google-site-verification: googleac360fc8074aac27.html google-site-verification: google6040e131018c9d7f.html KCBR Blog -
Tuesday, October 10, 2017

NEW RELEASE REVIEW: From This Moment by Melanie Harlow

From This Moment, an all-new sexy and emotional standalone from USA Today Bestselling author Melanie Harlow is LIVE! Check out my review below. 
Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

From This Moment by Melanie Harlow
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publishing Date: October 10th, 2017

Synopsis:
It was like seeing a ghost. 
When my late husband’s twin brother moves back to our small town, I want to avoid him. Everything about Wes reminds me of the man I lost and the life we’d planned together, and after eighteen long months struggling just to get out of bed, I’m finally doing okay. I have a new job, an amazing support group, and a beautiful five-year-old daughter to parent. I don’t want to go backward.
But I’m drawn to him, too. He understands my grief and anger and guilt like no one else—and I understand his. Before long, that understanding becomes desire, and that desire becomes uncontrollable. 
He says he doesn't care what people think, and love can never be wrong. But life has taught me its cruelest lesson--love doesn't always win.
If only my heart would believe it.

Read Today!
Amazon US  http://amzn.to/2xtBtbg
Amazon UK  http://amzn.to/2xgImS6

Add to GoodReads   https://goo.gl/J3ogH4


REVIEW OF FROM THIS MOMENT
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
From This Moment is total Kindle Crack!
Imagine falling for your dead husband's identical twin brother? From the moment I picked up this book, I was captivated by Wes and Hannah’s heartwrenching story. Hannah is still reeling from the sudden death of her husband Drew. She is doing her best to raise their daughter by herself. Her brother-in-law returns home after being away for many years and rekindles a friendship with Hannah. Hannah was the one that got away. She married his brother. Is Hannah falling for Wes or just a ghost?

From This Moment, by Melanie Harlow, packed an emotional punch. Hannah and Wes' story felt like a second chance forbidden romance. I enjoyed the way this story developed through alternating point of views. Hannah’s inner monologues felt very real and raw. She was insecure and questioned everything in her life. From This Moment is well written and an addictive read. One-click worthy.

READ THE FIRST CHAPTER TODAY!

About the Author: 
Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she's not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak. Melanie is the author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit. 

Connect with Melanie:
Facebook:
Twitter: @MelanieHarlow2

Sign up for Melanie’s Newsletter: http://www.melanieharlow.com/subscribe/
Thursday, October 5, 2017

EXCERPT REVEAL: From This Moment by Melanie Harlow

From This Moment, an all-new sexy and emotional standalone from USA Today Bestselling author Melanie Harlow is coming October 10th!

Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog
From This Moment by Melanie Harlow
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publishing Date: October 10th, 2017

It was like seeing a ghost. 

When my late husband’s twin brother moves back to our small town, I want to avoid him. Everything about Wes reminds me of the man I lost and the life we’d planned together, and after eighteen long months struggling just to get out of bed, I’m finally doing okay. I have a new job, an amazing support group, and a beautiful five-year-old daughter to parent. I don’t want to go backward.

But I’m drawn to him, too. He understands my grief and anger and loneliness like no one else—and I understand his. Before long, that understanding becomes desire, and that desire becomes uncontrollable. 

We make excuses. We blame our sorrow. We promise each other it will never happen again.

But it does.

And when our secret threatens to destroy his family and my reputation, we’ll have to decide what’s more important—loyalty or love?

Excerpt:
“Want to go out in the canoe?” he asked.
“Okay.” I ditched my flip-flops on the small, beach-level deck, and we set our wine glasses and the bottle on the deck’s little round table. Wes was already barefoot. Together we dragged the forest green canoe from the tall beach grasses on the side of the deck down to the water’s edge and tipped it over.
“Let me rinse it out a little,” Wes said, frowning at the dirt and spider webs inside. “Want to grab the paddles? They should be in the shed.”
“On it.” I went to the small shed on the embankment, opened it up and grabbed the oars, which stood in one corner. On the shelves were life jackets and sand toys and deflated rafts that probably had holes in them, and scratched into the wooden door among other graffiti was WP + CB. Huh. I’d never noticed that before. Who was CB? I glanced over my shoulder at Wes, who’d taken off his T-shirt and tossed it onto the sand.
My stomach full-out flipped.
Quickly, I shut the door to the shed and brought the oars down to the canoe.
Wes stood up straight and stuck his hands on his hips. He wore different sunglasses than Drew had worn, more of an aviator than a wayfarer. The body was similar, though Wes’s arms seemed more muscular, especially through the shoulder. Other things were the same and caused a rippling low in my body—the soft maroon color of his nipples, the trim waist, the trail of hair leading from his belly button to beneath the low-sling waistband of his red swim trunks. In my head I heard Tess’s voice. Arms. Chest. Shoulders. Skin. Stubble. Muscle. The smell of a man. The solidity of him.
“What’s the law on drinking and canoeing?” he asked.
What’s the law on staring at your brother-in-law’s nipples? I wondered, swallowing hard. What was wrong with me?
“I think we’re okay,” I said, handing the oars to him. Our hands touched in the exchange. “Let me grab our glasses.”
“Perfect. If you hold them, I’ll take us out.”
I retrieved the wine glasses from the table and walked carefully across the sand to the lake’s edge, taking deep, slow breaths. A sweat had broken out across my back. I was wearing a swimsuit beneath my cover up, a modest tankini, but I didn’t want to remove it. Wading ankle deep, I attempted to step into the canoe, but it wobbled beneath my foot.
“Whoa.” Wes took me by the elbow and didn’t let go until I was seated at one end, facing the other. “Okay?”
I nodded. Despite the heat, my arms had broken out in goose flesh.
“All right, here we go.” As he rowed us away from shore, the breeze picked up, cooling my face and chest and back.
“Drew and I used to have canoe-tipping contests.”
I snapped my chin down and skewered Wes with a look over the top of my sunglasses. “Don’t even think about it.”
He just grinned, the muscles in his arms and chest and stomach flexing with every stroke of the oars through the water. Momentarily mesmerized, I allowed myself the pleasure of watching him. It was okay if we were both thinking about Drew, wasn’t it?
In fact, it was only natural that I was intrigued by the sight of Wes’s body. He was my husband’s identical twin, for heaven’s sake, and I missed his physical presence in my life. I missed looking at him naked. I missed feeling the weight of him above me. I missed the feeling of being aroused by him, of my body’s responses to his touch, his kiss, his cock.
Deep in my body, the rusty mechanism of arousal creaked to life. My nipples peaked, my stomach hollowed, and something fluttered between my legs.
Oh, Jesus.
I sat up straighter, pressed my knees together, and closed my mouth, which I realized had fallen open. Hopefully I hadn’t moaned or anything. After another sip of wine, I turned my head and studied a freighter off in the distance. My heart was beating way too fast.
It’s only natural. It’s only natural.
Wes stopped paddling and set the oars in the bottom of the canoe, their handles resting against the seat in the middle. “We’ll have to bring Abby out here.”
“Definitely.” Did my voice sound normal? “She’ll love it. Here, want this?” I held his wine glass toward him and he reached out to take it. His fingers brushed mine, and I pulled my hand back as if the touch had burned me.
“Thanks.” He tipped the glass up then looked along the shore. “I’d like to find a place on the lake. Maybe not along this stretch of beach, though.”
I caught his meaning and smiled. “A little too close to home?”
“Yeah. But I don’t want to be too far away. I’d like to get a boat too.”
“What kind of boat? Drew always talked about it, but we never quite settled on one.”
“Not sure. Maybe just a little fishing boat, something to ski behind.”
“That sounds fun. Drew loved to ski.”
“We’ll have to teach Abby.”
I laughed. “You, not we. I managed to get up and stay up a few times, but I am not the expert.”
“You can teach her to cook, I’ll teach her to water ski.”
“Deal.” Separate activities seemed like a good idea.
“Breakfast was incredible.”
“Thanks.” I tucked a strand of hair that had escaped my ponytail behind my ear, but the wind blew it right back into my face. “I really like working there. I’m so glad Georgia suggested it to me.”
“How long have you been there?”
“Since spring, when they got busy. I’m not sure what I’ll do this winter when it slows down. I’m dreading it, actually. Abby will be in school full time, and it will just be me at home alone.” This was something else I hadn’t talked about with anyone, how worried I was that the gray skies and cold weather and silent hours would set me spiraling into depression. “I always thought I’d have another baby to take care of, but life saw things differently.”
“You’re still young, Hannah.”
I shook my head. “I’m really not. And I feel even older than I am.” Please don’t go Grief Police on me and tell me I’m being ridiculous, I begged him silently. This isn’t the life I chose. It was handed to me and I’m doing the best I can.
Wednesday, October 4, 2017

CHAPTER REVEAL: Hooking Up by Helena Hunting

Read the first chapter of Hooking Up by Helena Hunting.  This standalone romcom sounds like it's going to be sexy and fun. Hooking Up will release on 11/7.


Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog


PRE-ORDER:

Synopsis: 
Amalie Whitfield is the picture of a blushing bride during her wedding reception–but for all the wrong reasons. Instead of proclaiming his undying love, her husband can be heard, by Amalie and their guests, getting off with someone else. She has every reason to freak out, and in a moment of insanity, she throws herself at the first hot-blooded male she sees. But he’s not interested in becoming her revenge screw.
Mortified and desperate to escape the post-wedding drama, Amalie decides to go on her honeymoon alone, only to find the man who rejected her also heading to the same tiny island for work. But this time he isn’t holding back. She should know better than to sleep with someone she knows, but she can’t seem to resist him.
They might agree that what happens on the island should stay on the island, but neither one can deny that their attraction is more than just physical.
Filled with hilariously scandalous situations and enough sexual chemistry to power an airplane from New York City to the South Pacific, Hooking Up is the next standalone, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy from Helena Hunting, the New York Times bestselling author of the Pucked series and Shacking Up.

One
Wedding Unbliss
Amie
This is the happiest day of my life. I allow that thought to roll around in my head, trying to figure out why it doesn’t seem to resonate the way it should. This should be the happiest day of my life. So I’m not exactly certain why the uneasy feeling I associate with cold feet is getting worse rather than dissipating. I’ve already done the hard part; walked down the aisle and said “I do.”
My husband excused himself to go to the bathroom several minutes ago and, based on Armstrong’s itinerary for the day, speeches are supposed to begin promptly at eight-thirty. According to my phone, that’s less than two minutes from now, and he’s not here. The emcee for the evening is awaiting Armstrong’s return before he begins. And then the real party can start. The one where we get to celebrate our commitment to each other as partners for life. As in the rest of my breathing days. Dear God, why does that make my stomach twist?
I sip my white wine. Armstrong pointed out that red is not a good idea with my dress, even though it’s my preference. Besides, I don’t want it to stain my teeth. That would make for bad pictures.
I glance around the hall and see my parents, who are probably celebrating the fact that I didn’t walk down the aisle with a convicted felon. And frankly, so am I. My dating history pre-Armstrong wasn’t fabulous.
The sheer number of people in attendance spikes my anxiety. Speaking in front of all of these people makes me want to drink more, which is a bad idea. Tipsy speeches could lead to saying the wrong thing. I check my phone under the table again. It’s after eight-thirty. The longer Armstrong takes to return, the further behind we’ll get. The music playlist, devised by Armstrong with painstaking efficiency, leaves no room for tardiness. If we don’t start on time I’ll have to take out a song, or possibly two, to compensate for his delay and he’s selected the order in such a way as to make that difficult and that will annoy him. I just want today to be perfect. I want it to be reflective of my decision to marry Armstrong. That I, Amalie Whitfield, can make good choices and am not a disgrace to my family.
“Where the hell is he?” I scan the room and take another small sip of my wine. I should switch to water soon so I don’t end up drunk, especially later, when all of this is over and we can celebrate our lifelong commitment to each other without clothes on. I’m hopeful it will last more than five minutes.
Ruby, my maid of honor and best friend for the past decade, puts a hand on my shoulder. “Would you like Bancroft to find Armstrong?”
Bancroft, or Bane for short, is Ruby’s boyfriend who she’s been living with for several months. Recently I find myself getting a little jealous of how affectionate they still are with each other, even after all this time. Cohabitation hasn’t slowed them down on the sex or their PDA. I have hope that Armstrong and I will be more like Bane and Ruby now that we’ll be sharing the same bed every night.
I’m about to tell Ruby to give him another minute when a low buzz suddenly fills the hall. It sounds like a school PA system. I start to panic—they can’t start the speeches without Armstrong at my side. What’s the point of speeches if the groom isn’t present?
I’m halfway out of my seat, ready to tell the deejay, or whoever is behind the mic, he needs to wait, when a very loud moan echoes through the room. The acoustics are phenomenal in here, it’s why we chose this venue.
I glance at Ruby to make sure I’m not hearing things. Her eyes are wide. The kind of wide associated with shock. The same shock I’m feeling.
Another moan reverberates through the sound system, followed by the words, “Oh, fuuuck.”
A collective gasp ripples through the now-silent crowd. While the words themselves are scandalous among these guests, it’s the voice groaning them that makes me sit up straighter, and simultaneously consider hiding under the table.
“Fuck yeah. Ah, suck it. That’s it. Deep throat it like a good little slut. Fuuuuuccckkkkk.”
My mouth drops and I look to Ruby to ensure I have not completely lost my mind. “Is that—” I don’t finish the sentence. I already know the answer to the question, so it’s pointless to ask. Besides, I’m cut off by yet another loud groan. I clap a hand over my mouth because I’m not sure I’m able to close it, my disbelief is as vast as the ocean.
Ruby’s expression mirrors mine, except hers is incredibly animated since she’s an actress. “Oh my God. Is that Armstrong?” Her words are no more than a whisper, but they sound very much like a scream. Oh no, wait, that’s just Armstrong on the verge of an orgasm. But these sounds are nothing like the ones he makes when he’s in the throes of passion with me.
I clutch Ruby’s hand. The next sound that comes from him is a hybrid between a hyena laugh and a wolf baying at the moon. And every guest at our wedding is hearing the same thing I am. Our wedding. Someone other than me is blowing my husband at my own wedding. My mortification knows no end.
I grab the closest bottle of wine and dump the contents into my glass. Some of it sloshes over the edge and onto the crisp white tablecloth. It doesn’t matter. There’s plenty more where it came from. I chug the glass, then grab Ruby’s.
People lean in and whisper to each other, eyes lift to the speakers. A few people, the ones who are probably just here for the social-ladder-climbing potential, question who it is.
“Is the deejay watching porn?” That comment comes from a table full of mostly drunk singles in their early twenties.
Several eyes shift my way as I carelessly down Ruby’s wine and someone asks where the groom has disappeared to.
The grunts and groans grow terrifyingly louder. This is nothing like what I’m used to in bed with Armstrong. The dirty words aren’t something he ever uses with me, mostly it’s just noises and sometimes a “Right there” or “I’m close,” but that’s about it. He’s never talked to me like he is to the woman currently providing oral pleasure. And I’m very adept at oral. Although with Armstrong it’s very polite, neat oral, with no sounds other than the occasional hum. Slurping is uncivilized and a definite no-no.
I reach past Ruby for the bottle of red since I don’t really give a flying fuck about purple teeth right now. As I sink low in my seat I pour another glass of wine, surveying the people in the ballroom from behind the cover of the centerpiece. The centerpieces are huge and excessive and I don’t like them at all, but at least provides a protective barrier between the guests and my disgust, which I’m certain they must share. He sounds like a wild animal rutting. It is entirely unsexy. I have no idea who he’s getting intimate with, but I’m suddenly very glad it’s not me.
And doesn’t that tell me more about our relationship than it should.
It’s only been about thirty seconds—the most humiliating thirty seconds of my life—before Armstrong comes. How do I know this? Because he says, very clearly, “Keep sucking, baby, I’m coming.”
And “baby,” whoever she is, makes these horrific gurgling noises. It sounds like some form of alien communication. It’s way over the top, and apparently Armstrong is loving it, based on the string of vile profanity that spews from his asshole mouth.
“Holy crap. Is this for real? That was really fast,” Ruby mutters.
I guzzle my glass of wine. Then decide the glass is unnecessary and take a long swig from the bottle before Ruby snatches it away. Wine dribbles down my chin and onto my chest, staining the white satin purple. My dress is ruined. I should be freaking out. But I really don’t care.
“Come on,” Ruby tugs on my hand. “We need to get you out of here while people are still distracted.”
My older brother Pierce and the emcee are standing in the middle of the hall, gesturing wildly to the speakers above us. My other brother, Lawson, is on his way toward the podium in an attempt to do something. I don’t think there’s anything he can do to stop this train wreck from there.
Ruby tugs again, but I’m frozen, still trying to figure out what exactly just happened. Well, I know what’s happened. I just can’t believe it.
The sound of a zipper and the rustle of clothes follows. “Thanks for that, now I’ll be able to last later tonight,” Armstrong says.
“What about me?” A female asks. Her voice is nasally and whiny.
“What about you?”
“Well I helped you, aren’t you going to help me?”
“Didn’t you come with a date?”
“Well, yes, but—” God her voice is familiar. I just can’t figure out where I know it from.
“My cousin, right? He loves my sloppy seconds. Speeches are starting. I gotta get back to my ball and chain.”
Gasps of horror ripple through the room, followed by a few giggles. These people really are assholes.
I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t believe he’s going to come out here and pretend nothing just happened. Like some other woman didn’t just have her lips around his cock. His distinctly average cock. Maybe even slightly below average in length, if I’m being one hundred percent honest.
A door opens and closes.
Lawson turns on the mic behind the podium and taps it, sending screeching feedback through the room, making people cringe. Too bad no one did that a minute ago.
Murmuring grows louder and glances flicker to the head table and then away as Brittany Thorton, a seriously skanky debutante, comes strutting through the doors, using a compact to check her lipstick. She’s made it her mission to attempt to get into the pants of half the eligible men in this room. She’s followed, not five seconds later, by a very smug-looking Armstrong.
Monday, October 2, 2017

BOOK REVIEW + SIGNED HARDCOVER GIVEAWAY: Without Merit by Colleen Hoover


Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog
I read Without Merit by Colleen Hoover a few months ago. It took me quite some time to digest all of the complex emotions I felt after reading this book. Look for my 5-star spoiler-free review below. I'm so excited for you guys to read this book. Without Merit will release on 10/3.  #withoutmeritbook 


Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog


WITHOUT MERIT
BY COLLEEN HOOVER
Atria Books Paperback | 384 pages | ISBN: 9781501170621 | October 3, 2017 | $16.00
eBook: 384 pages | ISBN: 9781501170638 | $7.99

ORDER WITHOUT MERIT:
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2vtqsL8
Books-a-Million: http://bit.ly/2wTAhCc
Indiebound: http://bit.ly/2gqKTBG

Not every mistake deserves a consequence. Sometimes the only thing a mistake deserves is forgiveness.

Visit www.WithoutMeritbook.com for teasers, tour dates and more.

ABOUT WITHOUT MERIT:
The Voss family is anything but normal. They live in a repurposed church, newly baptized Dollar Voss. The once cancer-stricken mother lives in the basement, the father is married to the mother’s former nurse, the little half-brother isn’t allowed to do or eat anything fun, and the eldest siblings are irritatingly perfect. Then, there’s Merit.

Merit Voss collects trophies she hasn’t earned and secrets her family forces her to keep. While browsing the local antiques shop for her next trophy, she finds Sagan. His wit and unapologetic idealism disarm and spark renewed life into her—until she discovers that he’s completely unavailable. Merit retreats deeper into herself, watching her family from the sidelines, when she learns a secret that no trophy in the world can fix.

Fed up with the lies, Merit decides to shatter the happy family illusion that she’s never been a part of before leaving them behind for good. When her escape plan fails, Merit is forced to deal with the staggering consequences of telling the truth and losing the one boy she loves.

Poignant and powerful, WITHOUT MERIT explores the layers of lies that tie a family together and the power of love.

Without Merit Review

Without MeritWithout Merit by Colleen Hoover

My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I read Without Merit a few months ago. It took me quite some time to digest all of the complex emotions I felt after reading this book. I have two children (teenager and pre-teen), and this book made me think about my own family dynamics.

Everyone has felt like Merit at some point in their lives, alone but not lonely. I also believe everyone has some dysfunctional element to their family dynamics. Or maybe it’s just me?

Without Merit is unlike anything Colleen Hoover has written. This is not a classic romance novel with your latest and greatest book boyfriend. This is the story of Merit, a seventeen-year-old girl who is battling her own personal demons within the walls of a repurposed church, turned family home. Merit is drowning in her own depression, which stems from issues with her own self-worth and her dysfunctional family relationships. Merit wonders if her family would even notice if she was gone.

"I didn’t matter, but I don’t. I hate it here, too. I don’t matter here, either. If I dropped out of life, just like I dropped out of school, everyone’s lives would go on. With or without Merit.”

Merit is tired of being the crypt keeper of lies and secrets. Years of compressing and compartmentalizing it all has taken its toll on her emotional well-being.

“Maybe if I let all the secrets out, they wouldn’t make me feel like drowning anymore. Yes. Maybe that would help. Maybe getting it all out will help me feel like I’m not about to implode.”

Without Merit is infused with Colleen’s signature wit and addictive writing style. She pulled on all of my emotions. This book was heartbreaking, humorous at times, raw and complex. While the topics were serious, as a reader I didn’t find this book either dark or depressing. It made me think and feel along with the narrator. Colleen tackled some complicated topics with grace in this all-consuming, coming of age, soon to be YA/NA classic. She weaved an intricate web of emotions while unmasking the ugly reality of teenage depression. This story is thought-provoking and simply must be read. Not because it's a CoHo book, but because it's important. This book will touch everyone's heart and soul in that special way that Colleen does, time and time again.

description

This review appears on www.kindlecrack.net, www.facebook.com/kindlecrack, Goodreads, Amazon, Pinterest, Google+ and Twitter. A review copy of this book was kindly provided by the author in exchange for an honest review.



ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog
Author Colleen Hoover photo credit: Chad Griffith

Colleen Hoover
 is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Slammed, This Girl, Point of Retreat, Hopeless, Losing Hope, Finding Cinderella, Maybe Someday, Ugly Love, Maybe Not, Confess, November 9, and It Ends with Us. She has won the Goodreads Choice Award for Best Romance twice – for Confess in 2015 and It Ends with Us in 2016. Confess was adapted into a seven-episode online series. In 2015, Colleen and her family founded The Bookworm Box, a bookstore and monthly subscription service offering signed novels donated by authors. All profits are given to various charities each month to help those in need. Colleen lives in Texas with her husband and their three boys. Please visit ColleenHoover.com.

FIND COLLEEN ONLINE:
Twitter: @ColleenHoover
Instagram: @ColleenHoover

GIVEAWAY:
Win 1 of 5 limited edition signed hardcover copies of WITHOUT MERIT! Contest is open until October 30th.

a Rafflecopter giveaway


 Don’t miss Colleen on tour for WITHOUT MERIT:
Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

SEATTLE, WA
Monday, October 2nd
THIRD PLACE BOOKS
7:00 PM    
17171 Bothell Way NE
Lake Forest Park, WA  98155

LOS ANGELES, CA
Tuesday, October 3rd
CHEVALIER'S BOOKS
7:00 PM    
126 N. Larchmont Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA  90004

KANSAS CITY, KS
Wednesday, October 4th
WOODNEATH LIBRARY CENTER
7:00 PM    
8900 NE Flintlock Rd
Kansas City, MO  64157

CHICAGO, IL
Thursday, October 5th
ANDERSON'S BOOKSHOP – LA GRANGE
7:00 PM    
26 S La Grange Rd
La Grange, IL  60525

CINCINNATI, OH
Friday, October 6th
JOSEPH-BETH BOOKSELLERS
7:00 PM    
2692 Madison Road
Cincinnati, OH  45208

POTTSTOWN, PA
Saturday, October 7th
BOOKS-A-MILLION
6:00 PM    
Coventry Mall
351 W. Schuylkill Road Ste G16
Pottstown, PA  19465
https://www.eventbrite.com/e/meet-colleen-hoover-at-books-a-million-pottstown-pa-tickets-37311651153

NEW YORK, NY
Sunday, October 8th
NEW YORK COMIC CON
3:00 PM to 5:00 PM   
500 West 36th Street
Hudson Mercantile
New York, NY  10018

DALLAS, TX
Tuesday, October 10
SMU BOOKSTORE
7:00 PM    
B&N College
Southern Methodist University Bookstore
3060 Mockingbird Lane
Dallas, TX  75205


ROMANCE BOOK REVIEW + $50 GIFT CARD: Still by Kennedy Ryan

Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog


Be STILL my heart. Check out my spoiler-free review of Still by Kennedy Ryan.  I absolutely loved this book. Enter Kennedy's giveaway for a $50.00 gift card below. 

Series reading order:
FLOW - Prequel is FREE - http://amzn.to/2wOC1Ix
GRIP - 99 CENTS - http://amzn.to/2xx3u4W
STILL - NEW RELEASE -  http://amzn.to/2xx3u4W


Kindle Crack Book Reviews Blog

"Grip is my ultimate...If I was forced, gun-to-the head, to make one book boyfriend real to be mine, it would be him. No questions asked." 
-- Adriana Locke, USA Today Bestselling Author

STILL, the sexy, emotional final installment of the GRIP series, 
is available NOW!

Enter the $50 Gift Card Release Giveaway!



I'll be there.
Through thick and thin.
Ride or die.
You can count on me.

The promises people make. The vows we take. 
Assumptions of the heart.
Emotion tells us how we feel, but life...life has a way of plunging us in boiling water, burning away our illusions, testing our faith, trying our convictions. 
Love floating is a butterfly, but love tested is an anchor.

For Grip and Bristol,
Love started at the top of the world
On a Ferris wheel under the stars
But when that love is tested, will they fly or fall?

Read STILL Today!
Special Release Sale: $2.99
(Free in Kindle Unlimited) 
Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2vBiUWN

Start the Series FREE Today! 
FLOW, the FREE prequel, MUST BE READ before GRIP!
Amazon UK  http://amzn.to/2xSpMMS
Audio Book  http://bit.ly/FLOWAudiobook
WATTPAD   http://w.tt/2kUo8Yk

Read GRIP Today for only 99¢!
(Free in Kindle Unlimited)
Amazon US  http://amzn.to/2xx3u4W
Amazon UK  http://amzn.to/2gz387W
Amazon CA  http://amzn.to/2vADPJn
Amazon AU  http://amzn.to/2gsH3Em
Audio Book  http://bit.ly/GRIPAudiobook

REVIEW OF STILL
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I knew I loved Grip. BUT how is it possible for me to love him even more?
UPDATED:
Love is color blind. Society is not. This kind of ignorance has been a reality in society for generations. This story poignantly shows the effects of racial divide tucked into a heartbreakingly beautiful love story. All the feels. I want to hug Kennedy Ryan for writing this incredible book.
I added Grip to my book boyfriend list. I think I'm going to start a book girlfriend list with Bristol at the top. Her love, commitment, and strength were awe-inspiring. Still is not to be missed. Please read this series in order.

FLOW
GRIP
STILL
Join the GRIP Discussion Group:
(Not until you’re done!)

Join the STILL Recovery Room:
(Not until you’re done!)

Order Signed GRIP Series Paperbacks:

Excerpt: 
“Mmmmm, that looks good.”
    The comment grabs my attention, and I find myself smiling for the first time since I left Bristol. As she walks toward me, the approaching sunset paints the roof in shadows, but I see her clearly. Dark hair, burnished in places, falls around her shoulders. She has already discarded the dress she wore at lunch today in favor of a T-shirt and nothing else; it’s the one I just tossed into the hamper.
    She tugs at my HABITUAL LINE STEPPER T-shirt, the hem landing at the top of her thighs. Where the T-shirt stops, my eyes keep going, past the lean muscles of her legs and the cut of her calves, the delicate bones of her ankles and to her bare feet. I love this girl, head to toe. Beyond this gorgeous packaging, it’s everything beneath that makes me beyond grateful she’s mine. The loyalty, the bottomless pit that is her heart, her sense of humor. The toughest girl I know is also the most tender, and I’m so honored I get to see both sides, all her sides.
    “You out of clean clothes?” I nod to my T-shirt. “You gotta wear my dirty stuff now?”
    An impish smile tugs at her bare lips. She’s washed away her makeup, and with it, all the sophistication she wraps around herself for her job. Up on this roof in my T-shirt, she’s just my girl. I love her in every iteration, but this is the one only I get to see, so it’s probably my favorite.
    “I have clean clothes.” She steps close enough for me to smell her scent and mine mingling in the fabric. “I like the way this shirt smells.”
    I drop a look over her, my eyes resting on the curves of her breasts in the soft cotton, where her nipples have gone taut under my stare.
    “How does the shirt smell?” I ask, my voice as smoky as the steaks I should be paying attention to.
    “Like you.” She leans forward until her breasts press into my chest. “It smells like you.”
    My hands are twitching to touch her, and I finally surrender, slipping under the shirt to grasp her waist, pulling her up the few inches until our lips meet. I’ve been thinking about these steaks all day, and before Bristol arrived, I thought I was starving—but this, what I feel having her in my arms after hours apart, this is starving. It starts in my balls and tunnels up through my chest, infiltrates my heart, and presses its way to my mouth, which is open and devouring in a lips-searching, tongues-dueling kiss. I grip her by the ass, grinding our bodies together until the texture of her skin and mine, the scents of her skin and mine meld into this one panting, voracious thing that never seems to get enough.
    “You better not burn my steak,” Bristol pants in between kisses.
    I angle my head to send my tongue deeper into her mouth, holding her still, teasing her until she’s straining up, open and begging when I pull back.
    “Grip.” My name is a whimpering complaint. She cups my neck and tugs my head back down.
    “Oh, no.” I resist, laugh, and turn to the grill. “You were so concerned about me burning these steaks, Ms. Medium Rare.”
Skimlinks Test