James Russo is enemy #1.

Hating him is in my blood.

Bitter Rival, an all-new forbidden romance from New York Times bestselling author J. Sterling, is available now!

My goal is to write books that you can get lost in and stories that will leave you with a smile and a full heart. If you can forget about the real world while you're reading and fall in love with my characters, then I've done my job. A lot of what I write has real life aspects in it, but that's what makes the stories so relatable- the fact that they could happen to anyone... and have! I live in California with my son, Blake. If you can't find me sitting behind a computer screen, then there's a good chance I'm sitting in the bleachers of a baseball stadium watching him play. I love traveling to new places, meeting my readers and spending time with the love of my life, my very own second chance romance, who inspires me daily. I know you have a million books to choose from and I am humbled, grateful and thankful each time you choose to read one of mine, or tell someone else to read them. Thank you.

Wow!!! Dax is the perfect man wrapped up in a sexy package! Sweet and considerate! Hot and sexy!! He’s definitely someone you’d want to take home to your mom. And because he’s a man’s man your dad would love him too!! Lol. I adored his relationship with his family. Darcy was the perfect match for him. She was so strong yet sweet. And I loved how she wasn’t the usual type of woman Dax went for. This slow burn friends to lovers story was so good! It also has me racing to go read Ditch for Ivy and Becker’s story!

“Where’s my favorite girl?” I call out, entering my childhood home. “I’m here, Uncle Dax!” my niece, Violet, hollers through the house just before her quick footsteps follow. My parents refused to let me buy them a new house once I started putting money in the bank. Mom didn’t want the neighbors to think she and Dad thought they were better than anyone else. This means my parents, my sister, and niece, all still live in the fifteen-hundred-square-feet home I grew up in. I did pay off their mortgage as well as my sister’s student loans before I set up a college fund for my niece, much to their dismay. But let’s be honest, it’s the least I could do for a family who’s always been there for me. Dad refused to retire from the hardware store, but I at least got him to agree to go from full-time to part-time a few years ago. It took some aggressive bargaining, but when I’d shown him how well the account I’d started for them with my financial planner had been doing, he’d finally relented. “Hey! I thought I was your favorite girl!” another female voice protests. “Well, I don’t know,” I hedge. “Depends on if you made any chocolate chip cookies.” My mother promptly swats at me with a laugh, the little crinkles at the corners of her eyes becoming more pronounced. The guys always say I resemble my mom, and even though I know they say it in more of a shit talking, you look like your mama kind of way, it’s still true. She and I have the same smile, and although her skin is darker than mine—my dad’s the odd man out in the family with fair white skin—there’s no mistaking me for being her son. I pull her close for a hug, and she pats my back, mumbling, “I swear, you just keep getting more muscles every time I see you.” The top of her head barely reaches my shoulder, and her dark hair seems like it has more gray threaded in it each time I see her. “Don’t give him a bigger head than he already has.” My eyes catch sight of Violet and my sister, Ava, entering the small kitchen. Mom releases me, and Violet rushes past her mother intent on getting to me first. I bend and scoop her up in a big hug. “Uncle Dax, I missed you.” Her whispered words wrap themselves around me. “I missed you, too, love bug.” God, I swear, she’s growing like a damn weed lately. Once I set her on her feet, she starts talking a mile a minute. “Oh my gosh, Uncle Dax! You’re not going to believe what happened the other day in gymnastics camp. That girl I told you about—the one who was saying my hair was weird and stuff—well, I finally had enough, and I did what you told me to do.” All eyes are suddenly on me. Trust me when I say this is not what a man wants in this household because it normally means I’m in deep shit. “Uh, remind me again what I told you?” I say slowly, praying to God above that I hadn’t made some idiotic, off-the-cuff comment as a joke, and she took me seriously. Violet gives me one of those old people are so forgetful looks. “You said I could use sarcasm because most people who are mean and rude don’t understand it, and it’ll go over their head and be a beautiful inside joke for you and everyone else who doesn’t have shit for brains.” “Violet,” my mother and Ava say in unison, flashing me a stern look. Violet grimaces. “Sorry. But I was quoting him.” Then she picks right up. “And then you said I should let it roll off my shoulders like it doesn’t bother me.” She grins happily. “Well, I did a combination of the two. And she’s totally left me alone ever since.” My niece pumps a fist in the air. “Go Team Kendrick!” “Way to go!” We exchange a high five. Sobering, I school my face in a stern expression. “Remember not to cuss, though. It’s not ladylike.” Her sweet face peers up at me, so adorably cute with such seriousness that it takes all my effort to not break into a smile. “How about ‘crap’?” “Uh…” I flick my eyes to Ava, who makes a face before shrugging. “I think that one can be okay, as long as it’s not overused.” Violet nods. “Noted.” God, this kid is such an old soul sometimes. “I’m going to practice my backflips for gymnastics some more out back.” In a flash, she’s gone. I sag against the counter. “Man, two minutes, and I’m exhausted.” My sister sidles up beside me and snickers. “As if Mr. Gatorade himself ever gets exhausted.” I toss her a sharp look. “Seriously? One advertising campaign for a sports drink, and you’re giving me sh—” “Ahem!” our mother clears her throat pointedly. “Crap.” Mom nods in approval, and I continue. “About it?” I place a palm flat against the center of my chest, feigning sadness. “Where’s the love?” She shoves at me playfully. “You get enough love from all your admirers.” Mom huffs. “You need to settle down with a nice woman.” “Speaking of a nice woman…” I press my lips thin, trying to figure out how to best tell them I decided to use a matchmaking service, but decide to throw caution to the wind. “I hired a professional,” I blurt out. As if in slow motion, my mother turns around slowly from where she’s stirring something on the stove. My sister’s jaw goes slack. And they both gape at me. Just the reaction a guy wants. My mother’s expression is horrified. Not quite what I was expecting, but then again, she’s always been a spitfire. “Dax Allen Kendrick! I forbid it!” I rear back, confused as hell. “Why would you forbid it?” Her jaw drops, and she gasps indignantly. “Why would I forbid it?!” She turns to my sister, her voice increasing in volume. “Why would I forbid it?!” “Say it again, Mom. Not sure we heard you the first time,” my sister deadpans. If my mother didn’t have a freaking wooden spoon in her hand, I’d let out the laugh aching to break free. I got to know that sucker really well through my early years, and even though I’m older, I don’t put it past my mother to come at me with that thing. Speaking of which, my right ass cheek starts to throb in remembrance at the mere sight of that spoon. I hold up my hands. “Calm down, Mom.” Shit. I didn’t expect this reaction. “Look, she’s great at what she does and—” The hand holding the wooden spoon rises another inch, and I flinch in response. “Don’t you tell me what she’s great at, young man!” I look at my sister, silently pleading for help. She merely shrugs, wide-eyed, with an I don’t pretend to understand her look. Great. I’m left to fend for myself once again. “Can you just put that thing”—I gesture to the spoon in her hand—“down, so I can explain?” My mother’s lips purse like she’s just bit into the sourest of lemons. Her eyes practically spew fire at me. “Fine.” Her tone is curt. “But you’re not too old to get swatted with it, young man,” she warns with a pointed look. My hands fly to my ass protectively, and my sister snorts. I glare at her, and she simply sticks her tongue out at me in response. Some things never change. “Okay, so Ivy, Becket’s wife—” My mother’s expression instantly softens. “Such a sweet girl, that one.” Then with a stern look, she adds, “You need to find someone like that.” I draw in a deep breath, praying for patience. “Ivy’s business partner, Darcy, runs a matchmaking service and—” At the odd expression on my mother’s face, I stop. “What’s that look for?” “Oh, honey.” She lets out a long sigh before spinning around to tend to the saucepan on the stove. I stare at my sister expectantly. Her lips twitch as though she’s attempting to restrain a smile. I wave her on. “Say it.” She snickers. “Mom thought when you said ‘professional,’ you meant prostitute.” I whip around to stare at my mother. “Are you serious?!” What the hell? “You really think I’d hire a freaking prostitute?” “Apparently so,” my sister chimes in with a smirk. I toss up my hands in exasperation. “I can’t believe you think I’d resort to that.” “Well,” my sister starts, “you have been single for a while.” “That doesn’t mean I’d hire a prostitute for fu—” Mom’s head whips around in warning, and I correct myself quickly. “For God’s sake.” “What’s a prostitute?” Fucking hell. Violet’s just come back inside. “Nothing.” That’s my mother’s response. “A person who makes bad choices.” My sister’s no-nonsense response. “A woman who sells—” This time, I really do get swatted with the wooden spoon. As if it doesn’t sting enough against my bare forearm, I now have a line of pasta sauce on it too. I grin and make a show of licking the sauce off my skin. Mom hates that. She raises the spoon threateningly, and I hold up my hands in surrender. “I just want to be loved. What’s a guy have to do to get some love these days?” “Pretty sure you already know what you have to do to get some love,” my sister mutters under her breath. I jab an index finger in her direction and give her a sharp look. “Watch it, or I’ll tell Mom who broke that angel statue she brought home from a garage sale.” Ava’s expression morphs into astonishment. “You swore you’d never bring that up!” Her lips curve suddenly in a devious smile. “As long as I never tell Mom what happened to that pair of booty shorts she got you for twenty-five cents.” “What shorts?” my mother asks. I stare at her in complete disbelief. “Seriously? You’re more worried about the hideous shorts that put my junk on display than the statue she broke?” My mother sputters. “But you said you loved those shorts!” I glance up at the ceiling, hoping for divine intervention, which, of course, never comes. “Mom,” I say with exaggerated patience. “The shorts were cut so high I would’ve had to wax.” “Well, you could’ve said so,” she huffs, turning back to the stove. “They were a great deal.” “I’m sure they were a steal for a quarter.” My sister snickers at my sarcastic response, and we burst out laughing. Our mom’s been a fan of garage sales for as far back as we can remember. Sometimes she brings home some decent stuff, but more often than not, it ends up being some hideous “treasure.” Hence the shorts. “You two are gonna get it!” Mom warns, raising that infamous wooden spoon once more. Man, it’s good to be home.

The Hardest Route, an all-new emotional and romantic standalone from A.S. Teague is available now!

A.S. Teague enjoys the warmth of South Carolina with her husband and two daughters. The stereotypes about peach cobbler and sweet tea are not overstated. After years in the medical field, she is now enjoying every minute of being a stay-at-home mom. She loves wine, the beach, wine on the beach, and crying at Disney movies. When she doesn't have a book in her hand, she can be found pestering her husband with pictures of animals she wants to rescue, as well as debating whether to exercise or take a nap.

       

What’s a girl to do after being ditched at the altar by text message? That’s right. Text. Message. How does she pick up the pieces and move on? I’m no Dear Abby but here’s a little free advice… Advice #1 – First, purge your apartment of all things him—by tossing his belongings off the balcony. Advice #2 – Do not, I repeat do not, throw anything out into the hallway because you’ll injure your hot new neighbor. Advice #3 – When said neighbor brings over Chinese Food do not let him stay and keep you company. It’s awkward when you realize he’s your boss. Advice #4 – Accept his offer to help you with your side business but think twice before using a date to his sister’s wedding as collateral. Advice #5 – Investigate who your mystery neighbor really is. Don’t trust his word even if he’s the world’s best kisser. If you listen to nothing else, pay attention to that last one. It’s the most important and will save you a lot of heartache. Xo, LOVESICK IN LAKE STARLIGHT   ADD TO GOODREADS  

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You’re not supposed to kiss your best friend.

Kiss and Break Up, an all-new angst-filled, friends to lovers New Adult romance from Ella Fields, is available now!

My Review:

Omg!! There is just something great about Ella Fields’s books! Kiss and Break Up was like watching an episode of a teenage show with rich kids. These characters are so deeply flawed yet I loved them so much. 

Peggy is incredible. She beats to the tune of her own drum. Wearing clothes that are her own unique style that may be considered ugly by some. Yet she wears them with pride. I love that about her. Her hobbies include video games and scrapbooking and it just shows how much of an individual she is. 

Dash is a completely different story. The bored rich kid that doesn’t care whatsoever what anyone thinks. He’s a complete jerk most of the time, but his very best friend is Peggy. They grew up together and just fit. While Dash is crude and insensitive to most people he does have a heart. He’s sweet and caring underneath it all but only to the select few he seems worthy. 

I freaking loved their story. I also loved the stories going on in the background with their friends. I’m crossing my fingers that we’ll get their full stories too because Magnolia Cove Prep is full of crazy drama and I love it!!

Excerpt:

I fell to the bed just as a thump hit the exterior of the house, and Dash launched himself through the window. “Can you ever land gracefully?” Or you know, use the front door. For as long as we’d lived here, he’d snuck in. At first, it was due to being unsure whether my mom would still want us hanging out, but it didn’t take her long to figure out what he was doing. She didn’t care. When I’d shaken like a mouse cornered in a kitchen, she’d smiled and told me she’d never stop us from being friends. Yet the window always remained unlocked. Dash kicked off his boots, and they hit the aging floor with two bangs. “I’m all man, baby. Not a fucking cat.” Hearing him say that reminded me of why he was here. I sprang to my feet, hurtling out into the hall and into the bathroom. “What are you doing?” Too busy gargling mouthwash, I didn’t answer and spat it into the sink as he appeared in the weathered mirror behind me. “Seriously?” he asked. “You burp in my face after eating garlic pizza, so this is just fucking dumb.” “You burped in my face first.” I put the cap back on the bottle, not meeting his gaze. I couldn’t. I headed back inside the safety of my room. But I had to wonder, as I heard Dash gargling mouthwash too, if it would be considered safe again after this. Would this ruin everything by making it awkward? “Dash,” I said, wringing my hands as I paced the floor of my room. “We probably shouldn’t be doing this. What if––” “What if it’s awesome and you fall madly in love with me? Well, we already know I don’t do commitment.” A tiny laugh skittered out. “No, what if it gets awkward? I don’t want anything to change.” He took me by the shoulders in the middle of my rainbow knitted rug and leveled me with his vibrant eyes. “We’ve done some pretty awkward shit, so what’s a little mouth to mouth going to change?” I nodded, exhaling slowly, then I frowned. “Why are you doing this? I mean, I know why I want to, but you? What do you even get out of it?” He grinned. “You might be my best friend, but I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to stick my tongue down your throat.” He tipped a muscled shoulder. “Let’s just say you’ll be killing that curiosity.” “You’ve always wondered?” “I’ve got eyes, Freckles. And I don’t need my glasses to appreciate the sight of something beautiful.” I blinked. “Wow. That was actually really swe––” “Shut your inexperienced mouth and kiss me.” I was still laughing when he grabbed my face, and then I squeaked as the world changed color, and his lips lowered over mine. My heart became a trumpet, blaring in my ears at the first touch of his lips. I pulled away, startled and still laughing. “Oh, my God.” Dash’s hands were warm on my face. “That good? They barely even touched.” “No,” I choked out, pushing his hands away. “It’s just … a little weird.” “Weird?” His brows scrunched. “We’ve barely even begun.” I blew out a shaky breath, unable to look at him as my hands flapped at my sides. I stared at his white shirt, looking at where the cotton met his tanned skin. “I don’t know, Dash.” “Wanna try again?” I looked at him then, at the eager glint in his blue eyes. “It’s not weird for you?” He chewed his bottom lip which was a little fatter than the top. And it’d just been touching mine. Oh, how crazy. “Maybe a smidgen. I can just picture Margot Robbie, and I’ll be good.” I froze. “Margot Robbie?” He gestured to my hair. “The blonde hair helps.” “Jesus.” I swiped my hands down my face. “This is dumb. Let’s just forget it.” He stood there a moment, glancing around my room. “Why don’t you imagine someone? That guy from the Thor movie. You like him.” “Chris Hemsworth?” “Yeah. Imagine him.” Then he grinned, waggling his brows. “Pucker up, baby.” “You didn’t just say that.” I laughed, plopping down on the edge of my bed. “Whatever. Are we trying again or what?” The thought of Byron and that mischievous twinkle in his green eyes, the way he’d wasted no time moving in to kiss me … yeah. I needed to do this. “Okay.” I shook out my hands, bouncing a little on the bed. “Okay, let’s do this.” Dash’s lips thinned. “This isn’t a cross meet. We’re only swapping germs.” “You just had to say that, didn’t you?” My pep had officially vanished. Dash tugged me off the bed. “Close your eyes and relax.” I tried, but I was as stiff as a board when his mouth met mine again. He tasted like spearmint and cigarettes, but his hands were gentle as one held my chin and the other glided through my hair to the back of my head. Slowly, with the soft press of his lips on mine and the gentle exploration of their shape, my limbs loosened. “Open,” he whispered, his voice threaded, rougher. I did, expecting the invasion of his tongue, but the velvet feel of it only traced the inner edges of my mouth. Out of all the things I’d expected to feel when he’d suggested this crazy idea, it wasn’t relaxed, and it certainly wasn’t the buzzing sensation currently warming my insides. “This isn’t so bad,” I said when he pulled back, my voice a low exhalation. “Good. Now repeat the same to me.” My eyes were about to spring open, but he growled. “Keep them closed. Don’t think, just do and feel.” Drawing in a quick breath through my nose, I found his stubble-coated cheeks with my hands and lifted myself on my toes. I tried to do the same thing he did to me, but my tongue plunged deeper, meeting the warm softness of his. I licked it, stroking cautiously until I heard him hum, the sound vibrating up his throat and causing our lips to mash together. His hands became firmer around my head, his tongue greedier, sweeping inside my mouth before my teeth found purchase on his plump bottom lip, and pulled. He groaned, and it had me staggering back, my heart racing and my breath an unsteady, embarrassing sound. Dash swallowed, then cleared his throat as he shifted on his feet. His eyes met mine, and I looked away, down to where my mint green toes were curling over the abrasive fabric of my rug. Awkward. This was so awkward, and I prayed we hadn’t just made a huge mistake. “So that’s how it’s done.” He grabbed the TV remote and plopped onto my bed. “Got any popcorn?” I shook my head. “Wait, that’s um, it?” He started flicking through Netflix. “Well, yeah. Not much else to it. We can practice again before your date if you want, but I’m fucking starving, and we need to re-watch the last season of GoT before the new one is out.” “Oh, yeah,” I said, remembering I’d promised him that weeks ago. Hungry myself, I stepped outside, then scowled at him from the doorway. “Don’t put your socks near my pillow.” He grumbled but shifted and moved over to the other side of the bed.
Ella Fields is a mother and wife who lives in the land Down Under. While her kids are in school, you might find her talking about her characters and books to her two cats. She’s a notorious chocolate and notebook hoarder who enjoys creating hard-won happily ever afters.