in the darkness of London’s slums, born into a life of crime and willing to do anything to keep his belly full and his siblings safe. Now he uses the tricks and schemes of the underworld to help those who need the kind of assistance only a scoundrel can provide. His distrust of the nobility runs deep and his services do not extend to the gorgeous high-born soldier who personifies everything Jack will never be.

A soldier untarnished by vice...

After the chaos of war, Oliver Rivington craves the safe predictability of a gentleman’s life-one that doesn’t include sparring with a ne’er-do-well who flouts the law at every turn. But Jack tempts Oliver like no other man has before. Soon his yearning for the unapologetic criminal is only matched by Jack’s pleasure in watching his genteel polish crumble every time they’re together.

Two men only meant for each other.

Jack absently skimmed his finger along the surface of his desk, tracing a swirl through the sand he had used to blot his notes. Another case was solved and done with, another gentleman too drunk on his own power and consequence to remember to pay servants and tradesmen, too dissipated to bother being faithful to his wife. Nearly every client’s problems were variations on that same theme. Jack might have been bored if he weren’t so angry. 
A knock sounded at the door, a welcome distraction. His sister always knocked, as if she didn’t want to interrupt whatever depravities Jack was conducting on the other side of the door. She did it out of an excess of consideration, but Jack still felt like she was waiting for him to do something unspeakable at any moment. 
She was right, of course, but still it grated. 
“Come in, Sarah.“
“There’s a gentleman here to see you,” she said, packing a world of both disapproval and deference into those few words. 
Really, it was a pity she hadn’t been born a man because the world had lost a first rate butler there. The butlers Jack had served under would have been put fairly to shame. 
“Tell him to bugger off.” Sarah knew perfectly well he didn’t take gentlemen as clients. He tried to keep any trace of impatience out of his voice, but didn’t think he quite managed it. 
“I have customers downstairs and I don’t want a scene.” She had pins jammed into the sleeve of her gown, a sign that she had been interrupted in the middle of a fitting. No wonder her lips were pursed. 
“And I don’t want any gentlemen.” Too late, he realized he had set her up for a smart-mouthed response. Now she was going to press her advantage because that’s what older sisters did. But Sarah must have been developing some restraint, or maybe she was only in a hurry, because all she did was raise a single eyebrow as if to say, like hell you don’t. 
“I’m not your gatekeeper,” she said a moment later, her tone deceptively mild. But on her last word Jack could hear a trace of that old accent they had both worked so hard to shed. Sarah had to be driven to distraction if she was letting her accent slip. 
“Send him up, then,” he conceded. This arrangement of theirs depended on a certain amount of compromise on both sides. 
She vanished, her shoes scarcely making any sound on the stairs. A moment later he heard the heavier tread of a man not at all concerned about disturbing the clients below. 
This man didn’t bother knocking. He simply sailed through the door Sarah had left ajar as if he had every right in the world to enter whatever place he pleased, at whatever time he wanted. 
To hell with that. Jack took his time stacking his cards, pausing a moment to examine one with feigned and hopefully infuriating interest. The gentleman coughed impatiently; Jack mentally awarded himself the first point. 
“Yes?” Jack looked up for the first time, as if only now noticing the stranger’s presence. He could see why Sarah had pegged him straight away as a gentleman. Everything about him, from his mahogany walking stick to his snowy white linen, proclaimed his status. 
“You’re Jack Turner?” 
There was something about his voice—the absurd level of polish, perhaps—that made Jack look more carefully at his visitor’s face. 
Could it—it couldn’t be. But it was.

Cat Sebastian lives in a swampy part of the South with her husband, three kids, and two dogs. Before her kids were born, she practiced law and taught high school and college writing. When she isn't reading or writing, she's doing crossword puzzles, bird watching, and wondering where she put her coffee cup.


Thursday, September 22, 2016

Spotlight: Love From Left Field (Knights of Passion #2) by Megan Ryder

Love From Left Field
Knights of Passion #2
Megan Ryder
September 13, 2016
Tule Publishing

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She wants to save the Knights…

When Miranda Callahan’s father, principle owner and hands-on dictator of the Georgia Knights, has a heart attack, the responsibility to make the team an independent success becomes solely hers. Though everyone expects her to fail in her new role, Miranda is determined to take her team to the top and earn her father's love and respect on the way. The only other obstacle is the League's consultant – a secret crush from her past – the man trying to take over the team, and the one person who can save them all.

He wants revenge…

Lucas Wainright is a turnaround consultant, hired by the League to save the Knights and so many other teams – only this time it’s personal; before being ousted by Seamus Callahan, Lucas' family had been the owners of the team. Now, he has the perfect opportunity to regain his rightful position with the Knights, if he’s willing to suppress his scruples and his attraction to Miranda Callahan.

Can Miranda and Lucas let go of old grudges and hold on to their new love?


"Really? So you think that I'll be here, ready to kiss you whenever you want?" 
The smile that crossed his face was one of pure male arrogance, confident in his own sex appeal. "Oh yeah. No obligation here." 
He stood and stalked around the desk. Too late she realized that she'd poked the tiger and he was deadly serious about his intentions. He swiveled her chair so she faced him, her chair bracketed between his knees. He braced his hands on the arms, trapping her neatly so she couldn't escape. Only she had no intention of trying to get away. That kiss had replayed in her mind several times in the few days since the event and she wanted to see if it was exhaustion that had made it so great, or something else. 
She tilted her head to the side and relaxed her body, allowing a small smile to spread across her lips. "So now you're going to prove it was a good kiss? Give it your best shot, lover boy. Let's see what you got." 
He leaned forward and gently brushed his lips across her, lightly, as if drawing a feather across her skin. She shivered and he chuckled, a low male sound deep in his throat. His lips skimmed her jaw line, brief, barely whispers of a touch, designed to tease, to taunt, to increase her desire. She moaned and went to reach for him.  
"Oh no. Stay still for this." He grabbed her hands with his, and placed them on the arms of the chair, imprisoning them with his own. 
He nudged her face up with his nose then rewarded her with a deep kiss, soul stirring yet innocent. After a moment, his tongue slid along the crease of her lips and she opened them, welcoming him in. The kiss quickly turned deeper, hotter, their tongues entwining and exploring. His mouth tasted of coffee and sweetness, like the butter-cream frosting of cake, and she couldn't get enough of it. 
Slowly, chest heaving with exertion, he pulled back, resting his forehead on hers while they both caught their breath. 
"Still think it was obligation?"







Ever since Megan Ryder discovered Jude Deveraux and Judith McNaught while sneaking around the “forbidden” romance section of the library one day after school, she has been voraciously devouring romance novels of all types. Now a romance author in her own right, Megan pens sexy contemporary novels all about family and hot lovin’ with the boy next door. She lives in Connecticut, spending her days as a technical writer and her spare time divided between her addiction to knitting and reading.


Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Review: Crushing on Love (The Bradens at Peaceful Harbor #4) by Melissa Foster

"Be mine, Butterfly." - Steve Johnson

Crushing on Love
Series: The Bradens at Peaceful Harbor #4
Author: Melissa Foster
Publisher: World Literary Press
Release Date: September 21, 2016
Source: Publisher for Review

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Steve Johnson is living his life’s passion watching over the Colorado Mountains as a ranger and wildlife consultant. But his peaceful life is upended when overzealous and insanely beautiful Shannon Braden flits back into his life after returning from a brief trip home to Maryland. He thought his attraction to her was under control—after all, she’s only in Colorado temporarily, and he doesn’t do casual affairs.

Shannon’s return to Colorado has as much to do with the game of cat and mouse she and Steve have been playing as it does the data she’s been hired to collect. But despite her efforts to explore the undeniable heat simmering between them, Steve’s intent on keeping his distance.

When a ranch abutting the national park goes up for sale, Steve will do whatever it takes to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. And when all his attempts fail, he’s left with no alternative but to follow Shannon’s guidance into the online world he abhors in order to raise the funds. The more time they spend together, the deeper their attraction becomes, and a game of cat and mouse turns into an unstoppable connection. But when Shannon’s assignment comes to an end, will it mean an end to them, too?


No matter how many Foster books I've read, I still get giddy when one of Melissa's books pops into my Kindle. And as usual, the temptation gets to me and I inevitably read it in one day. We all know how much I adore Melissa's writing and how much I flipping love her characters and Crushing on Love was no different. I'm sticking with my tradition of picking a word (or sometimes a phrase) that best describes my feelings towards the book in question. The word for Crushing on Love is...{insert dramatic pause}...organic. Not the word you were expecting? It's not a sexy description, I'll give you that, but it is a word that describes most, if not all, of Melissa's books. Melissa doesn't rely on over-the-top dramatics to put a monkey wrench in her character's relationships. Don't get me wrong, I love a good drama filled scene, but that's not something I look for in one of Melissa's romances. The budding relationship between most of her characters flows naturally. There may be times where a secret puts a kink in things, but you have faith that they'll work it out without blowing a lid. When there is an obstacle in the way, as such was the case with Steve and Shannon, her characters take it in stride. They didn't go off the deep end. Steve tried to compromise, but Shannon understood when it didn't pan out. I loved that it all felt organic rather than forced. They were able to laugh and cry with each other. They experienced firsts together and dared to experiment sexually. It was all in the natural progression of their love. And to me, that is what I truly adore with Melissa Foster. 

Now between you and me, next month's book is going to be really different. Funny I should mention experimenting in my review... *hint*



Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance, new adult romance, and women's fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Melissa's emotional journeys are lovingly erotic, perfect beach reads, and always family oriented.