Ongoing Giveaways!

Becoming Lady Lockwood by Jennifer Moore - Win $50 Amazon/Paypal cash, ends August 8
Tempted by His Touch historical anthology - Win an iPad Mini with surprise bonus books, ends in October
Mastering the Marquess by Lavinia Kent - A $25 egiftcard to Your ebook retailer of choice and a Loveswept mug.
I Adored a Lord by Katharine Ashe - Win 3 digital copies of I Married the Duke, ends August 26
Love and Let Spy by Shana Galen - Win a paperback copy of the book, ends August 12

Friday, September 12, 2014

Book Review: What a Lady Most Desires by Lecia Cornwall

Okay. I'll admit. Secretly, in the private confines of my bedroom, I'm all for this cover. 
Bare chested. Rippling Muscles. Dagger on the side. 
Oh yeah. Please bring the fan while I proceed to swoon.

In Public? You know the situation.


The Duchess of Richmond’s Ball, Brussels

He was the only man in the world who had the power to stop her breath just by walking
into a room.

“Lady Delphine, I believe this is our dance.”
Major Stephen Ives was standing next to her, and her breath stopped yet again. She shut her
mouth with an audible snap.

The door of the study opened again, and a grim-faced cavalry officer held up his hand
for silence. The music faltered and died. “Gentlemen, finish your dances, take leave of
your partners and return to your units at once.” Dismayed cries rose from the ladies, and
Stephen looked around, taking note of the officers in his own regiment.
“What news?”
The young soldier glanced at her and bowed before replying. “Napoleon crossed the
frontier at Charleroi. Wellington plans to engage him south of here.”

Delphine put a hand to her throat. It was suddenly real and frightening—all the weeks
of watching troops gather in preparation for a battle that seemed like it would never
come, or at worst, would happen somewhere else, somewhere far away.
Outside, the yard was in chaos. Torches lit the faces of panicked horses, their eyes
rolling white as yelling coachmen tried to force their way to the door to pick up their

“Good night, my lady, and thank you for the dance,” he said with
cool politeness. “Remember, if things go awry tomorrow—”

She didn’t want to think about that. She threw herself into his arms to stop the words,
and kissed him. He caught her, and for a moment he was stiff, his posture indignant, but
she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his, praying he would come back alive.
Then his arms wrapped around her and he kissed her back.
“You will come back,” she whispered, making it a command.
Suddenly it hardly mattered if he admired her or not. She only wanted him to live.

Stephen felt the first bullet punch through his shoulder moments later and knock the
wind from his lungs. The second shot tore a button from his tunic, sent it spinning in the
air before his eyes. The pain was instant, a white-hot light that blurred his vision,

Captain Lord Peter Rothdale (Villain) searched the battlefield, his handkerchief pressed to his
nose against the stench. He had to be sure, had to find Stephen Ives and take the vowel
from his pocket. If Ives survived to make good on his threats, then Peter would be ruined. 

Damn him. He wasn’t dead. Peter would have to finish him, be forced to look into
Ives’s eyes as he killed him. He stuffed the crumpled vowel into his own pocket with a
curse and crept forward. He wrapped his hands around the major’s neck. He felt Ives
tense as he began to squeeze, heard him gasp for air, and he gripped harder, throttling
him. Ives scrabbled weakly at his wrist, leaving a trail of blood and dirt. Rothdale gritted
his teeth. “Die,” he murmured. “Die.”

“Another live one here!” a voice called behind Peter, and he let go, sprang back.
“Water,” Ives croaked.
“Mate of yours, Captain?” the sweating stretcher bearer asked, laying two dirty fingers
on Ives’s neck. “Don’t worry, he’s still alive. We’ll get him back to Brussels to the surgeons.”

Peter’s tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth. Ives cried out in pain as they lifted
him, and then his head lolled as he lost consciousness again. Rothdale could only watch as the stretcher crew picked their way through the dead to the waiting carts.

Peter clenched his bloody fists in frustration. Ives was alive. 
Now whose side was luck on?
 It hardly mattered, since he had a plan. Peter set off for the edge of the battlefield, and headed for headquarters at Waterloo village.

She caught a glimpse of blond hair matted with blood and dirt, and saw the yellow
facings on his tunic. His face was bruised and filthy, and he was almost unrecognizable,
but she knew him.
“Stephen!” She felt all the air rushing out of her lungs with that single word. She
touched his cheek, clambered up into the cart, ran her hands over his limbs, trying to see
where he was hurt.

Blind? The word filled his mind, turned pain to sheer terror. He opened his eyes wide to
prove her wrong, blinked, tried to adjust to the darkness, but he saw nothing. He forced
his hand up to his face, ignoring the agony the movement caused, and rubbed his eyes,
felt the bruises and cuts on his face object. Still the darkness would not clear. He reached
out, trying to touch her, to touch anything, but the air around him was empty.

Then she caught his hand and he squeezed it as if it were life itself. He felt the
embarrassment of hot tears running down the side of his face. “No,” he said. “No.”
“I’m here,” she whispered. “You’re alive.”

Was he? She said it as if he’d won a prize. He stared into the darkness and saw no life
at all.

What would become of him if his sight did not return? In a few weeks, she would return
to London, go back to being an earl’s daughter. She would spend her days visiting, being
visited, playing the piano, going to parties, watching the hands on the clock creep. She
hated the idea. How could she dance and flirt and play when she’d been here, seen this?

She wasn’t that woman any longer.
She kept her eyes on the lamp in the window. There was an alternative.
Stephen needed her, and it was time to grow up.

But what will happen when Stephen is accused of cowardice and theft on battlefield.
Will the young couple be able to slay their demons, overcome their pride, fight for justice and get their happily ever after?


Infused with vivid descriptions and heart-wrenching moments, this story had a way of communicating the emotions of people and the tension filled surroundings. I could feel the change in atmosphere when the war started, the despair loved ones felt when their families were to be separated, the blinding agony of dying, the anxiety of being accepted by your crush and the utter hopelessness of loosing your eyesight. A short war but a million casualties. No country truly winning at the end. I could even understand the villain's motives, driven by a desperation and an unfeeling childhood. But yes, as most romances go, there were instances when I wanted to smack the heroine and beat the hero with a broom again and again till he would overcome his pride, propose to the heroine and actually understand that she really did like him (You are a diplomat for crying out loud and how dare you lie about your eyes!) and for being slightly chauvinistic about the female virginity. But then again, he was undergoing such a stressful period and conflicting emotions can make you a teeny-ity-bit hardheaded.  He does propose in the end, in the cutest possible manner. (See below)
Beautifully done.


“She has refused others before you,” Ainsley said. “Why do you wish to marry my daughter?”
Stephen shifted. “It’s not about money, my lord, or your title, though I’m certain you would be a fine gentleman to be related to by marriage.”
Sebastian stifled a snicker, but Delphine didn’t pinch him. She was staring at Stephen.
“I, that is—”
“Say it,” Nicholas prompted.
“She loves me,” Stephen blurted.
There was more silence.
“I mean, I love her. I love her.”

Copy Courtesy - Edelweiss

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Saturday Discussion: Comfort Reads

The past few weeks have seen a lot of things going on: family member went from sick to really sick to a day in the emergency room to a few days in the hospital to recovering at home and now back to business as usual. Which means lots of stuff to do, disrupted routines, lots of waiting, lots of nerves and not as much sleep as anybody would like. Though the crisis is now past, there's still dust to settle, but thankfully reading is always good medicine, and in the tough times, we still find time to read. It's not selfish, it's not frivolous, and I would argue it's downright necessary for rest and respite.

For a few minutes, hours, even days, we can step through a magic portal into a different world, live other lives, and come back feeling refreshed, restored and ready to tackle the next battle that life has thrown in our general direction. I don't use the term "escape" for such reading, because we do have to return to the issues at  hand when our reading breaks are over, but it is respite, a way to plug into hope and assurance and let our brains relax as the story takes us into another time and place.

Comfort reading is different from regular reading for some, if not most readers. When our minds and bodies are worn out from dealing with the increased stress, finding a new book to read may not always be the most pressing thing on our schedule. Rereads of favorite books or authors often fit the bill. Two of my surefire comfort reads are pictured below: Skye O'Malley, by Bertrice Small and Lovesong, by Valerie Sherwood.

Historicals are my go-to comfort read, books I read and loved many years ago. Not a lot of surprises, but there's a certain reassurance in knowing I'm travelling a road I've travelled many times before and will be sure to revisit again. Big, thick, sweeping romantic adventures in times past are exactly what I need when life gets to be too much.

For others, humor is what counts most, or a trip to an idyllic small town tucked far away from life's troubles. Still others want to visit a universe where the supernatural is the most natural thing in the world, or jump into the ongoing saga of long-running characters who are always going to be okay, despite insurmountable odds. I've even found comfort reading in the dystopian world of The Walking Dead graphic novels, because whatever is going wrong in my life can't possibly be as bad as a world where the undead walk the earth and consider me lunch.

So, dear readers, our question today is, what is a comfort read for you? Is it genre, author, a particular book?  Maybe it's a type of book, whether it's new to you or not. Can a book you've never read before be a comfort read, if it's of the right author, genre or setting? Settle into our virtual couch and sip your beverage of choice and share your favorite comfort reads, because we can all use a break.

Friday, August 8, 2014

Blog Tour: What a Lady Craves by Ashlyn Macnamara (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Release Date: August 12, 2014
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: Random House Loveswept 

What a Lady Craves
The Eton Boys Trilogy #1

Ashlyn Macnamara weaves a delicious tale of two souls torn apart by circumstance and reunited by fate—perfect for fans of Julia Quinn, Eloisa James, and Sabrina Jeffries.

Henrietta Upperton is about to marry Alexander Sanford when he rushes off to India to salvage his family’s fortune. Then comes the devastating news that he has wed another. Eight agonizing years later, a storm washes Alexander ashore—injured, widowed, and hunted—and one glimpse of his ruggedly handsome face reawakens the desire Henrietta thought she had buried deep inside. Her body still yearns for his touch, but she’s determined not let him wound her again . . . not this time.

For Alexander, honor always comes first. But only now does he realize that when given the choice between two virtuous deeds, he picked the wrong one. On the run with his life in tatters and a pair of daughters in tow, Alexander burns for Henrietta. He knows he does not deserve forgiveness. And yet he longs to wrap his arms around her warm body once again. What’s more, he is sure the lady craves the same.
What a Lady Craves
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“Good heavens.” Lady Epperley placed a bony hand to her bosom. “Good heavens. If he’s returned from India, he’s left no word, sent no note. Why, we had no idea.”

“Please, memsahib. He is in a bad way. I cannot drag his body—”

“Body?” Lady Epperley’s doughy cheeks paled beneath their generous layer of rouge. Henrietta suspected her own cheeks had taken on the same ashen tones. Whatever had passed between her and Alexander, she certainly did not wish the man dead.

“Forgive me.” The stranger repeated his reverent bow. “I mean no upset. Our ship, you see, sank in the storm. I saw Mr. Sanford to shore, but the ordeal took too much out of me. I was forced to leave him on the beach.”

It wasn’t her place to speak, but Henrietta could no more hold back than she could stop her heart from beating out of control. “Your pardon, Mr. . . .”


“Mr. Satya—”

“No, simply Satya.”

She clamped her back teeth. If this man could not get to the point, and soon, she might forget her manners and voice her impatience. “Is Mr. Sanford still of this world?”

“Oh, yes, he is quite well, considering the circumstances. He has merely fainted, and—”

“Fainted?” Her pulse slowed, but only somewhat.

“Yes, memsahib. That is why I came for help. I cannot carry his dead weight alone.”

Dead weight. Body. Why did this man insist on such phrasing? Henrietta waved the thoughts away. Surely English was not his native language. He could not know the import of his words.

“Hirsch!” Lady Epperley barked the name, even though the butler had not left the room. “Summon several footmen, and have Mr. Satya show them to my nephew. And tell the housekeeper to prepare his usual chamber. At once!”

“My . . . my lady . . .” Henrietta forced the words past a constriction in her throat. “If you won’t be needing me for the rest of the evening . . .” If she could escape to her quarters, she wouldn’t even have to see him. At the same time, she might hide this blasted agitation from her employer. She’d only have to wonder if he’d changed in the years since she’d bid him Godspeed. Surely India had altered him.

“Nonsense, George.” Lady Epperley heaved herself to her feet, leaning heavily on the arm of the settee for balance. In the process, she overturned Albemarle’s cushion. The cat hit the floor with a dull thud and stalked off, flicking her bushy tail indignantly.

“I shall certainly need you,” the dowager went on. “Good heavens, a shock like this at my age. My own nephew shipwrecked.” For emphasis, she clenched a hand about the fabric of her bodice. “My heart.”

Henrietta wasn’t fooled for an instant. The old woman’s voice was far too strong for her to be experiencing any true malaise. “Yes, my lady.”

In what seemed like no time at all, the footmen returned, easing a limp body up the stairs from the foyer. Lady Epperley still wrung her hands at the front of her gown, as if she thought to keep her heart from breaking free of her chest by mere pressure. Henrietta couldn’t help but watch the processional that trailed a slow drizzle of water on the polished parquet that lined the corridor. Drip, drip, drip, the even cadence of a black-plumed horse at the head of a funeral procession.

Her mind conjured the image of a robust, serious man in the glow of health. Tall, lean, yet his presence overwhelmed. In direct contrast to her memory, the form before her lay inert. The sharp angles of his cheekbones shadowed chalky flesh peppered with light brown stubble. Sodden hair fell in hanks over his forehead, and his garments were shredded beyond repair . . . offering glimpses of skin she’d only ever seen in her dreams.

Henrietta pressed her lips into a line, deliberately tamping down the unexpected—and unwelcome—flutter low in her belly. Her knees wobbled. More inappropriate words jumbled in her mouth and clamored for release. She could not risk her position by giving them voice, no matter how great the temptation. In this state, Lady Epperley had no choice but to take in her nephew; the history between him and Henrietta be damned.

Author Bio

Ashlyn Macnamara is the author of A Most Scandalous Proposal. She lives in the wilds of suburbia outside of Montreal with her husband and two teenage daughters. When not writing, she looks for other excuses to neglect the housework, among them knitting, reading, and wasting time on the Internet in the guise of doing research.

Website  Twitter  Facebook   Goodreads  

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Thursday, August 7, 2014

Blog Tour: Finding Miss McFarland by Vivienne Lorret (Excerpt & Giveaway)

Release Date: August 5, 2014
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: Avon 

Finding Miss McFarland
Wallflower Weddings Book Three

Fans of historical romance authors Lorraine Heath and Sophie Jordan will adore Vivienne Lorret's latest Wallflower Wedding novel. 
Delaney McFarland is on the hunt for a husband—preferably one who needs her embarrassingly large dowry more than a dutiful wife. After the unspeakable incident at her debut, Delaney knows marrying for love is off the table, but a marriage of convenience—one that leaves her free to live the life she chooses—is the next best thing, never mind what that arrogant, devilishly handsome Mr. Croft thinks. Delaney plans to marry for money … or not at all. 
Ever since the fiery redhead burst into his life—in a most memorable way—Griffin Croft hasn't been able to get Miss McFarland out of his mind. Now, with the maddening woman determined to hand over her fortune to a rake, Griffin knows he must step in. He must help her. He must not kiss her. But when Griffin's noble intentions flee in a moment of unexpected passion, his true course becomes clear: tame Delaney's wild heart and save her from a fate worse than death … a life without love.

Finding Miss McFarland
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 “Mr. Croft,” her father said, not bothering to conceal the satisfied grin he wore. “It is my pleasure to introduce you to my eldest daughter, Gillian Delaney McFarland.” 

This was the first time her father had used her full name during an introduction. Normally, he preferred not to be reminded that such a creature was named after him. Yet at the moment, she didn’t bother to question it. She was too distracted by the man across from her. 

Griffin Croft stood an inch taller than her father, with waves of dark hair brushed back from his forehead. In this light, she couldn’t tell if his hair was black or brown, or if his eyes were brown or blue; all she knew was that when their gazes met, she felt a strange crackling sensation beneath her palms. It felt the way she imagined a fire consumed bits of tinder—hot, bright, and skittering over the surface, igniting kindling with dozens of tiny flames. 

And like a flame, her gaze became greedy, consuming every nuance of his face, from his elegantly sloped nose to his wide mouth, and from the deep cleft in his chin to the square jaw and the barest shadow of stubble she saw above a clumsily tied cravat. 

“Miss McFarland.” 

She didn’t hear him at first. There was an odd ringing in her ears. But by looking at his mouth—and a very pleasant one, it was—she could see that he’d spoken. 

Miss McFarland . . . and with those words, his lips pressed together twice. Like a kiss. The idea made her dizzy. 

“Mr. Croft.” 

A wave of heat assailed her. Then, too soon, another terrible grip seized her stomach. Her vision blurred for an instant, and when she looked down, she saw that he held out his gloved hand, as if to steady her.  

Her father’s hand went to her back. “Perhaps it would be best to postpone—” 

He never had a chance to finish. 

And she never had the chance to turn around and take hold of the railing. Instead, her body betrayed her most cruelly and cast up her accounts all over Griffin Croft’s shoes.

Author Bio

I fell in love with fairy tales and the romance behind happily ever after at a very young age. Like a lot of you, I tweaked the fables bit by bit in my imagination until they suited me perfectly. By the time I was eleven, a teacher encouraged me to start writing.

Throughout the years that followed, my teachers remained my most fervent supporters, giving me the tools I needed to continue my journey as a writer.

My husband and I have two teenage boys, who are heroes in their own right. For now, we live in a small Midwestern town near Lake Michigan…until a time in the future when a new adventure calls us to other shores.

I am currently working on my next novel, but I always enjoy hearing from my readers. Feel free to email me at

You can follow this tour here:


Throwback Thursday: Historical Romance Edition #38

Happy Thursday, everyone!  Zeee here from I Heart Romance hosting this weeks' Throwback Thursday:  Historical Romance Edition, a feature started by Buried Under Romance and Love Saves the World

What is Throwback Thursday?
Traditionally, Throwback Thursday celebrates nostalgia, asking participants to post a personal photo or an image from their past -- usually from 5 to 10 years ago. There are a lot of book blogs that also do a book-related Throwback Thursday. 

The Historical Romance Edition:
Since Tin of Love Saves the World and I are unapologetic lovers of historical romances, we've decided to focus on our beloved genre.

Here are our rules:
1. It must be posted on a Thursday.
2. It must be a historical romance novel published before October 3, 2008.

My pick for this week is And Then He Kissed Her by Laura Lee Guhrke, published on February 27, 2007.

Supremely sensible Emmaline Dove wishes to share her etiquette expertise with London's readers, and as secretary to Viscount Marlowe, Emma knows she's in the perfect position to make her dream come true. Marlowe might be a rake with a preference for can-can dancers and an aversion to matrimony, but he is also the city's leading publisher, and Emma is convinced he's her best chance to see her work in print...until she discovers the lying scoundrel has been rejecting her manuscripts without ever reading a single page!

As a publisher, Harry finds reading etiquette books akin to slow, painful torture. Besides, he can't believe his proper secretary has the passion to write anything worth reading. Then she has the nerve to call him a liar, and even resigns without notice, leaving his business in an uproar and his honor in question. Harry decides it's time to teach Miss Dove a few things that aren't proper. But when he kisses her, he discovers that his former secretary has more passion and fire than he'd ever imagined, for one luscious taste of her lips only leaves him hungry for more.

My Thoughts
I think this was the first book by Laura Lee Guhrke that I read and I was hooked!  She has become an autobuy/autoclick author since then.  I love And Then He Kissed Her because not only is it a love "between the classes," the heroine is also an author and an artist, plus there is also the ugly ducking trope.  Who doesn't love that?  

Now, head over to Tin @ Love Saves the World and Ki Pha @ Doing Some Reading for their pick of the week.

Fellow historical romance readers are welcome to join us. Enter your link below so we can visit your TBT: HR Edition post for the week! (Then go here to copy the Link code to your blogs.)

Don't forget to leave some love! mwaaaah*

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Guest Post: Taming Miss Tisdale by Jessica Jefferson (with Excerpt and Giveaway)

We want to welcome Jessica Jefferson to Buried Under Romance, she is sharing her writing process and an excerpt from her latest book with all of us. She also has a giveaway of a $50 Amazon Gift Card  Enjoy!

Jessica Jefferson makes her home in northern Indiana, or as she likes to think of it—almost Chicago.  She is heavily inspired by classic sweeping, historical romance novels, but aims to take those key emotional elements and inject a fresh blend of quick dialogue and comedy.  She invites you to visit her at and read more of her random romance musings.

Author Links

My Writing Process

After majoring in English with hopes of becoming a teacher and writer, I somehow landed myself into the world of nursing. My career path was winding to say the least.

Eventually, I found my strength wasn’t necessarily in the caring for patients, but with the observation and evaluation of healthcare processes. My career took another unexpected turn into a role similar to that of an industrial engineer’s with performance improvement.  I learned to plot out processes using post-it notes and to continually apply the PDCA (plan, do, check, act) cycle to all I do.

Now, I’m a full time writer, and part time performance improvement facilitator. And I’ve been able to apply most everything I’ve learned to my writing process.

I’ve always considered myself to be a spontaneous person. Heck, I was at the Romance Times Convention in New Orleans and without any planning what-so-ever, walked into a tattoo parlor and had my body marked for life on a whim. But I can’t write like that. I need planning- structure.

I’m currently working on my third and fourth books simultaneously, and I couldn’t be more regimented.  I’m a very visual person, and transparency was a common theme throughout my previous day job. I put everything on my wall so that I can always see where it is I’m going in the story.  Characters are represented by post-its and a picture of what I’d think they’d look like. Each chapter is plotted out, a series of post-its stretched across my wall. Specific lines I come up with at three a.m. are jotted down on corresponding post-its and posted in the appropriate location.  Magazine clippings of furniture or colors may also be featured on my wall for inspiration. Research and notes are also posted on the wall.

It doesn’t take very much time, and it usually changes a dozen or so times before the book is written.  But it does help me to feel organized and have some sort of control over this new, crazy career of mine.

 Marc watched the faint outline come across the dense morning fog, becoming more discernible as it approached. The tall, thin figure was riding along at a perilous speed, given the morning’s lack of visibility. He thought perhaps it was some gangly young man misguided in the fog. It wouldn’t be the first time someone accidentally stumbled upon the vast property that made up his family’s immodest estate.

Then the fog parted in an almost biblical manner, revealing his gross inaccuracy.
Were those ... breasts?

Marc closed his eyes and thought for a moment. Typically, women didn’t ride alone at such an hour and they certainly didn’t wander unexpectedly across his property. It’d been quite a while, his last birthday to be exact, since his last intimate encounter with a woman—a gift, compliments of St. Regis—so there was always the possibility that perhaps his half-drunk, sex-starved mind had conjured up the sensual image.

He shook his head, opened his eyes, and looked back again toward the horizon.

Yes, those were most certainly breasts.

And she was most definitely not a young man. The woman’s riding habit pulled taut against her body as she raced toward him. Her hair was blowing behind her—various hues of auburn and gold, like wild flames curling about in the wind. Then a decidedly feminine voice burst through the morning’s silence, interrupting his self-doubt. 

“Oh, thank goodness I found you!”

This was no mirage. She was indeed very real.

And very loud.

Miss Tamsin Tisdale believes herself to be completely unsuitable for London life. After a myriad of social mishaps, and the potential ruination of her family name, she’s shipped away to her cousin’s northern estate. Only after she comes to her senses will she be welcomed home.

Marcus Winston, the Duke of Grayson, has a lackluster reputation. The last in a dying line, he’s endured a protected life—rank with privilege, encumbered by isolation. After a brief encounter with rebellion, he learns the devastating consequences of his carelessness and willingly accepts living life from inside his gilded cage.

However, a chance meeting with the brazen Miss Tisdale gives Marc the opportunity to reinvent himself into the man he’s always dreamed of being. When his deception comes to light, and ghosts from both their pasts threaten to unravel the intimacy they’ve come to cherish, will either of them set their fears aside long enough to embrace love? Or will Miss Tisdale’s stubbornness divide them?

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Thank you Jessica for stopping by and sharing with us!
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August Anticipated Reads in Historical Romance

Each month we will be bringing you the books we are excited to read for that month. 
We hope you enjoy the books and maybe find a new author.

My Beautiful Enemy by Sherry Thomas

August 5, 2014

Goodreads   Amazon    B&N

The Highlander's Bride Trouble by Mary Wine 

August 5, 2014

 Goodreads   Amazon   B & N

The Traitor by Grace Burrowes

August 5, 2014

A Woman Made For Sin (Promises Trilogy, #2)

A Woman Made for Sin by Michele Sinclair

August 5, 2014

Goodreads   Amazon   B & N


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