June 2016

Book Tour: Broken Love By: Jillian Dodd


Cade & Palmer’s story is FINALLY here!




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After years of crushing and many failed seduction attempts, Palmer Montlake had finally scored the sexy Cade Crawford. Both a little drunk when they got back to her place, they were frantic with need, their desire intense.

But as the night progressed, the hot-mess hookup morphed to sweet lovemaking.

The kind neither had ever experienced.

But they were destined for heartbreak.

She was his best friend’s little sister.

He was her talent agent.

And they were dating in secret.

When they got into a wicked fight and broke up, all hell broke loose.

The kind neither have recovered from.

Six years later, they still hate each other.

But the universe seems to keep throwing them together.

When they catch the bouquet and garter at a mutual friend’s wedding, sparks fly between them — their chemistry undeniable.

Will they get a second chance? Or will they be left with a broken love?

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We clink our glasses together then down the shots. The groomsman passes me a lime wedge, but I shake my head, causing him to pull me aside.

“My name’s Jared,” he says with a cocky smirk.

“I thought this was supposed to be a no-names night?” I reply, giving him shit, even though I have no interest in him.

“It is. But for you, I’ll make an exception. You need to know what name to say when I make you scream later.”

Cade comes up from behind Jared, clamping his big hand down on Jared’s skinny shoulder.

Jared glances back at Cade. They share some kind of a look that causes Jared to immediately ditch me. He saunters over to Tory and throws his arm around her, which earns him a hint of a smile from Cade.

“So does this mean you’re not married?” Tory asks Jared.

“Nope, I’m single as a Pringle,” he replies.

I expect Cade to say something to me, but instead he turns away.

I’m not sure what just happened, but I think it was some guy-code thing.

And it pisses me off.

Tory sees the rage on my face, takes my hand, and drags me off to the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did you see that!?” I rant, as we step inside the ladies’ room, finding a long line. “Cade cock blocked me! Not that I wanted that guy’s cock, because you already called dibs on it, but Cade didn’t know that!”

“Since you don’t have a cock,” she replies. “I think it’s called blocking the box.”

“Oh, no,” the girl in front of us says. “It’s called twat blocking.”

“I thought it was boxed,” another woman says.

“Baseball players call cock blocking stealing signs.”

A voice from inside one of the stalls yells out, “It’s called clam jamming.”

Pretty soon everyone in the bathroom is giving us their opinions.

“Twat swatting or twat stopping.”

“Beaver dammed.”


I shake my head at Tory. “Whatever. It really shouldn’t matter what part you have. I got cock blocked because I will be having no cock tonight.”

“There’s still time,” Tory says. “You can have the groomsman. You need to get laid worse than I do, honey. It’s been far too long.”

“But why would he cock block me and then walk away?!”

As soon as the words tumble out of my mouth, Cade’s mother steps out of one of the stalls.

I put my head down, hoping she won’t notice me and, thankfully, she squeezes past us without saying a word.

“Holy buckets,” Tory says when the door closes behind her. “Wasn’t that his mother?”

“Uh, yeah. You can kill me now.”

Want to meet the other brother?

Vegas Love

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Author Information

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Jillian Dodd grew up on a farm in Nebraska, where she developed a love for Midwestern boys and Nebraska football. She has drank from a keg in a cornfield, attended the University of Nebraska, got to pass her candle, and did have a boy ask her to marry him in a bar. She met her own prince in college, and they have two amazing children, a Maltese named Sugar Bear, and two Labrador puppies named Camber Lacy and Cali Lucy. She is the author of the That Boy Trilogy and The Keatyn Chronicles Series.

Stalk Her: Website |Facebook | Twitter |Instagram | Goodreads

BROKEN LOVE is a STANDALONE, CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE NOVEL following Cade and Palmer from the USA Today Bestseller, Vegas Love.

The Love Series is a series of STANDALONE novels featuring a different Crawford sibling. They can be read by themselves. However if you do with to read them all, they are best enjoyed in order.

Review: Broken Love By: Jillian Dodd

Review: Broken Love By: Jillian Dodd

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This is such an adorable story! Lots of steam and angst and a story of love lost and recovered to be stronger than before. With Palmer and Cade nothing is as simple as it seems haha but their story is one of those that bring you right in! There is some family conflict involved in their backstory and it definitely plays a part in this story. See Palmer’s brother used to be best friends with Cade until Cade broke bro code and ended up falling in love with his best buds sister. . . (We all know that’s gonna create some tension!) And it lead up to one epic blow out at a bar. 

Fast forward six years and throw our two love birds into a situation straight from a rom-com  Cade’s brother is getting married and Palmer is on the guest list. Fate keeps throwing them together and you can feel the tension crackling between each of them. I love how Jillian puts those little details in each of the POV’s that clue the reader in that they are so connected they positively electrify the story. 

I love the comedic moments in this book, the scene in the bathroom at the wedding with Palmer and Tory haha it was one of my favorite comedic moments ever! It was just these women some who knew each other some who had never met before but it was this moment of bonding over a common ground. The writing here (and throughout the book in my opinion) really showcases Jillian’s talent in writing dialogue it just flows so well and its relatable. Its not one of those moments where the dialogue is so off to where it pulls you out of the story because you are constantly going “Do people really talk like that?” Or even better “do I talk like that, and come off like an idiot like this scene is going?” 

All in all I really enjoyed this book! This was only my second book by Jillian but now I’m hooked and needing more haha. Nothing like finding a new author that you absolutely love and binge reading their backlist. 

Review: Keeping London By: Ellie Wade

Review: Keeping London By: Ellie Wade 

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After the emotional rollercoaster ride that is Finding London we get the next piece of Loic and London’s story and let me tell you guys! This is the perfect compliment to that amazing book. Ellie’s writing style is amazing and this story really showcases it. 

The story picks up about 2 weeks give or take before Loic has to leave for Deployment overseas and their relationship has never been better. While he still suffers the nightmares London is able to help him through the worst of it though, they are about to take a trip to visit London’s sister Georgia and meet the rest of her family. The trip really displays their differences as far as upbringing and what each of them really enjoy doing. . . It sets up a interesting scene 😉 if you catch my drift. 

The drama gets ratcheted up a bit as the countdown gets closer and closer to when Loic has to leave and London’s entire experience on that day is spot on exactly to how I felt on a day long ago and one that a lot of my friends still have to face. Its intense and heartbreaking and we owe these soldiers and their families so much. With each moment that passes we get a look at what he is going through and what she is going through. I love seeing their emails back and forth! The question game is adorbs and I find myself eagerly anticipating the next one too haha. 

Not everything is happiness and sunshine all the way through (just like in life) so be warned toward the end of the book (really like the last quarter of it) things get rough (like you may want tissues rough) and at the end when all the cards are down on the table you WILL be freaking out. . . (Just know there is one more book! Phew that was my only saving grace to not have a complete nervous breakdown!) I love these characters so much and I cannot wait for the conclusion to this amazing series. 

LATE POST! Release Blitz! Rock The City By: Gia Riley


Cover Design: Sommer Stein / Perfect Pear Creative Covers

Release Date: June 23, 2016




Ten years ago, Lane Lewis said goodbye to the only home he’s ever known.


Now that Midnight Fate’s tour has ended, he’s more determined than ever to find a balance between music and life. But sometimes reality’s a joke, fate’s a lie, and history’s meant to repeat itself.


Ten years ago he shed the pain, but now it’s seeking revenge.


Noelle Nash is a hopeless romantic with a dirty mouth. After almost giving up on love, she’s been lured away from her safety net to try one more time with Lane.


She’s willing to do whatever it takes to hold onto the man she loves, but her fierce protectiveness even takes her by surprise.


Can she learn to accept the truth? Or will she let her fears consume her, leaving her with no choice but to walk away?


Six months ago their future began. Today, it’s about to get rocked.









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Mystery pair TC LuLaRoe Leggings & $25 Amazon Gift Card

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About the Author

Gia Riley is a New Adult and Contemporary Romance author from the small but mighty state of Delaware. She’s a lover of all things romance – a firm believer that everyone deserves a happily ever after. She loves strawberry smoothies almost as much as she loves reality TV. When she’s not writing, you can find her roaming the aisles of Kirkland’s, up to her elbows in Play-doh, or trying to hunt down spoilers for Big Brother. Her newest addiction is a Starbucks iced mocha – they keep her up late, doing terrible things to her characters.



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Review: Rock The City By: Gia Riley

Review: Rock The City By: Gia Riley

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I have read a few of Gia’s books (understatment of the year!) Haha and I have to say this one is one of my favorites! Its fresh and intense right from the start. Yes, it seems like some instalove and I know that bothers some people but all I have to say is that sometimes lightning strikes when you meet that one person and it feels like the stars align and time speeds up but stops all at the same time. And experiencing that from Lane and Noelle’s perspective is one of the strengths of Gia’s writing style. 

I’m not typically a huge fan of the music business kind of stories but I knew I was in safe hands with this author so I was down for taking a journey with these characters. It was a lot more intense than I thought it was gonna be from the outset the story just grabs a hold and keeps you hooked from beginning to end. You get some comedic moments like the one between Noelle and her bestie Lark in the very first chapter and it was so something me and my best friend would say to each other that I definitely gigglesnorted a couple times. 

This story is one you continue to think about long after you finish it. Its one of those that have unforgettable characters and storylines like much of Gia’s work but this one seems to go above and beyond. I would love to know more about what happens next for these characters. Definitely another 5 star read from a author I trust to give me a excellent read. 

Excerpt Reveal! Filthy English By: Ilsa Madden-Mills


Chapter 1
Plain and simple, this night sucked.
Sadly, it was my honeymoon.
I sighed heavily and gazed around Masquerade, an intimately lit London nightclub where everyone wore black domino masks, some elaborate and some plain, to hide their identity. A few die-hards even sported dark clothing with long, loose cloaks. Not me though. I’d gone modern with a slinky little number and three-inch heels, putting my height at nearly six feet. Yep, I’m the giant in the blue dress, towering over every girl and some guys at the bar.
My top teeth dug into my bottom lip as I gazed around the smoky club, my eyes bouncing off random faces. Even in a room full of party people, music, and strobe lights, I was lonely.
My groom was missing.
That’s right. Hartford Wilcox, Jr., aka Mr. Nice Guy at Whitman University in North Carolina, had jilted me two weeks before the big wedding day as we had dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant, Mario’s.
And now here I was—on my honeymoon and getting trashed with my best friend Lulu who’d decided to skip her beach vacation and come with me at the last minute.
She poked me with her finger as we sat in front of the heavy wooden bar of the club. “Hey, Earth to Remi, get that glazed look out of your eyes and order a drink already. I’m thirsty.” She fluffed her pixie-cut pink hair and straightened her black tutu, eyes scoping out the club. “Dang, the men in here are hotter than a billy goat with a blow torch,” she said in her honeyed southern drawl.
I half-heartedly agreed, not really caring, more intent on scanning the bottles behind the bar. “I want tequila,” I murmured. “A whole bottle.”
Her face snapped back to me and her green eyes widened. “Uh-uh. No way. I know what happens when you drink that crap. You either eat a ton of tacos and puke, or you wrap yourself around some cocky bastard with a well-developed tush.”
True. I did love a tight muscular ass.
But I wouldn’t get one tonight.
A short laugh burst out of me, one of those I’m-miserable-but-pretending-to- be-okay-laughs that I’d been doing a lot of lately. For the past two weeks, I’d vacillated between a sobbing mess and an angry woman who became so incensed that “fuck” was the only word that seemed appropriate in any given situation. Going to the post office to mail he dumped me, but thank you anyway cards. Fuck. Going to the wedding venue and not getting the ten thousand dollar deposit back. Fuck. Realizing I was homeless fall semester—which was in two weeks—fuck. Listening to my mother tell me it was my fault. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The bartender delivered my bottle and poured me a shot. I sucked the tequila down while Lulu watched me warily. It tasted like bad decisions and gasoline, but tonight was about forgetting. The sooner the better.
A few minutes later, Lulu went out to dance with a British guy she’d been making eyes at. I sat glumly at the bar, fiddling with my diamond tennis bracelet, rubbing it like rosary beads. I needed to forget Hartford, and according to Lulu, that meant hooking up with someone.
Was she right?
Fate answered in the form of a beautiful man—and by beautiful I mean drop-dead sexy with a backside so delectable and muscular my mouth plopped open.
I snapped my lips shut and adjusted my velvet half-mask—the annoying feathery plumes on the sides kept sticking to my red lipstick—and turned ever so slightly to check him out, not wanting to appear obvious. He slid into the seat next to me, tall and broad with rippling shoulders and a massive frame.
I checked my appearance in a mirror behind the bar, mentally analyzing the odds of a girl like me snagging a hottie like him.
Although no one had ever called me beautiful, I did have two—okay, maybe three—things going for me in the looks department. My shiny, golden-brown hair that hung down in waves to my shoulders, my fluffy “pillow lips” as Lulu described them, and lastly, I had an itsy bitsy space between my two front teeth which were otherwise white and perfect. Lulu claimed the gap lent me an exotic look, like Madonna or Sookie Stackhouse. Whatever. I was a True Blood fan. I went with it.
He shifted on the stool, leaning closer to me. His cologne swirled in the air, the smell of expensive Scotch and musk mingling together to create a heady, slightly dangerous scent. I paused, goosebumps rising on my bare arms. The spicy whiff triggered a distant memory just out of reach.
As slyly as I could, I studied his profile from top to bottom. Like me he wore a black mask, although his was more masculine, not hiding his chiseled, movie star jawline. His lips were carnal and luscious, the bottom more plump than the top with a slight indentation in the middle. As I watched, his tongue swept out and caressed it, his top teeth biting it as if he were deep in thought. He raked a hand through his dark, longish messy hair, held it suspended above his head for a few seconds and then released it, letting it swish back into its tousled yet perfect place.
I tore my eyes away.
Something about him sent loud warning bells ringing in every atom of my body.
Danger, danger. Don’t touch that.
But my gaze would not be denied as I took in the tight black shirt and sculpted chest that was obviously used to the inside of a gym, right down to an arm that looked like it could snap a board in half—or me.
Nice biceps, Mr. Beautiful.
The pièce de résistance  was the vivid blue and orange dragonfly tattoo displayed on his left arm. It was larger than my hand and took up most of his bicep. My eyes traced the contours of the design from the papery wings to the multi-faceted eyes. A bold black color outlined the insect, giving it a masculine feel.
True Religion jeans stretched down long legs and ended in a pair of black Converse without socks, giving him a boyish quality that was in direct contrast to the crazy-sexy-bad-boy vibe he had going on.
Him tonight?
Maybe. He was the polar opposite of Hartford who was blond, lean, and tattoo-free.
I nibbled on my fingernail. How do I get him to notice little ol’ me?
Just then a redhead with fluffy Farrah Fawcett hair strode up to his stool, bold as brass, wearing a tight, white mini-skirt that barely covered her booty. She brought with her the smell of sweet, cloying perfume, the kind I always got spritzed with at the mall.
She flicked her hair over her shoulder, casually rubbed her finger down his arm and struck up a conversation. Her fake, black lashes—which she’d somehow managed to get outside the eyeholes of her mask—batted. She puffed out her well-developed chest.
He smiled back at her with a wicked grin, his relaxed body language telling me he was confident when it came to women. She whispered in his ear, boobs right in his face, but whatever he said back wasn’t what she wanted to hear because a few ticks later, she crossed her arms, glared at me, and stalked away.
I blinked.  What had I done?
Then he turned and pointed his devastating smile at me .
Shit, he’d made eye contact—as much as you could with a claustrophobic mask on.
But wait…
Was he crazy?
Because if he’d turned down her
flirtation, I didn’t have a shot.
I didn’t know how to do the fingers-tip-toeing-up-his-arm-thing and sexy hair flicking. I didn’t know a thing about applying fake eyelashes. I didn’t know how to make my breasts sit up that high. I looked away from him and took another shot, feeling anxious and strangely off-kilter.
Mr. Beautiful ordered a drink from the bartender, his British accent smooth as silk as it washed over me. I froze. I
almost knew that voice—deep with soft rounded vowels that made you tingle in your lady parts.
What was it about this guy that had me all jacked up and hot for him?
Hello, tequila,  my inner voice said .  But it was more than that.
Getting brave, I pivoted on my barstool, and found Mr. Beautiful’s eyes on me once more, searching my face. As if he too recognized the pull between us.
My heart played hopscotch, jumping against my chest. My skin prickled. I shivered.
Did I know him?
It clicked.
Dax Blay?
It was his voice, the same deep quality, the kind of voice that made you want to hop into his bed and ride him like a cowgirl.
My breath hitched, and I swallowed down the emotion that zipped up my spine whenever I thought of him. He was my one mistake, the time I’d tossed inhibitions and carefully laid plans aside and went with my instincts, only to have them tossed back in my face.
But the man next to me wasn’t  Dax. Thank God.
Last spring at the campus-wide end of the year fraternity party with Hartford, I’d seen Dax, and he’d had shorter hair, like always, and zero tattoos. Yeah. No way.
Plus, last I heard, he was in Raleigh where his father lived.
Dax was British. He could have family here. Maybe he got a tattoo?
Nah. I mean, what were the odds of us both being at the same club on the same night in a country where neither of us lived?
I tore my eyes off Mr. Beautiful and waved at a bartender for more limes, but somehow my tennis bracelet snagged on the bodice of my dress, leaving my wrist dangling like a wet dishrag in a most inappropriate place.
I wiggled my arm.
Jiggled it.
Even went so far as to jerk, but it wouldn’t separate.
Sweat popped out on my forehead. Holding my breath, I twisted and tugged the bracelet, forcing the delicate material in my bodice to stretch beyond normal limits.
“Well, hell,” I breathed, pausing to assess.
Skin-tight with a plunging neckline, the dress was mostly a stretchy fabric held together by sequined straps and a zipper on the side. Slated as part of my honeymoon wardrobe, it was a Tory Burch and had cost four hundred dollars, the most I’d ever paid for a fun outfit, and no way did I want to damage it. I might have to return it to rent an apartment at Whitman.
Lulu. I needed Lulu. She was a whiz with wardrobe malfunctions.
I spun around on the barstool and used my free hand to wave at her, but she was slinging herself around dancing, having a great time and completely oblivious. I resorted to flapping both hands at her, one high and one low. Several people waved back with baffled expressions, but Lulu didn’t notice. Dammit.
I groaned and slumped down in my seat, ready to scream. Now what? Go to the bathroom and repair it there? Good plan.
But the club tilted when I stood, the strobe lights making me squint as they flashed in my face. I wobbled in my leopard print heels—that Lulu had insisted I wear—and grabbed the stool to keep my balance. `
I sucked in a breath to gather myself, but I couldn’t think straight. The room spun, and I was suddenly queasy, and why did I slam all that tequila, and oh my god, my wrist is currently attached to my tit like a T. rex arm.
I had to get out of here before someone noticed what an idiot I was.
Trying to be stealth like, I reached across the bar to get my beaded clutch, but because it was my left hand and not my right that I used most of the time, I got off balance and stumbled—and my ankle folded in on itself. I yelped as my shoe catapulted off my foot and vaulted off toward the dance floor, while I fell forward, straight into Mr. Beautiful’s lap.
Filthy English (unedited excerpt)
Copyright Ilsa Madden-Mills


The British are HERE!
Are you ready for Filthy English?
Add to your TBR for a July 11th release here:
A smokin’ hot British player…
A jilted girl…
One night of mistaken identity…
Two weeks before her wedding, Remi Montague’s fiancé drops her faster than a drunken sorority girl in stilettos. Armed with her best friend and a bottle of tequila, she hops a plane to London to drown her sorrows before fall semester begins at Whitman University.
She didn’t plan on attending a masquerade party.
She sure didn’t plan on waking up next to the British bad boy who broke her heart three years ago—the devastatingly handsome and naked  Dax Blay. Furthermore, she has no clue how they acquired matching tattoos.
Once back at Whitman together, they endeavor to pretend they never had their night of unbridled passion in London.
But that’s damn hard to do when you live in the same house…
One night. Two damaged hearts. The passion of a lifetime.
*A modern love story inspired by Romeo and Juliet*

About the Author
New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.
She’s addicted to all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding heroes in books. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Instagram, Ian Somerhalder (seriously hot), astronomy (she’s a Gemini), Sephora make-up, and tattoos.
She has a degree in English and a Master’s in Education.
When she’s not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets, paints old furniture, and eats her weight in sushi.

You can stalk her on her website as well as get signed books:
Twitter: @ilsamaddenmills
Ilsa Madden-Mills’ other books:



Book Tour! To See You By: Rachel Blaufeld


To See You by Rachel Blaufeld is NOW LIVE!

New Emotional Standalone

No cliffhanger, only hard-earned unexpected love. And angst.

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No cliffhanger, only hard-earned unexpected love.

And angst.

What is it about this guy?

On paper, he’s one hundred percent wrong for me. His e-mails are equal parts annoying and funny.

Okay, more funny than annoying. More like refreshing. Different. Exciting.

But as I stand next to him now, he’s giving me head-to-toe tingles, and I find myself dwelling on his e-mails.

Meet smart, sexy career girl and New York snob, Charli Richards. She has everything except happiness until the day she meets Layton Griffin. It’s a random encounter on an airplane; it couldn’t mean anything, right?

Layton isn’t even remotely close to who Charli sees herself hooking up with . . . ever. Her mom and best friend agree he’s not for her, but he makes her feel something exciting, awakens her world.

But then Layton changes, going to great lengths for Charli to see him for who he really is.

Will those changes bring them closer together, or will she never be able to see him in the same way again?



“Cheers.” My seatmate good-naturedly tipped his glass toward me. He wasn’t going to leave me alone.

I took a long gulp and looked back at my computer screen.

“Do you like working for them?”

I tugged at my turtleneck; it was so freaking hot all of a sudden. My nosy neighbor’s face had a slight sheen to it, clearly from being hot, and now his warmth was seeping into my space.

“I do. They’re a growing company and . . . I’ve made great strides there.”

What the heck? Why was I even answering him? Because he asked, and if I was honest, it was the nicest anyone had been to me in months.

Furthermore, why did I sound like I was on an interview? Or an infomercial?

He was kind—I could tell—and his smile was gentle and calm, his eyes like warm coffee with just the right amount of cream swirling through it. I turned a little in my seat to face him and my knee brushed his thigh. I let my gaze travel his Beastie Boys T-shirt until I settled on his computer.

Playing on it was a rom-com, one I’d never seen before, but Katie What’s-her-name—all stunning, shiny hair, celebrity mom, perfect life—was front and center. Her arms were full of shopping bags and she was wearing a big grin on her perfect face as she walked down a city street.

“You don’t strike me as the romantic comedy type.” I felt my eyebrow lift. I wasn’t sure if I was teasing him or myself as the question floated from my mouth.

He laughed. It was soothing and comforting like a coffee-and-Kahlua on a cold night, and warm like the sun on the first few days of summer.

I allowed my eyes to close and imagined he looked like somebody else—not someone else totally, but just different. Fit, not slender but muscular. He still had the same gracious smile and inviting eyes, but he wasn’t wearing a music T-shirt in my imagination. Maybe a Henley? And dark-wash jeans instead of the regular everyday ragged blue I’d noticed him wearing.

“It’s work too,” he said, interrupting my fantasy.

“Oh.” I chugged the balance of my mimosa, cooling the wash of desire recently conjured up from my brain.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure BubblePOP will end up reviewing this one, will probably have someone at the premiere too. That’s why I asked about the site. Six degrees of Kevin Bacon and all that. Our worlds are connected.”

“I don’t do movies. I’m the fitness editor, but if Katie What’s-her-name is in it, I’m sure we’ll be all over it.”

He shifted his gaze over fully to me now. His eyes weren’t exclusively deep brown; tiny flecks of amber circled his pupil. They were captivating in a weird way, as if they didn’t belong with this guy.

I’d never met a slob who was so interesting before, yet he was definitely intriguing. And not really a slob—that was my own bias. Clearly, I was having some sort of psychotic breakdown on this airplane.

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Meet Rachel

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Rachel Blaufeld is a social worker/entrepreneur/blogger turned author. Fearless about sharing her opinion, Rachel captured the ear of stay-at-home and working moms on her blog,BacknGrooveMom, chronicling her adventures in parenting tweens and inventing a product, often at the same time. She has also blogged for The Huffington Post, Modern Mom, and StartupNation.

Turning her focus on her sometimes wild-and-crazy creative side, it only took Rachel two decades to do exactly what she wanted to do—write a fiction novel. Now she spends way too many hours in local coffee shops plotting her ideas. Her tales may all come with a side of angst and naughtiness, but end lusciously.

Rachel lives around the corner from her childhood home in Pennsylvania with her family and two dogs. Her obsessions include running, coffee, icing-filled doughnuts, anti-heroes, and mighty fine epilogues.

Stalk Rachel at:  website / Twitter / Facebook

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Review: To See You By: Rachel Blaufeld

Review: To See You By: Rachel Blaufeld 

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I fell in love with Rachel’s writing style when I picked up Dolce a few months ago. . . The unique characters and storylines are just one of the many reasons I eagerly anticipate each new release from Rachel. In To See You we get another unforgettable page turner! 

We may have seen this setup before . . . Strangers meet on an airplane and so begins an epic love story. . . Right? Heard it a hundred times but here is where Rachel flips the switch and gives us these amazingly real and relatable characters and their story definitely has some bumps in the road and moments of indecision (should I? Shouldn’t I? . . . What does this mean?) And it made me stop and go “hey I have had these same feelings” Charli and Layton are these forces of nature he’s so laid back and she is so driven and has everything planned out they make for the perfect yin and yang. 

Their road to romance is definitely filled with some OMG moments! And with some hilarious moments as well. Janie (Charli’s best friend) reminds me of a Samantha from Sex and The City kind of character hilarious and so comfortable in her own skin that you are either gonna love her or hate her right off the bat. All of this comes together in the ending with an adorable moment making this one of my favorite reads of the year. 

Excerpt Reveal! Broken Love By: Jillian Dodd




The charter I use suggests changing our flight plan to land in Reno as opposed to the small Truckee airport I previously requested, due to high winds. We make the switch, take the flight, and I rent an SUV at the airport there.

I know the area is expecting some flurries today, but by the time I cross into Truckee, the snow is coming down hard and heavy. It’s getting dark, the roads are slippery, and I find myself slowing down and taking each turn very carefully.

As I round a corner, I spot a car that has slid off the road. A gorgeous woman is standing outside the car with a phone to her ear, her collar turned up, shivering against the cold.



Even though she tried to called me late Halloween night, I haven’t called her back. I wasn’t sure what to say, and I didn’t want to hear whatever dumb excuse she had for not showing up. My plan was to come up here and figure out what to do regarding her.

Part of me wishes I could drive right by and pretend I don’t see her.

But, I can’t.

When I saw the woman on the side of the road, my heart skipped a beat, recognizing her before I realized it was Palmer.

I put my flashers on, pull over, and roll down the passenger-side window. “Hey!”

“Cade, is that you?” she asks, her eyes wide with astonishment.

“Yeah, you need a lift?”

She glances at her car, then at me, like she’s trying to decide which may be the lesser evil.

After a few seconds, she nods her head. “Yes, thank you. That would be great. The tow truck can’t be here for at least an hour. I guess it’s worse just west of here.”

“You know, you shouldn’t be out on roads like this all alone,” I say, chewing her out a little. “You should have put on chains.”

“I thought I could make it,” she replies, causing my mind to tumble back in time.

“I thought I could make it,” she says. She’s wearing a sundress, and the tip of her nose and her shoulders are a little pink from our day spent on the shores of Lake Tahoe. She’s just fifteen, and I’ll be turning twenty-one in a few days. She’s going home with her family tomorrow, and then all our college buddies are coming up for a weekend party. To celebrate my finally being drinking-age legal.

What’s not legal is the girl standing in front of me. But you’d never know it from looking at her. Palmer Montlake has been modeling. Already tall with the perfect body for hanging clothes from, she’s just back from a European modeling trip.

And, boy, has she ever grown up. In more ways than one. Most importantly, is the fact that I’m sure she’s flirting with me.

I know I need to make her stop.

But I’m a little drunk, and she’s way too pretty for her own good. Not to mention the fact that she was running around in a skimpy bikini all day long. But having her cover up doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about how she looked.

I chastise myself.

She’s just a kid. She’s fifteen. Not only that, she’s my best friend’s kid sister—the holy grail of what you don’t mess with.

She runs her hand down my arm, laughs, and says, “Will you put a Band-Aid on it for me?”

When she was trying to jump from the boat to the dock like her brother and I did, she caught her flip-flop on the edge and crashed—cutting her knee.

“It’s not that bad,” I hesitate, knowing that under no circumstances can I can allow myself to touch her. I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to stop.

“Come on, Cade,” she pouts, puffing out her sexy bottom lip. “I’ve helped you before. Remember a couple years ago when you were bleeding after sliding into home plate? I fixed you all up.”

I remember it, alright. But she didn’t look like this back then. She was gawky and awkward like a gelding, not the gorgeous gazelle she is today.

She jumps up onto the kitchen counter, immediately causing my mind to think about what naughty things I’d do to her on this counter if she were as old as she looks.

I take a deep breath, calm myself down, and put the Band-Aid gently across her knee.

She kisses me on the cheek in return. What should be a quick thank-you peck is long and drawn out, and her scent lingers on me.

“Thank you, Cade,” she says, my name sounding like warm butter melting off her lips.

“The snow is coming down fast,” she says, bringing me back to the present.

“There’s no way we can make it to your cabin,” I say. “I assume that’s where you’re going?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“Are you supposed to meet anyone there?” I inquire. Please say no.

“No. I have some scripts to read, and Pike kind of wanted some time to himself.”

“My place is closer,” I say, thanking whatever divine intervention allowed her to go off the road. “You can stay there until the roads get better.”

“Okay,” she says with a shy smile. “Thanks for rescuing me, Cade.”

“You’re welcome, Palmer.”

She gets in the car and shakes the snow out of her hair. “I’m sorry about the other night. Why didn’t you call me back?”

“I don’t know. I just—”

“You were pissed I didn’t show up, right?”

“A little.”

“I sort of explained what happened in the text. Did you read it?”

“I did. Look, you know your brother hates me. He’s staying at your house. It would be awkward, so I decided not to put you in that position.”

“I see,” she says, putting her head down.

Which makes me feel bad.

We drive in silence for a few miles then she says, “Can you even believe how gorgeous this snow is? Don’t you just want to lay in it and make a bunch of snow angels?”

I grip my wheel tighter as the car fishtails on a patch of ice. “Let’s hope we make it there first.”

“Where are we going?” she asks. “I didn’t know you had a place up here.”

“I’ve been looking for the right place for a quite a while. Just closed a few weeks ago.”

“Is it furnished? Are we going to have any food?”

“I have some basic furnishings and linens. Not much yet. I wanted to get a feel for the place before I order any more. And groceries were delivered earlier today.” I turn and give her a wink. “Along with a few cases of wine.”

“So we can get drunk, and we won’t starve. Sounds like the perfect weekend.”

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, excited about how she mentioned the weekend. Does she want to spend the weekend with me?

Could I get so lucky?

I look over at her. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold, but her eyes are bright with excitement about the falling snow. She’s bouncing in the seat a little, like she’s excited about something.

Probably just glad not to be standing on the side of the road anymore.

After winding up the mountain into the ski resort area of Truckee, I pull into the driveway of my new home.

“Cade! It’s so pretty!” Palmer screeches. “You literally bought the house of my dreams. Don’t you remember that time when I told you about it? That night when we laid under the stars in that hammock in Belize?”

I remember, alright. I remember everything about that trip. How soft her skin felt, the way her ass looked in a skimpy little bikini, the way she fit perfectly into my arms, and how amazing it felt when I was inside of her.

“We were happy then,” I say flatly, the memory both blissful and painful as I open the door and pull into the garage, knowing that’s why this house took years to find. When she passionately described it to me, it became my dream, too.

She jumps out of the car quickly, her face flush with excitement.

“Leave the bags, Cade. Give me a tour.”

Give me a tour. If I had my way, a tour would involve christening each room by making love in it.

Love. Not sex. That’s how it always was with Palmer. Even when the sex was completely dirty in nature, it always felt different.

I shake my head, take her outstretched hand, and follow her into the house.

After giving her the tour of the place, I unload our luggage, putting hers in one of the guest bedrooms and praying she’ll lock herself in and read her scripts, so I won’t have to keep looking at her.

Because if I have to keep looking at her, I’m going to end up fucking her.

My mother says love is based on strong emotions and that strong emotions polarize us. That’s why I can both love Palmer and hate her at the same time.

And right now, I hate that I still love her.

She’s standing next to one of the big picture windows, looking outside.

“The snow is really coming down now,” she says. “This is crazy beautiful.”

“You’re crazy beautiful,” I mutter.


“I said you’re crazy beautiful, Palmer.” I say it flatly, with no emotion. I’m afraid to say it any other way.

She blushes and self-consciously pushes back a strand of hair. I love that about her. How she isn’t even aware of how truly stunning she is.

“I think we need some of that wine,” she says.

“Wine won’t help things between us.”

“No, it will probably make me want to sleep with you,” she says with a sigh. Like she thinks it’s a really bad idea. She walks over to the cabinet under the television and starts rummaging through it. “Do you have any cards?” She laughs, pulling out a big box. “I should have known you’d have Scrabble.”

“It is a Crawford family tradition.”

“Not our kind of Scrabble.”

“You’re right. I don’t play dirty Scrabble with Mom and Dad. I’ve never played it with anyone but you, actually.”

“So,” she says, giving me a sexy grin, “shall we?”

I look out at the snow still falling heavily. “Sure, why not. You’re not going anywhere for a while. I thought you had a script to read or something?”

“Scrabble sounds more titillating.”

“I’ll be impressed if you can get that word on the board. Why don’t you set up the game and open some wine. I’ll go get some wood and get a fire going.”

Although the wood I had delivered is stacked neatly next to the house, I wish it wasn’t. Staying outside in the bristling cold wind for a few hours chopping wood might be the only thing that could keep me from kissing Palmer.

Hell, who am I kidding? I’d do way more than kiss her. Visions of carrying her to my new four-poster bed cause me to immediately harden. I slam my hand against the wall. Stop thinking about that. You can’t.

Why not? a voice inside my head wonders.

She hates you, for one. Only it doesn’t really seem like she hates me anymore. Not like before when she wouldn’t even talk to me.

I put the wood in a carrier, take it in the house, and get a roaring fire going.

“The fire is so pretty,” she says from the kitchen.

“Thanks,” I reply.

“I have an idea,” she says, sashaying her way toward me with a big smile on her face. Palmer’s smile makes my knees weak. And I know that makes me sound like a fucking girl, but whatever, it’s true.

“What’s that?”

“Pick the coffee table up for me,” she instructs. I pick it up while she pulls the grey shag rug out from under it and moves it right up to the fireplace. “Perfect!” she exclaims, then strips all the pillows off the couch, tossing them to the ground. She carefully places the Scrabble game on the center of the rug, bending over and giving me a great view of her incredible ass. Seriously, it’s the perfect shape. If I could just strip her naked, get behind her, and grab those hips, we’d have a lot more fun than playing a stupid board game.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she says, scooting the big wooden coffee table toward the rug then grabbing a tray from the kitchen and setting it down. “Cheese, crackers, smoked salmon, caviar, and caramel popcorn.”

“That’s quite the combination,” I tease.

“I had to work with what you had. At least there’s plenty of wine. Will you grab it?” she asks as she sits her ass on my rug and doles out little square letters.

I set the bottle and the glasses on the coffee table, pour the wine, and sit down across from her.

The lights flicker, then go out, enveloping the house in darkness.

She nervously twists her hair. It’s an old habit, something she’s done since she was a kid. I remember so clearly her lying in bed after the first time we made love, twisting her hair and wondering out loud if our sleeping together was the right thing to do.

I didn’t want her to second guess us then, and I don’t want her to now.

I reach out and take her hand, just like I did then. “We’ll figure something out,” I say, repeating the words I told her that night. Her eyes flicker with surprise at my touch, but then she softens.

“You’ve always known how to make me feel better,” she says, gazing into my eyes and expressing more feelings than the words that came out of her mouth.

When she finally breaks eye contact, she smiles. “I don’t think the lights are coming back on. I saw candles in the pantry.”

“I’ll grab them,” I say, quickly getting up. I have to fucking do something besides stare into her eyes, or I’m going to—no. Get that out of your mind. It’s not going to happen. It can’t happen. Her brother hates you. You can’t do that to her.

Using my phone to light the way, I get candles and matches along with a couple flashlights.

“Here, let me help you,” she says, getting up and attempting to grab a couple candles from my full arms. But when her hands brush my chest, I stop and stiffen—everywhere.

“Um, that’s okay, I’ve got them,” I say, attempting to unload the candles onto the table only to have half of them topple to the ground. “Shit.”

“It’s okay, Cade,” she says, dropping to her knees in front of me—her head now at dick-sucking level.

Fuck my life.

Why did I stop to pick her up again?



Cade & Palmer’s story will be here on June 21st!

Pre-order Broken Love NOW for ONLY 99¢.

(Price will change on release day)


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After years of crushing and many failed seduction attempts, Palmer Montlake had finally scored the sexy Cade Crawford. Both a little drunk when they got back to her place, they were frantic with need, their desire intense.

But as the night progressed, the hot-mess hookup morphed to sweet lovemaking.

The kind neither had ever experienced.

But they were destined for heartbreak.

She was his best friend’s little sister.

He was her talent agent.

And they were dating in secret.

When they got into a wicked fight and broke up, all hell broke loose.

The kind neither have recovered from.

Six years later, they still hate each other.

But the universe seems to keep throwing them together.

When they catch the bouquet and garter at a mutual friend’s wedding, sparks fly between them — their chemistry undeniable.

Will they get a second chance? Or will they be left with a broken love?

BROKEN LOVE is a STANDALONE, CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE NOVEL following Cade and Palmer from the USA Today Bestseller, Vegas Love.

The Love Series is a series of STANDALONE novels featuring a different Crawford sibling. They can be read by themselves. However if you do with to read them all, they are best enjoyed in order.

Author Information

Jillian Dodd grew up on a farm in Nebraska, where she developed a love for Midwestern boys and Nebraska football. She has drank from a keg in a cornfield, attended the University of Nebraska, got to pass her candle, and did have a boy ask her to marry him in a bar. She met her own prince in college, and they have two amazing children, a Maltese named Sugar Bear, and two Labrador puppies named Camber Lacy and Cali Lucy. She is the author of the That Boy Trilogy and The Keatyn Chronicles Series.

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