When a stalker gets too close to plus-size model Mae Cooper, it’s time to hire some muscle.

Closer, an all-new standalone novella in the fan favorite Stage Dive Series from New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott and 1001 Dark Nights, is available now!

Enter former military man turned executive protection officer Ziggy Thayer. Having spent years guarding billionaires, royalty, and rock n roll greats, he’s seen it all. From lavish parties through to every kind of excess.

There’s no reason some Instagram stylista should throw him off his game. Even if she does have the most dangerous curves he’s ever seen...

**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**

Title: Closer
Author: Kylie Scott
Series: 1001 Dark Nights
Pages: 107
Genre(s): Contemporary, US, Romantic Suspense
Hot Buttons: n/a


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I very much enjoyed the last (which also happened to be the first) Kylie Scott book that I read (Lies, if you’re interested!) and have previously enjoyed the 1001 Dark Nights series so this book sounded like a good bet. And it definitely was.

Despite having read previous 1001 Dark Nights books, this was the first one where I’ve read (or even noticed) the prologue explaining the Arabian Nights theme and the tale of Scheherazade as she desperately attempts to entertain her husband, the King of Persia, with nightly stories so that he will postpone her execution. I admit to being a little confused by this. It bore no relation to the story and there seemed to be little point to including it. But confusion over - onto the story!

This was a short, novella book and it’s great for a couple of nights’ bedtime reading. While it’s part of Ms Scott’s Stage Dive series (which focuses on a super famous and successful rock band), it stands completely alone. I haven’t read any of these novels previously and never found myself lost. For those who have read the series, I can imagine you’ll delight in seeing the couples again and finding out small snippets of where their lives have come.

I enjoyed Mae - our plus-sized model. Even more than that, I loved that ‘plus-size’ was simply a description of what type of model she was. It didn’t define her. In fact, other than referring to her gorgeous curves, Ms Scott never went down the expected (by me, I’ll admit) route of having her hung-up about her body, have her be slightly self-conscious or anxious about her sexuality. Major plus points. She did waffle on in her slightly ditzy internal dialogue every now and then which did make my head spin - but all in all, I liked her.

Ziggy was the hot, silent bodyguard who couldn’t quite mask his reaction to Mae. I loved seeing him lose his cool and how hot he was for Mae. But Ziggy? Ziggy? Urgh what a name. I finally got the rock reference (when it was explained to me about halfway through the book!) but by then I had the weedy, annoying guy from Big Brother UK in my head and little could be done to get rid of that mental image, sadly. Just not a name that conjured sexy man vibes for me.

There was just enough suspense to make for an interesting storyline along with the romance. It’s just enough for a self-proclaimed scaredy cat like me. And we get a satisfying conclusion to all elements of the story so another plus point.

We had the expected sexy shenanigans and I’ll admit I was a little disappointed that they had an enlightened chat before getting on down. Yeah, yeah - talking is good in real life - but in my novels I sometimes just want ‘shove each other up against a wall’ type of stuff. But the fact that there were sexy times of any sort is another plus for this book.

All in all, I enjoyed this tale immensely. Ms Scott has a fun and readable way of writing a story that I very much enjoy. A quick and satisfying tale. 4 stars.

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AUTHOR BIO!

 

Kylie is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013, 2014 & 2018, by the Australian Romance Writer’s Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages. She is a long time fan of romance, rock music, and B-grade horror films.

Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet.

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EXCERPT! 

“Your keys and security alarm code please, miss?” he asked, hand held out waiting.

It might have just been me, but we seemed to be standing awfully close together. It almost seemed weirdly intimate. Almost. No, my bad. Ziggy wore his usual professional façade with nary a hint of emotion on display. His gaze was shuttered, his bearing military rigid. It was definitely just me and my overactive imagination. Being vaguely attracted to your bodyguard was kind of a pain in the ass. Not that I couldn’t use the distraction right now.

Ziggy continued to stand there patiently waiting.

“Keys. Right.” I rummaged inside my Balenciaga City bag. Designer goodies were not only a weakness of mine, but a happy perk of being in the industry and achieving some small fame. “Ah, just a minute. They’re in here somewhere.”

I pushed aside my purse, a cashmere shawl, tampons, a candy bar, some loose change, my small Chanel cosmetics case, a power bank, hair ties, pepper spray, a copy of the latest Sarah MacLean book, mints, a spare charging cable for my cell phone, the cell phone itself, Chapstick, Prada sunglasses case, my grandma’s rosary, dental floss, deodorant, a couple of pens, Kleenex, ear buds, water bottle, a USB stick, reusable straw, condoms, nail file, some old receipts, a travel size umbrella, hand sanitizer, lotion, a pair of pearl earrings, tweezers, Advil, a hair band, and some bobby pins.

“Sorry about this,” I murmured. “I know I put them in here when we left.”

He said nothing. A whole lot of nothing.

“Huh.” With a great sense of victory, I held up a bottle of nail polish. “I thought I’d lost this.”

One of his dark brows crept upwards.

“I’ll have you know this color was limited edition. Little Death at Midnight by Oxley. You can’t buy it anymore.”

His lips did not move, but that damn eyebrow arched even higher as he leaned forward a little and took in the contents of my bag. I swear his eyes widened.

“Don’t you judge me. All of these things are necessary for my ongoing existence.”

“Of course they are, miss.” The man was so judging me. Bastard. “You carry a koozie around with you, I see.”

“It pays to be ready to party, Mr. Thayer.”

 

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All Suzanne St. Michelle wants is an over-the-top, eggnog-induced holiday with her best friend in Credence, Colorado. But when her hoity-toity parents insist she come home for Christmas in New York, she blurts out that her sexy landlord is actually her boyfriend and she can’t leave him—Joshy loves Christmas. The more twinkle lights the better.

Rancher Joshua Grady does not love Christmas. Or company, or chatty women. Unfortunately for him, the chattiest woman ever has rented the cottage on his ranch, invited her rich, art-scene parents, and now insists he play “fake rancher boyfriend” in a production of the Hokiest Christmas Ever. And somehow…she gets him to agree.

Apparently, he’ll do anything to get his quiet life back. At least there’s mistletoe every two feet—and kissing Suzy is surprisingly easy. But in the midst of acres of tinsel, far too many tacky Christmas sweaters, and a tree that can be seen from space, he’s starting to want what he lost when he was a kid—a family. Too bad it’s with a woman heading back to New York before the ball drops…

Title: The Trouble with Christmas
Author: Amy Andrews
Series: Credence Colorado Book 2
Pages: 400
Genre(s): Contemporary, US, Christmas
Hot Buttons: divorce of parents, grief, death of parents (when character was a child) <-- highlight to reveal (may contain spoilers)

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No-one combines the feels and the funny quite like Amy Andrews; as such she’s fast becoming one of my favourite authors.

And then she wrote a Christmas book.

This is the second book in the Credence, Colorado series. While the couple from the first book (CC and Wade from Nothing But Trouble) are mentioned in this one, they don’t make an appearance themselves. Although many of the townsfolk are back again - along with all their crazy ways! You definitely don’t need to have read the first book to read this one although it’s such a good book I would obviously suggest that you do!

From their first meeting, Suzanne and Grady light sparks off each other. At first it’s annoyance and anger. Then lust-fueled anger. Then just lust. And then the whole damn place ignites! The pair have a chemistry that’s so exciting to read. Normally I find I favour one character over another in a pairing, and want my favourite to “win” while falling in love. I wanted them both to “win” as they were just so darn perfect for each other - and they needed each other to make the other whole!

There was something so relatable about Suzanne. She was successful, sophisticated and worldly - yet she was missing something in her life. It was heartbreaking in its own way. She was honest about her feelings and emotions and just an all round nice person. I loved her.

Joshua Grady is my jam. Ovaries exploding all over the place! He’s a strong, silent rancher with a little bit of boy sass about him in that he’s so damn grumpy. Mmm hmm hmm. But with all that surliness comes a past that is so tragic that it explains him and his behaviours. While we learn about the long-past incident and see how it's affected Grady - Ms Andrews’ never goes too deep so as to drag the book down. But still deep enough to make an impact.

And I have to mention the funny in this book. But can’t do that without first mentioning the writing itself. It’s so flawlessly effortless (which probably takes mountains of work and effort!) and the writing just flows. You almost forget you’re reading as you’re sucked into Credence and this snowy wonderland. That’s why the humour works so well as it just appears in the book organically. Meaning you’re just as often surprised by a big laugh as you are at finding a whole scene amusing or just plain hilarious! The paintings, the penis cookies, the wrecking ball decorations. It was awesome!

Christmas threw up in this book for sure - and that’s exactly what Suzy wanted. She goes full-on ridiculous with her Christmas theme and that just added a special touch to the book - not least because I myself love a tacky Christmas!

Along with the sparks comes a full dose of sexy between Grady and Suzy. Yum! And during a blizzard? Slow clap for Christmas effect!

This was a really fun book with a dose of the feels and a huge dump of Christmas cheer. It’s exactly what I’ve come to expect from Ms Andrews and cannot wait for this wonderful series to continue. 5 stars and Christmas lover or not, I would highly recommend this book.

* I received this book from the publisher/author in exchange for an honest review. *

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AUTHOR BIO!

 

Amy is an Aussie author of hot contemporary romance who believes in multiple orgasms, mighty wangs and happily ever afters. She’s been penning them for over twenty years and has 70+ books to her name.

As well as unforgettable characters and great sex you’ll also be treated to some laughs and a dollop of quirk because Amy doesn’t seem to know how to write a book without a bit of both. You might also cry a little because there’s nothing she loves more than a laughy-criey book!

She also loves sunsets and rainbows, unicorns and mermaids, booze and travel. And her home that overlooks the ocean. She may also happen to believe she was a Roman goddess in her past life because it's the only thing that explains her adoration for all things Italy.

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EXCERPT!

Grady barely felt the chill as he stripped off his freezing, sodden shirt in the equally freezing concrete shell of the mudroom. The silence was distracting. Too distracting, and he could think of little else. The last three mornings, he’d gone about his chores serenaded by chanting monks. Which was strange but…whatever. It didn’t bother him or the animals, and it gave his ranch hands something to laugh about.

Except now there was no music. And that was bothering him, because he suddenly realized he was thinking about her—something he’d been trying not to do. Had her power gone out? Was she sick? Had she fallen in the cottage and smacked her head on the stone floor? Had some kind of seizure? Was she unconscious? Had she decided to up and leave?

Yeah, right…he should be so lucky.

Grady shook his head, growling to himself as he flicked off the running faucet and plunged his hands into the steaming-hot sink of water, washing off the caked-on muck from his hands and arms and chest courtesy of a calf that had gotten itself bogged in a freezing quagmire caused by recent rain and melting almost-frozen ground.

He’d managed to rope it out with the help of two of his hands, its plaintive mooing and the distress of its mother keeping everyone focused on the job but somehow, when they were almost there, he’d managed to lose his balance and fall into the frigid mud.

His hands had laughed their asses off as they’d dragged his out of the muck.

The hot water felt good on his chilled skin as he picked up the cake of soap and lathered his arms and chest and neck. He needed a real shower, of course, but he’d learned a long time ago to wash up before he went inside. The plumbing in the mudroom was way more forgiving than the more delicate pipes inside the cabin.

Thankfully his jeans weren’t as mucky. Ordinarily he’d have stripped them off in the mudroom, too, and walked from the barn to the cabin in his underwear—isolated living did have its advantages—but he wasn’t about to do that with Suzanne St. Michelle nearby.

And great…just great. He was thinking about her again.

He obviously wasn’t getting laid enough. Just how long had it been since he’d been with a woman? Well over a year ago. Probably closer to two. Because that had to be it, that had to be the reason he couldn’t stop thinking about the curvy New Yorker even though she’d stayed on her turf exactly as he had demanded.

Reaching with one hand for the fresh towel that hung over the hook above the sink, he pulled the plug with the other, then proceeded to towel dry. At least up until he heard a faint gasp and spun around to find the woman on his mind standing just inside the doorway, her curves hidden in a huge red coat, that green knitted cap pulled down low over her forehead and ears.

His hands paused mid drying the back of his neck. The room wasn’t big, maybe five feet by five feet, which meant she was way closer to him than he was comfortable with, given his state of undress.

“Oh…I’m…sorry.” Her breath misted into the frigid air as her voice faltered. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

Her eyes fell to his chest, zeroed in on the nickel-size scar just beneath his right collarbone courtesy of some shrapnel, before straying to his pecs and abs for what seemed like forever, the awkward silence stretching. Normally Grady wouldn’t bother filling it because silences were where he felt most comfortable and the other person generally rushed in to fill them up. But Suzanne wasn’t bothering, either.

At least not with her mouth anyway.

Her eyes were a different story. They were having an entire conversation as they roved all over his chest. She was looking at him like he was a slice of one of Annie’s pies, and Christ if that wasn’t like a bullet straight to his dick. The kind of friendly fire he could do without.

Fucking hell. He didn’t want to be pie. Not this woman’s. Not any woman’s. He wanted to be…tofu. Nobody lusted after tofu.

“Had some trouble with a calf.” Grady felt like an explanation might help the situation, but he still felt like an idiot making small talk.

“Was it being born?” She pulled her gaze from his abs to his eyes. “Did you have to stick your hand up inside and drag it out? I saw that on a documentary once and couldn’t believe how messy it was. And how calm the mother was. I mean, I’m not sure I’d be okay to just stand there while someone stuck their entire arm up my hoo-ha, right?”

She hesitated for a moment like she’d done the first day they’d met, like she wasn’t sure this was a topic for polite conversation. But her mouth had already committed, so she jutted her chin and went for it.

“I know it has to be done and, let’s face it, a calf is much bigger than a man’s arm—”

Her gaze dropped to his arms via the scar, his chest, and his belly button. She was looking at him like pie again. Annie’s pecan pie with melted butter. Sweet and savory all at once. An orgasm for the tongue.

Not tofu. Plain, tasteless, orgasmless Tofu.

“Even yours,” she continued, forcing her gaze back to his face, and it took Grady a moment to pick up the thread of her ramblings. She shuddered. “But no thank you. I mean, seriously, females of all species really do get a raw deal. I bet you if the males had to push out disproportionately bigger babies through the passage provided for the process, they’d have invented some kind of handy zipper system a long time ago. Some dude would have patented the bejesus out of it.”

She stopped abruptly, snapping her lips closed as if her mouth had finally received the frantic shut the fuck up messages from her brain. Her cheeks looked pink, but then so did her nose, so it was probably just the nippy December weather.

Grady stared at her, not only at the amount of words she’d spoken but at the content of her monologue. “We…” He spoke because it felt like his turn, but he didn’t even know what to do about cows with zippers. “We don’t calve in winter.”

“Oh, right.” She nodded briskly, her cheeks definitely growing pinker now. “That makes sense. Who wants to be cold and in pain, right?”

She gave a funny little half smile that ended quickly and awkwardly. Then they just stood and stared at each other for several beats longer than was normal or even comfortable, their warm breaths misting into the air.

Tucking her hands into the pockets of her red coat, she said, “I hope it’s okay to have a look around?”

Grady gave a brief, terse nod. “Just don’t go too far or go near the animals.” Last thing he needed was to rescue some damn fool city slicker who’d wandered off and gotten herself lost.

She nodded absently as her gaze drifted again, licking over his chest, lingering on the scar. He should be freezing, half-naked in a room that was little more than an icebox, but with her looking at him like she was trying to commit every line and chest hair to memory, he only felt hot.

Really fucking hot. Melted butter on pecan pie hot.

“I hope—” Her voice sounded a little uneven, and she cleared her throat. “I hope my music hasn’t been disturbing you the last few days.”

He wasn’t sure why she was making small talk—although it was preferable to incessant observations about cow hoo-has and zippers. Nor was he sure why he was standing ramrod straight in front of her, thinking about pie when he should be grabbing the spare shirt he kept in the cupboard above the washbasin and getting decent.

But up had been down since the moment she’d arrived.

“It’s fine,” he dismissed. It hadn’t been the music that had been disturbing him, that was for sure.

She nodded again, glancing around the room briefly before settling her eyes back on his chest. “Well…I guess I’ll…” She didn’t finish the sentence as her gaze once again zeroed in on the scar, and her lips rolled together in contemplation. “Do you mind—?” She stepped forward and raised her hand tentatively.

When he didn’t move because he was paralyzed by the realization she was actually going to touch him, she became bolder, stepping in closer again as her fingers made contact. She was so close now, he could smell her. Coffee and snickerdoodles? And something sharp, maybe chemical. Paint, he supposed.

“Is it a bullet wound?”

Grady flinched as she touched the scar, her fingers like icicles as they sunk into the small indentation. He closed his eyes as heat bloomed from the center, spreading like a ripple, burning like a furnace down the length of his body.

Blood pulsed hard and thick, everywhere. Damn it, she might as well be wrapping that cold hand around the throbbing hardness pressing into the zipper of his fly. It was probably forty degrees in this concrete box, but it felt like a sauna, and it was an easy 120 inside his boxers.

He swallowed. “It’s from…shrapnel.”

He had no idea why he wasn’t stepping back. He should step back. He should have said, Yes, I do mind, told her it was none of her business. He should be finding a shirt.
Find a fucking shirt, idiot.

“Did it hurt?”

Surprised by the question, he glanced down to find the bulky knit of her hat a whisker away from brushing the underside of his chin. “Like a bastard.”

She looked up and they were close—her mouth was close—her fingers a balm to the old wound that still made his shoulder ache on cold winter mornings. His heart thumped like a jungle drum and god almighty, it was hot enough in here to grow bananas.

“Was it bad? Did you bleed a lot?”

His throat was dry as the concrete beneath his feet. “It bled some.” Then, finally getting his shit together, he took a step back, and her hand slid away.
          
If his distancing bothered her, she didn’t show it, just simply said, “Thank you for your service.”

Grady didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say to this standard platitude. He appreciated the sentiment, but he’d just been doing his job. So he nodded, his pulse reverberating like a dinner gong in his ears, as she slowly backed out of the room and disappeared from sight.
          
Reaching for the sink, Grady gripped the curved edge in both his hands and hunched over, dropping his head down between his shoulder blades and taking some deep steadying breaths.

January could not come soon enough.

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What do a wrong number text, a burning building, and a quirky florist have in common?
A hunky firefighter with an extra-large…hosepipe.

In hindsight, I never should have opened that text message. The last thing I needed first thing on a Monday was a picture of some stranger’s, um, eggplant, in my inbox.

I also should have replaced the batteries in my fire alarm, because my Friday night did not need to end with my apartment building going up in flames.

But it’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

I’m only lying in a hospital bed with more split ends than I’ve ever had, almost all my Earthly possessions have turned to ash, and apparently, they don’t serve wine to patients in this place.

But like I said, it’s fine.

Until he walks in.

The guy who saved my life. My hero. Noah Jacobs.

And the universe is amusing itself at my expense, because the dirty photo I woke up to on Monday?

It’s his.

Title: Kiss Me Tonight
Author: Emma Hart
Series: Kiss Me Series
Pages: 176
Genre(s): Contemporary, US, romcom, romantic comedy
Hot Buttons: /

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Emma Hart has become a staple author of mine - and a definite auto-buy. This book does nothing but place her higher on that pedestal.

This is the second book in the Kiss Me series. If you’ve not read the first in the series - Kiss Me Not - then you might be a tad confused with the references to the friends, family and racoons that we met in that book - but this book definitely does stand alone. But once you start with this book, you definitely won’t want to stop.

I really enjoyed Kiss Me Not. But this book knocked my socks off. I just bloody loved it.

It's the story of Reagan and Noah - and the unbelievably hilarious and bizarre set of circumstances that lead to their meeting and ultimately falling in love. It starts off with a, well, rather suggestive image sent to a wrong number that happens to be Reagan's number. I was sceptical about whether I would be happy with a hero that sent such an image to a woman (suspecting or not!) - but our poor Noah was just drunk, lonely and horny so of course I forgave him. And it didn’t hurt that he’s a six-foot plus, built fireman with tatted arms for days, a rescue chihuahua (shout out to the panty stealing Poosh!) and that he’s a gentleman and a sweetheart. With a naughty side too, of course. Well, I suppose we could see that from the pic! *fans self*

Reagan is the kind of girl I wish I was. She’s sassy, sarcastic and barrels right through life and doesn’t let anything stand in her way or get her down. I loved her. The fact that Noah had her a little flustered and a little discombobulated made it clear that the couple were made for each other. They were a delight with each other - laughing and teasing in a way that showed they really understood each other. The fact that I was laughing out loud along with them was just the icing on the cake.

This story didn’t follow the typical pattern of there being some large conflict to overcome on the way to the happily ever after. Instead, it’s more of a story of how they met, how they became friends, how they became more than friends and then how they fell in love. Not having any large stumbling block to their happily ever after didn’t take anything away from the story and it was a book I found myself constantly reaching for and wanting to read more. Even now I’ve finished it, I want to keep reading - I loved these character so much!

As always, Ms Hart writes a funny, sassy, hilarious romance that’s bound to leave you with a smile on your face. Up next is Kiss Me Again which will focus on Ava and Ethan. I can't wait to get back to this group of friends. These gals are #friendshipgoals - and add in their hunky men and it’s even better. The fact that I’m getting a love story to boot and I’m a happy reader! 5 massive stars for this one - I loved it.

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AUTHOR BIO!

 

Emma Hart is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels and has been translated into several different languages.
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She is a mother, wife, lover of wine, Pink Goddess, and valiant rescuer of wild baby hedgehogs.
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Emma prides herself on her realistic, snarky smut, with comebacks that would make a PMS-ing teenage girl proud.
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Yes, really. She's that sarcastic.

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