Don't you hate it when a book just totally tanks your ability to adult? I am having this constant dilemma of what to read next every time i put a book down. So today I decided rather than spend another 2 days trying to find a book to read i would read the oldest book on my current series shelf and that turned out to be one tiny lie.

I didn't read the blurb, I had no idea why i didn't read it five freaking years ago since I do know I enjoyed the first one. So I started reading and realised it was a love triangle and I have avoided them like the plague for ages. Well obviously for about five years.

But the writing was so good and I kinda liked Livie, even when I didn't. I got what motivated her and I felt a little broken for her. We all have things we know we shouldn't want. And it's even harder when there's no real valid reason not to choose the thing we think is right for us over that thing we actually want.

I did find it hard to get over the fact that she acted like such a selfish bitch when she knew her actions weren't just affecting herself. But then it's easy to rationalize things when you are living it, especially when your 18. And don't even get me started on Ash. I loved him as much as I hated him. He did my head in.

What is it about closed off brooding broken men that just works for me in books? But then here i am at 1am wide awake freaking out that the kids will be up in 5 hours being all needy and demanding while I am rocking a severe book hangover and trying to decide what I am going to read next.

So yeah I am glad I didn't read the blurb. I am glad I made myself read a book I remember having to wait for before I decided to read it later. Because this book has had my complete attention since I picked it up and i loved it, even when i knew i shouldn't. 


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Motion, the first in the all-new Laws of Physics Trilogy from Wall Street Journal and New York Times bestselling author Penny Reid, is available now! 

LOP_MOTION

One week.
Home alone.
Girl genius.
Unrepentant slacker.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Mona is a smart girl and had everything figured out a long time ago. She had to. She didn’t have a choice. When your parents are uber-celebrities and you graduate from high school at thirteen, finish college at seventeen, and start your PhD program at eighteen, you don’t have time for distractions outside of your foci. Even fun is scheduled.
Which is why Abram, her brother’s best friend, is such an irritant.
Abram is a talented guy, a supremely gifted musician, and has absolutely nothing figured out, nor does he seem to care. He does what he feels, when he feels, and—in Mona’s opinion—he makes her feel entirely too much. 

Laws of Physics is the second trilogy in the Hypothesis series; Laws of Physics parts 1 (MOTION) & 2 (SPACE) end with a cliffhanger.


My Review
http://www.readersretreats.com/2019/02/motion-laws-of-physics-1-by-penny-reid.html



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Excerpt:
My stomach rumbled, long and loud, and I pressed my hand against it. Grunting into the darkness, I tossed off the covers and stood from Lisa’s bed. Food on my mind, I slipped out of the room and down the stairs. The kitchen was dark, but instead of flipping on a light—which might’ve alerted Abram as to my whereabouts . . . which he probably didn’t care about so long as “Lisa wasn’t doing anything crazy”—I crept on quiet feet to the fridge and opened it.

Momentarily dazzled by the bright light within, it took several seconds of squinting and blinking before the scant contents became visible. I frowned. In addition to the pizza box, two suspicious-looking containers of Chinese takeout, and various condiments, I found: shredded cheddar/jack cheese blend, a zucchini, a half a pint of mushrooms, and hot salsa. Opening the hot salsa, I smelled it, and then I dipped my pinkie inside and tasted it while examining the lid. It looked, smelled, and tasted fine.

Placing my finds on the island counter, I shut the fridge. The sudden extinguishing of the bright light meant that the kitchen was now pitch black. Shrugging off my lack of sight, I extended my arms and blindly felt my way over to the pantry until my hands connected with the torso of a person.

A person.

A PERSON!

I jumped back on instinct, my leg hitting one of the stools at the island counter and sending it crashing to the ground. My heart in my throat, I screamed, turned, and darted forward, but my feet tangled with the felled stool and I pitched, bracing myself for a gravitational collision with unseen wooden bars and a granite stool top.

But then strong arms caught me, deftly spinning and lifting me into the air. Cold dread rushed through my body, tensing every muscle. I couldn’t think. I didn’t think. Instinctively, my legs and fists pumped, fighting against my captor. Rocks in my throat as I readied another scream, a hand covered my mouth just as I belted it out.

“Whoa! Calm down. It’s me.” Abram’s voice at my ear soothed, his bulky arm a tight band around my torso, my back to his front, my feet not touching the ground. “Calm down. Shhh. Calm down.”

Hot breath teased my hair and neck, and I stilled, relief at discovering it was Abram didn’t quite chase away the viral panic still attached to my hemoglobin, coursing through my veins. I shook. I was shaking. And I was gasping through my nose, greedy for air.

Perhaps he heard or felt my strained breathing because his arm loosened, lowering my feet to the ground, and his hand covering my mouth slid away. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” I said, not sounding convincing. Truth was, I felt like throwing up. “Can you, uh, let me go?”

His arms immediately fell away and I stupidly rushed forward, once more crashing into the stool.

I heard Abram mutter a curse under his breath just as he caught me again, lifting me off the ground again, and saving me—again—from another gravitational collision. This time he turned us away from the stool and carried me across the room.

I didn’t fight him this time. In fact, I relaxed into him. Wired and exhausted, but mostly embarrassed, I allowed myself to be transported without protest. We left the kitchen and I was finally able to see dim outlines of furniture and walls, courtesy of the streetlamp illumination spilling through the windows of the living room.

Abram carried me to my mother’s favorite piece of furniture in our house, a gold velvet chaise lounge said to have once belonged to Napoleon’s sister, Pauline Bonaparte. Depositing me on the soft surface, Abram crossed to one of the Tiffany lamps and pulled the chain, bathing the room in soft blue and yellow, colored light filtering through the stained glass.

He then returned, knelt in front of me, one hand on my leg, the other cupping my cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said, cleared my throat, unable to lift my eyes higher than his black T-shirt, and said again, “Yes.”

He blew out a breath, pushing his fingers through my hair. By doing so, he forced my chin up and caught my gaze. That wrinkle of worry appeared between his eyebrows, and his very pretty eyes—which glowed and sparkled like polished amber cabochons—moved between mine.

“You really freaked out.”

I stiffened, gritting my teeth and yanking my head back, out of his reach. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Watching me with watchful watchfulness, he let his hand drop slowly until it rested on my left leg, next to his other hand which covered my right knee. “I said your name—twice—when I walked in.”

“I didn’t hear you.” I glanced from his eyes to where his palms were hot on my skin. “And I couldn’t see. I’d just shut the fridge, my eyes hadn’t adjusted.”

“Did you think I was a robber?” His left eyebrow lifted as did the side of his mouth, just a hint.

Clearly, he was trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, I still felt shaky. And embarrassed.

“I- I didn’t think,” I admitted, releasing an unsteady breath. “I wasn’t thinking. Sorry I fell.”

“No need to apologize. It wasn’t like you could help it.”

“Yeah. Gravity can be such a downer.”

He made a light, laughing sound. “What?”

“Uh, nothing. Whatever.” No physics jokes!

His frown returned, his fingers flexing slightly on my legs. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Reaching for his hands, I removed them from my knees, setting them away. “I’m really fine. I just don’t like—”

He glanced at my knees. “Being touched?”

“When it’s unexpected.” I crossed my arms.

“That makes sense. But your reaction, even after you knew it was me—” He paused and sat back on his heels, as though debating how to continue and finally settling on, “It was a big reaction.” Abram continued to study me with his big, pretty, knowing brown eyes. “Hey, I would never hurt you.”

I winced, just a little, my gaze falling to my knees where his hands had been. I wanted to huff a laugh and roll my eyes, maybe say something like, I know, don’t be ridiculous.

But the word “Okay,” small and fragile sounding, slipped out instead. I immediately wished it back, because I didn’t understand it. I didn’t know why I’d said it, and I hated not knowing.

Get ahold of yourself, Mona. Pull it together. You are fine. Nothing happened.

Meanwhile, he continued his examination of me, I felt his stare, assessing my downturned face. “Out of curiosity, and no big deal if you don’t want to say, but did something happen to you this last year?”

My back straightened and I sucked in a slow, deep breath before asking calmly, “Like what?”

“You’re very . . . different than you were before.”

“Because I don’t want you touching me?” I tried to infuse my words with challenge, strength—wanting to shake off any earlier impression of weakness—and mostly succeeded. Peeking at him, I gauged his reaction from behind a hastily built wall of dispassion.

But then Abram dropped his chin to his chest, a massive grin lighting his features, and the fragrance of him hit me. My lashes fluttered as though he’d blown dust in my eyes, penetrating my wobbly wall of dispassion and sending it crumbling to the ground.

God, he smelled so good, and—unlike visual stimuli—I couldn’t stop whatever cascade of relaxing, soothing, melting awareness smelling his scent set off. Unthinkingly, I leaned forward an inch, chasing and inhaling the smell of him while he cleared his throat, like he was trying not to laugh.

Why he was fighting a laugh, I didn’t know, but the apparent genuineness of Abram’s struggle to subdue his grin only served to increase his attractiveness.

A moment later, he lifted his eyes and they connected with mine. He’d conceded to a shy smile. It was quite a smile.

“Yes,” he said.

“Yes?” I parroted dumbly. What were we talking about? And would it be weird if I buried my nose in his neck?

“Yes. You not wanting me to touch you means that you are very different now than you were before,” he explained.

I appreciated the completeness and thoroughness of his sentence.

My cheeks were hot. I pressed my hands against them while I examined him with suspicion. What was he doing to me?

“How so?” I asked, hoping to keep him talking so I could hunt down the splintered pieces of my concentration.

His eyebrows pulled together as his shy smile became a smirk. “You’re telling me you don’t remember?”

“Tell me your version of events,” I demanded, side-stepping a lie and still holding my cheeks.

“Uhh . . .” He scratched the back of his neck, peering at me like I both confused and amused him.

I was used to confusing people, but not amusing them. My cheeks burned hotter.

“Do you even remember?” I pushed, knowing my tone was belligerent.

He made a sound like he was choking on a laugh. “Yes. It’s hard to forget waking up to a naked girl in my bed.”

Jaw dropping, my eyes grew to their maximum diameter.

Naked. Girl. In . . . bed?

“Are you serious?” I whispered, my mind darting in all directions, attempting to form a reasonable hypothesis for Lisa’s behavior and coming up completely empty. Suddenly, I couldn’t catch my breath.

He shook his head, giving me an astonished once-over. “You honestly don’t remember?”

My mouth opened and closed as I struggled to speak, but it was no use. I was too . . . I was too many things. Shocked. Confused. Incredulous. ANGRY.

LISA!

What had she been thinking? She’d been eighteen! How would she have liked waking up to find a strange, naked, eighteen-year-old boy in her bed?

I was beyond shocked. I was horrified. I was electrocuted by the reality of my sister’s brazen-slash-creepy quotient, because I couldn’t imagine doing anything in the same sphere of possibility. I was beginning to believe that if my twin and I were represented by a Venn diagram, our only areas of overlap would be physical. A minor sliver of shared corporal characteristics, and that was absolutely it.

“Lisa?”

Blinking at Abram, and promptly becoming tangled in his searching gaze, I realized he was still there. And I was still here. And my hands were still pressed against my cheeks as I warred with what I now identified as hot mortification.

What else could I do? I shot to my feet and marched out of the living room, dropping my hands and running up the main staircase.



Pre-order the rest of the series today!

Space
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Time
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Meet Penny Reid
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Penny Reid is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal and USA Today Best Selling Author of the Winston Brothers, Knitting in the City, Rugby, and Hypothesis series. She used to spend her days writing federal grant proposals as a biomedical researcher, but now she just writes books. She’s also a full time mom to three diminutive adults, wife, daughter, knitter, crocheter, sewer, general crafter, and thought ninja.


Connect with Penny:

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Behind the "lights, camera, action" of Hollywood lies a world of deception, love, and seduction.

Are you ready for Hollywood Royalty?


Carter
A blonde, a brunette, a redhead…he can have his pick of them all on any given night and he knows it. They wait, hoping he looks up and gives them his signature smirk, choosing them over the others because that’s his game.

Except now he's signed the contract of a lifetime, one with a pesky little clause that says his zipper must stay up and his playboy image has got to tamp down. It'll be fine—a piece of cake, even—he can do this and he’s almost convinced himself of that … and then she walks in the room

The new PR girl whom they’ve hired to change his image, she's the star of all his dreams, but there’s one tiny little problem … she can't stand him and all of his player ways.

He knows he only has thirty days to show her why they call him Hollywood’s Prince. He’s up for the challenge, so game on.





Preorder Now

 


Natasha Madison
 

When her nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...




Title: A Model Fiancรฉ
Author: Nikky Kaye
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Romantic Comedy
Cover Design: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creation
 Release Date: March 14, 2019



Blurb

There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t ask Audrey to pretend to be my fiancรฉe. For a start:

1.    She’s my best friend’s sexy little sister.
2.    She’ll have to travel around the world with me.
3.    The paparazzi will eat her alive.
4.    So will I. 

But I also have a million followers on social media who think we’re already engaged, and there are millions of dollars at stake. 

So what have I got to lose?



I sighed heavily as I freed my toes from the death trap heels. “Men have it so easy. You don’t have to put up with this kind of torture. No hair, no make-up to do.”
Dev shrugged. “What can I say? I roll out of bed looking like this.”
My mouth went dry as I pictured him rolling out of bed. In my imagination, he was wearing a lot less than he was now.
By the time we reached the door to my room, I realized I was running out of time to proposition him. I dropped my shoes to rummage through my purse for the key card. Didn’t I just have it, to show the guard at the elevator bank? Yeesh.
Dev waited patiently beside me. He even bent down to pick up my shoes for me. The movement of his head near my waist made me pause. Gah. Trying to ignore the tingling feeling in my stomach, I kept searching. Blindly I felt a few things, but funnily enough I couldn’t find my card—or my courage.
Oh wait, there it was. It was in the side pocket, along with a ton of sexual tension.
I cleared my throat and tried to sound casual. “Uh, do you want to come in? We could catch up… or something?”
“Audrey.”
Something in his voice made me look up from the depths of my bag. His eyes were like obsidian in the light lining the never-ending corridor. When he stepped closer, my back went up against my door.
“Forget I asked,” I murmured.
He ran his thumb over my jaw, and I reflexively tilted my head up to him. He said my name again, his voice even rougher and deeper than before. My bare toes curled against the carpet.
Still buried in my bag, my hand closed around my key. I was running out of time. Without really thinking about it, I popped up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the beard-roughened space between the corner of his mouth and his jaw.
“Thanks for the escort.”
Somehow he moved even closer, because as I went back down on my heels, I found myself flat against the door and his body pressed against mine. It was hot and hard and… oh!
“Audrey?”
“Hmmm?” Was this like Beetlejuice? If he said my name three times in a row, would I come?
I looked up to see him lick his lips. He didn’t need his body to pin me to the door—his gaze did the job well enough.
“Give me your damn key,” he growled.






Author Bio


Nikky Kaye writes funny, sexy romance about sassy women in fabulous shoes and the alpha heroes who sweep them off their feet.

In real life, Nikky has dipped her toe in a lot of careers, but her twin boys always come first. When not writing, you may find her brandishing puns and power tools, or wandering through the dollar stores of western Canada.


Author Links




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ABBI BOOK INFORMATION
Title: Best I've Ever Had
Series: Standalone in the Sea Breeze meets Rosemary Beach
Author: Abbi Glines
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: March 22, 2019
Cover Designer: Ellie McLove

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ABBI SYNOPSIS
Summer had returned to the coastal town of Sea Breeze, Alabama. The nightlife lit up with scantily clad sun-kissed bodies, live music, the smell of freshly cooked seafood. Taking it all in he wondered if coming back had been the best thing. He wasn’t the same man who had driven out of town a year ago on the motorcycle he’d spontaneously bought after his best friend’s wedding. From the messy blond curls he’d let grow out to the tattoos now covering his arms, part of his chest and even the side of his neck, it all represented a part of his journey.  
Eli Hardy was back, but he didn’t plan on staying for long.

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ABOUT ABBI4872191


Abbi Glines is a #1 New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of the Rosemary Beach, Sea Breeze, Vincent Boys, Field Party and Existence series. She never cooks unless baking during the Christmas holiday counts. She believes in ghosts and has a habit of asking people if their house is haunted before she goes in it. She drinks afternoon tea because she wants to be British but alas she was born in Alabama. When asked how many books she has written she has to stop and count on her fingers. When she’s not locked away writing, she is reading, shopping (major shoe and purse addiction), sneaking off to the movies alone, and listening to the drama in her teenagers lives while making mental notes on the good stuff to use later. Don’t judge. You can connect with Abbi online in several different ways. She uses social media to procrastinate.

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