Book Review and Giveaway for From This Moment by Melanie Harlow

FROM THIS MOMENT

by MELANIE HARLOW

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 it cruelest lesson--love doesn't always win.

If only my heart would believe it.

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REVIEW: 2 Stars

I hate doing this, but I am not going to have a popular opinion on this book. I will break it down, but I feel that I gave this book a fair shake and finished it. If anything, I love forbidden. I love the grittiness of it. The raw emotions that you feel because you are living this story with the characters, following them around trying to make sense of a situation that isn't always accepted. It's my favorite kind of trope, and I gravitate towards it. So naturally, once I heard about a woman falling for her dead husband's brother -- BAM! Yes!! Forbidden, sign me up! Alas....the story did not play out that well for me. I will attempt to explain why.

The writing. It was chaotic and completely disjointed for me. I felt like the story was being told to me, from an outside perspective looking in. I wasn't feeling any emotion or connection with the characters, and that always makes the read rather rough for me. It also felt like it was written in parts, and then pieced together, making for a choppy read. Extra words, timeline sequence issues, completely wrong words (skin instead of sink), etc., these all added to my frustration. Granted, I got an ARC and in that I know that I will always get some errors. It's a guarantee, and I am ok with that and it never affects my rating. But timelines issues should always be fleshed out before they go out to early readers/bloggers. 

The way this story was told was a little aggravating for me. For every action/drama sequence, a few paragraphs of questions and dragging monologue would follow. Like, can you just TELL the story instead of asking 20 questions? I didn't understand this process or why we were subjected to it throughout the entire story. It didn't make any sense to me. I like an emotional, well thought out story that takes me on a journey through a love that may not always seem easy. Progression, dialogue, action....suspense even. This one was written with an emotional disconnection, side characters with serious immaturity, and an action/question format that irritated me beyond belief. Don't ask me, please just tell me. 

The characters. 

Abby (daughter) was the cutest little bug, and I don't generally like kids in stories that play an integral part. 

Margot and Georgia/Pete and Jack (coworkers/friends) were so supportive and had such a good vibe to them. I really liked meeting them and how well they helped Hannah and Wes with their dilemma. They also gave Hannah an amazing job and I loved that it allowed her creative side to come out; it was good for her. These were my favorite characters in the book after Wes. NOTE TO MENTION, this is a secondary character's story so this book may spoil some of After We Fall. 

Hannah has NO backbone....not one. I can handle a sad/upset/distraught woman trying to pull herself out of the depths of despair after having lost her amazing husband that loved her unconditionally, and having some reservations about how she is doing raising her child. However, we had a worry-wart that had ZERO self confidence in anything having to do with LIFE and that made reading her character a drag. She questioned every breath she took...and that was really hard to empathize with, for me. I hate saying that because I know that if I were in her shoes, I can imagine I would be having a really hard time with life as well. But maybe the complete disconnect I felt in the writing contributed to my lack of emotion and understanding in that aspect. 

Wes was the best part about the story. He had a good head on his shoulders, and some very valid points. "Fuck what everyone thinks." YES!! Yes, that's it, Wes. That's exactly what you need to stick to and go with it. But again, for the love of all things holy, stop.questioning.every.single.thing.

Lenore (mother to Wes) was THE WORST mother in law ever. I know they have a bad name, and some deservedly so, but Lenore set the bar really high for emotionally abusive, overbearing, sticking-her-nose-where-it-didn't-belong mothering. Like, so over the top, I was rolling my eyes the entire time we were in her shoes while she bemoaned Wes and Hannah's relationship. It was horrible. I honestly hated her.

Dr. Parks/Doc is the reason Wes is so well adjusted. Lucky son. The ability to insert words of wisdom while maintaining a neutral zone for his wife was not a task taken lightly, I can imagine. And how in God's name did he stay married to Lenore for 40 years?? That man should be knighted for sainthood. 

Timeline issues: 

--> How was it 18 months that he has been gone, but she lost her husband when her daughter was 3....yet, she turned six in the story and they had only been hanging out a few weeks by that point?

--> They had sex, and A WEEK HAD LAPSED, yet he was going to talk to her about what happened LAST NIGHT (referring to the sex they had). That isn't really possible. From Labor Day (Monday) to Saturday night, getting drunk with his friends. It's not last night. It can't be.

--> We switched from her Wine with Widows Wednesday night where she was talking with Tess, to it being later in the week....but we switched without any break or informational segue helping us move along in the story. It was a really odd transition. I was quite confused how it all went, and I read and re-read it a few times, hoping it was supposed to be a flashback, but nothing indicated it was at all.

--> She was ON THE PHONE with Margot, but she turned around to 'look at her'? I'm not sure how that is possible.

--> And yet another abrupt transition from being ON the phone with Margot to it being days later. No goodbye, no hanging up the phone, nothing.....just life carried on. Again, it makes me feel that this book was pieced together.

--> Last but not least, she "picked up her water and touched it to Drew's champagne as the room erupted....". Uh, she was clinking Wes' glass. Not Drew, because he died. Remember?

After these instances, it was clear that I needed to stop paying close attention to the timeline on how things played out and just enjoy the story, because I was driving myself mad trying to put it all together and make sense of it. I also wonder about the use of beta readers and an editor. 

Overall:

I will, however, admit that the story itself was a good story. I liked the forbidden aspect of it and I liked the reality of the problems they could face in a small town full of gossip mongers. I get it, and that was one part I liked. I even enjoyed the seeming insta-love that many don't enjoy. I have always enjoyed those kinds of love stories with a good buildup, and 49% in, I sighed when these two characters were able to come together (pun intended). Hannah and Wes worked SO well together and I liked his backstory about his feelings for her. Sadly, this one had more bad than good for me. Would I recommend it? If you can look past the timeline issues, overlook weak characters, and enjoy immature drama coming from the mother/-in law, then I will easily recommend it. Otherwise....I feel that she didn't articulate this one well, and it fell short for me on most counts. I will be gifting a copy out still, because underneath it all, it was a good story.

~BEE

PURCHASE:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2xXSCMe

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2uEqBpG

iBooks: http://apple.co/2vjYJcj

B&N: http://bit.ly/2vqcLtd

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~MEET MELANIE HARLOW~

Melanie Harlow writes sexy, emotional romance about strong, stubborn characters who can’t help falling in love. She’s addicted to bacon, gin martinis, and summer reading on the screened-in porch. If she’s not buried in a book or binging on Netflix, you might find her running, putting a bun in someone’s hair, or driving to and from the dance studio. She lives outside Detroit with her husband and two daughters. 

Melanie is the USA Today bestselling author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, MAN CANDY, AFTER WE FALL, IF YOU WERE MINE, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s.

~CONNECT WITH MELANIE~

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ARC REVIEW

EXCERPT for EXP1RE by Erin Noelle

PROLOGUE

Lyra

10.18.02

The intercom crackles loudly throughout the classroom, interrupting Ms. Sherman’s rather uninspiring Friday afternoon lesson on the life cycle of a star. Even though most of the students around me are furiously jotting down notes about nebulas, red giants, and supernovas, I’m half listening while I doodle caricatures of me and my friends in the margin of my notebook. It’s not that I’m not interested in the material she’s talking about. No, that’s not the case at all. It’s quite the opposite actually; science is my favorite subject, especially anything that deals with astronomy and the unknowns in our universe.

But with a dad who is a super-smart astronomer at Johnson Space Center—or NASA, as most people here in Houston call it—I learned about this stuff she’s teaching before I ever started kindergarten. Heck, just this past summer before fifth grade, Mama and I went to visit him at a planetarium in Hawaii, where he was part of a team that discovered eleven new moons orbiting Jupiter! If I don’t ace this test next week, I better not even go home. I definitely wouldn’t be able to be an astronaut then. 

“Ms. Sherman, can you please have Lyra Jennings gather her things and come down to the office? She’s leaving for the day,” the office lady who reminds me of Paula Deen—Mama’s favorite chef—announces through the ancient intercom system.

At the sound of my name, my chin jerks upward from my pencil sketches to the standard black-and-white classroom clock mounted above the projection screen. The hands read 12:45 p.m., nearly three hours before the end of the school day, when my parents are supposed to pick me up as we head out to Dallas for the weekend to celebrate my eleventh birthday. Ooh, maybe getting out of school early was my surprise they mentioned!

I’ve been looking forward to this day since we came home from this same trip last year, and I know my parents planned something special for this year. Every birthday, instead of having one of those silly kids’ parties with pointy hats and piñatas, they take me to the Texas State Fair. There, we spend the weekend riding as many rides as possible, stuffing our mouths with sausage-on-a-stick and fried Twinkies, playing games until we win the biggest of the stuffed animals, and laughing until our faces hurt and happy tears stream down our cheeks. Hands down, it’s my favorite three days of the year, even better than Christmas. And I really, really like Christmas.

Excitement jets through me as I stand up from my desk and hurriedly cram my spiral notebook and textbook into my purple paisley backpack. If we make it there early, I’ll be able to go swimming at the fancy hotel’s indoor pool before dinner.

“Sure thing,” my teacher calls out in response. “She’ll be right down.”

Hoisting the strap of the bag up on my shoulder, I turn to leave the room and my gaze meets Ms. Sherman’s. Her warmth shines in her bright amber-colored eyes, highlighting the numbers 051123 that I see imprinted in her pupils. The same six white numbers I see every time we make eye contact. The numbers I’m not allowed to talk about. The ones everyone thinks are all a part of my healthy imagination.

But they’re wrong. They’re all wrong.

The numbers are real, and they never change or go away. I only wish I knew what they meant. Mama and Daddy—who, by the way, are the only two people I know that have the same numbers—call it my special superpower, but I know they just pretend to believe me. I see the looks they share when they think I’m not watching. They don’t want me to think about all those things the doctors say about me. I may only be ten years old, but I’m 100% sure I’m not crazy, nor do I lie for attention. I’m an only child, for Pete’s sake; my parents are overly interested in my life. Though I do appreciate their support, even if they don’t understand.

“Have a nice weekend, Lyra. Don’t forget we have a test over CHAPTERs six through eight on Monday. Make sure you’ve read all the material,” she reminds me.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be ready,” I reply modestly, not sharing with her or the rest of the class I’ve already read through CHAPTER thirteen in the text, including answering the study guide questions at the end of each section. I may be an overachiever, but I’m not a brown-noser.

Luckily, school just comes easy for me, and my parents get over-Jupiter’s-moons proud when I bring home straight A’s on my report card. It reassures them that I’m normal and well adjusted. At least that’s what I heard Mama whispering to Daddy on the phone one night when she thought I wasn’t listening.

I mouth a quick goodbye to my best friend, Beth, who I pass by as I scuttle toward the exit. With her last name being Blackmon and mine being Jennings, we rarely get to sit near each other, as most of our teachers put us in alphabetical order. Beth’s numbers are 022754, and like Ms. Sherman’s, they light up vibrantly when she looks up at me and mouths the words Have fun before I slip out the door.

I never want to break the rules or get in trouble, so I somehow fight the urge to sprint down the deserted hallway and force myself to walk as fast as my long, skinny legs will let me. The swishing sound from my denim shorts rubbing together fills my ears, creating a soundtrack for my excitement. My cheeks ache from smiling so big while I drop off my folders and books in my locker then make a beeline to the front of the school, where my parents are waiting for me. This is going to be the best of the best weekends ever, one that none of us will ever forget. I just know it.

Only, when I swing open the glass door to the main office, expecting to see my favorite two people in the world, I’m surprised to find my Aunt Kathy standing there, her face puffy and pink, the corners of her mouth pointing due south. Our eyes meet, and I can barely see her numbers—123148—because of how swollen the lids are around them.

The fluffy white cloud of elation I floated in on disappears instantly as a dark fog of dread takes its place. Engulfing me. Swallowing me whole. She doesn’t have to say a word—I already know. Not how or when or where it happened, but deep in my bones, I know.

I was right. This will definitely be a weekend I’ll never forget, only it will be for reasons I’ll never want to remember.

“I’m so sorry, Lyra baby girl,” she cries. “I’m so sorry. They’re… they’re gone.” 

gone.

Gone.

GONE.

The word bounces around between my ears, getting louder each time it echoes. The first time, it freezes my movements. The second steals all the air from my lungs. By the third time, I’m pretty sure I have no pulse. I want to go, too.

Go.

Going.

GONE.

With my feet stuck to the floor and my body stiff as a statue, Aunt Kathy rushes over to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Pulling me up against her chest as uncontainable sobs shake her body, she breaks down in front of the receptionist and attendance clerk, neither of who bother to hide their open staring. Numb, I stand completely still while she wails for several minutes, and I never once make a single sound or try to break free from the death grip she has on me. My thoughts race so fast they’re standing still.

I’m just… here. And my parents just… aren’t. And they won’t ever be again.

They’re… gone.

Climbing into the passenger seat of Aunt Kathy’s fancy sports car—a car I usually beg to ride in because there’s no backseat—I fasten my safety belt and then close my eyes as I lean my head back on the black leather, warm from the hot southern Texas sun. Even though it’s mid-October, I’m still wearing shorts and sandals, and just last weekend I went swimming at Beth’s house. But as I sit here and wait for my aunt to start the car, my teeth chatter loudly and my entire body trembles uncontrollably. My heart is frozen solid, but I’ve yet to shed a tear.

The phone rings and I jump, automatically looking at the caller ID on the screen, thinking… hoping… praying it’s someone calling to let us know this has all been a big mistake, that my parents are really okay.

“Hey, Mom,” Aunt Kathy answers after just one ring. We still haven’t pulled out of the parking space. “Yeah, I have her now. She’s safe and sound.”

My heart plummets even lower into my stomach than it was before as she pauses to listen to Granny Gina on the other end. Granny Gina is my dad and Kathy’s mom who lives in New Orleans, where she moved about five years ago after my grandpa passed away from lung cancer. Since my mom’s parents both died before I was born, she’s the only living grandparent I have, and luckily for me, she’s a pretty awesome one. But today, nothing is awesome. Not even close.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t said a word. I’m sure she’s in shock.” My aunt talks about me like I’m not sitting right here, as I finally feel the car jerk back in reverse.

Another pause. The car lurches forward into drive then we bounce hard as Aunt Kathy flies over a speed bump. I think I’m going to throw up.

“Okay, I’ll take her home so she can pack a suitcase of whatever she wants to bring, and then we’ll go to my place until you get here. You should be in about 5:00?”

Pack a suitcase of what I want to bring where? Where am I going? Why is this happening to me? I’m a good kid. I make good grades and I’m nice to people, even those people who everyone else makes fun of, and I listen to my parents and my teachers. What did I do to deserve this? Why me?

“Yeah, Mom, I know,” Aunt Kathy hiccups. She’s crying hard again. “I’ll take good care of her, and we’ll see you later. I love you.”

I keep my eyes screwed shut as she disconnects the call, scared she’ll want to talk if I open them. I don’t want to talk to her or Granny Gina or anyone but my parents. I want my mom and dad!

Thankfully, Aunt Kathy doesn’t try to talk to me as we drive, but when I feel the car come to a stop and hear the engine turn off, she gently taps my arm. “Lyra, sweetheart, we’re at your house. We’re going to go inside, and I need you to pack up a suitcase or two of the clothes and things you want to take to New Orleans. Whatever you need.”

“New Orleans?” My lids snap open and I whip my chin in her direction. I don’t even recognize my harsh, scratchy voice. “I’m going to New Orleans?”

“Yeah”—she nods sadly as she swipes at the black mascara streaks on her face with her thumbs—“with Granny Gina. After we take care of, uh, of everything here, you’ll go live with her there.”

Scowling, I cross my arms over my chest and grunt. “I don’t want to leave Houston, or my friends, or my school. Why can’t I stay here with you?”

“You know I travel with my job, Lyra. Sometimes I’m gone a week or two at a time, and there won’t be anybody here to stay with you. Granny Gina’s house has an extra bedroom, and since she doesn’t work, she’ll be able to better give you everything you need.”

What I need and will be better for me is my mom and dad. And my perfect birthday weekend at the fair.

She reaches out to attempt to soothe me with her touch, but I wrench away, banging my elbow on the car door in the process. The whack is loud, and the place I hit immediately turns red, but my brain doesn’t register the pain. I feel nothing. I’m broken.

I glance over at my aunt, and the tears spilling down her cheeks make me feel bad for acting the way I just did to her. What happened to my parents isn’t her fault, but I’m angry and this is all moving too fast. How am I supposed to pack up what I need in a couple of bags? I want to stay in my room, in my house, living with my parents.

“I know this is all unfair, baby,” she says through her sniffles, “and I can’t even to begin to understand what you’re thinking or feeling. I mean, I’m freaking the hell out and I’m a grownup who’s supposed to know how to handle these kinds of situations. All we can do is cling to each other as family and try to get through this together. Between me and Granny, we’ll do the best we can for you, and right now, we think the best thing is if you get your things and go stay with her.”

“How did they die?” I blurt out, completely off topic from what she’s talking about. My mind can’t stay focused on any one thing, but this is the question that keeps popping up. “I need to know how it happened.”

Swallowing hard, Aunt Kathy inhales a shaky breath through her nose and blows it out through her mouth, visibly trying to collect herself before she answers me. “It was a car accident,” she whispers after forever, barely loud enough for me to hear. “I don’t know why they were together in your mom’s car this morning or where they were going, but an eighteen-wheeler lost control and hit them. They were already gone by the time the first responders arrived.”

I nod, still unable to cry. I hear the words she’s saying, but they aren’t really registering. They make sense, but I don’t understand. It’s as if I’ve been swallowed up by one of the black holes Daddy taught me about and the darkness is sucking away my ability to think, to feel. All I hear is the word “gone” still replaying over and over and over.

“Okay. I’ll get my stuff,” I say flatly, finally opening the door and stepping out of the car.

My movements are robotic, and I can barely even feel the key in my hand as I unlock the front door to my house. Stepping inside, I’m overwhelmed by a combination of the sweet smell of my mom’s favorite vanilla cookie candle and the sight of my dad’s fuzzy slippers waiting by the coatrack—the slippers he puts on the minute he walks in the door from work every night. When I realize he’ll never wear those slippers again, nor will my mom ever be able to forget if she blew out the candle when we’re about to pull out of the driveway, an acute pain shoots through my chest and I stumble over to the staircase, grabbing the banister to keep my balance.

“I’m right here, Lyra,” Aunt Kathy murmurs from behind me as she slips her arm around my waist. “Let’s just get your things and head over to my place. Later, once we’ve had some time to deal with everything, we can come back to go through the house and all the stuff… if you want.”

Another nod and I let her guide me up the stairs to my room. I want to scream at her that there will never be enough time to deal with losing my parents, that I’ll never be able to go through their things, but I keep my lips pressed together and do as I’m told.

“Where do you guys keep your suitcases?” she asks, glancing around my room as if she’s doing an inventory of what I have. “I’ll go grab a couple while you start pulling out what you want to take. If you forget something, it’s no big deal, because you and Granny are going to be staying at my place for the next few days. I can just bring you back to get it, or I can even ship it to Louisiana if you remember once you’re there.”

“They’re in the storage cabinets in the garage,” I answer while walking over to my desk, my eyes locked in on a framed photo of me and my parents that sits next to my laptop.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

The thud of her heels on the hardwood floor grows quiet as she makes her way back down to the first floor, and just as I grab the picture and plop down on the chair, I hear her open the door to the garage. A few much-needed minutes by myself.

I gaze down at the photograph of the three of us from a day at the beach, me sandwiched between their cheerful, carefree expressions, and the first tear finally escapes. Once the dam breaks, I can’t stop the flow, and as I trace my finger over the outline of each of my parents’ faces, I cry for everything I’ll never have again. A supernova of tears.

Faces I’ll never see smile again.

Voices I’ll never hear say my name again.

Arms I’ll never be hugged by again.

A never-ending galaxy of love that I’ll never feel again.

It’s all just… gone.

After several minutes of vision-blurring bawling, I set the picture frame back upright on my desk. A hot pink heart drawn on my calendar with the words Birthday Weekend Begins written over today’s box catches my attention. I then notice the printed numbers next to my bubbly handwriting that read 10-18-02.

Snatching the picture up again, I stare directly into first my dad’s eyes, and then my mom’s. The numbers I see when I look people directly in the eyes only happens when I’m face-to-face with someone, never in photographs or through a screen or mirror. But even though I can’t actually see the numbers right now in the picture of my parents’ pupils, their numbers are forever etched in my brain from looking at them every day of my life. I used to think the reason they had the same numbers meant they were true soul mates, like God made them to match perfectly together, but now….

My gaze flicks over to today’s date of 10-18-02, then back to my parents’ faces, where I envision their numbers—101802.

My plummeting heart collides with my lurching stomach in an explosion of realization.

It’s my Big Bang Moment.

ADD TO GOODREADS

EXP1RE

by ERIN NOELLE

Numbers. 

They haunt me. I can't look into a person's eyes without seeing the six-digit date of their death.

I’m helpless to change it, no matter how hard I try. 

I’ve trained myself to look down. Away. Anywhere but at their eyes.

My camera is my escape. My salvation. Through its lens, I see only beauty and life—not death and despair. 

Disconnected from all those around me, I’m content being alone, simply existing.

Until I meet him.
Tavian.
The man beyond the numbers. 

How can I stay away, when everything about him draws me in?

But how can I fall in love, knowing exactly when it will expire?

◆     ◆     ◆     ◆     ◆     ◆

~MEET ERIN NOELLE~

Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband and two young daughters. While earning her degree in History, she rediscovered her love for reading that was first instilled by her grandmother when she was a young child. A lover of happily-ever-afters, both historical and current, Erin is an avid reader of all romance novels. In 2013, she published the Book Boyfriend Series, which included books Metamorphosis, Ambrosia, and Euphoria. Her books have been a part of the USA Today Bestselling list and/ or the Amazon and Barnes & Noble overall Top 100.

~CONNECT WITH ERIN~

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ARC review

Check out Erin's books HERE.

Excerpt for This Time is Different by Mae Wood

EXCERPT

“Mr. Popov! I thought the appointment was for five,” I said, closing the door to my SUV after spotting him in the parking lot. He was leaning against his car and tapping on a phone, and his face was still a wreck.

“Yeah, it is. I wanted to beat traffic, so I’ve been taking some calls from your parking lot,” he replied, sliding the phone into his suit pants pocket. Silver hair, light blue dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, showcasing his muscular forearms. Someone plays a lot of softball.

“Okay, well, Jana should be here soon and then I can take a quick peek and you’ll be on your way.”

“No rush. And please, call me Thomas,” he said.

“Only if you’ll call me Amy.”

“Nice to meet you, Amy.”

He extended his hand, a friendly smile lighting up his face. The bruise was healing nicely, but the impact point was still purple with a large halo of yellow. It was mainly obscured by his salt and pepper scruff. I didn’t blame him for not shaving. Except for his lip, the skin hadn’t broken. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t any less tender from the trauma. In fact, I was impressed that he was able to smile through the ache.

“And you, Thomas,” I replied, hoisting my purse up my shoulder and clasping his hand. I expected a couple of quick businesslike pumps. What I got was different. His hand was big and warm and soft, making me feel delicate, but before I could process what was different, before I could categorize it into neat little bullet points—

“I’m here already. Just noticed you. Y’all are early,” called Jana from the office’s bright red front door.

As I pulled my head out of the clouds, where I’d just begun to wonder how soft the rest of his skin was, I started to withdraw my hand. But not before he gave a little squeeze. 

Was that a wink?

“Amy, real quick.”

“Yeah?”

“Will you have dinner with me? I’ve got a table at Brooklyn Bridge at six thirty. And I hear good things about the lobster ravioli and tiramisu.”

The heat that had been building in me quickly cooled. I hated pity dates. I hated when my friends shoved men into my path and hoped for the best. The only one ever truly happy was the friend doing the shoving. And I’d had enough pity from men to last my lifetime. Being alone was better than being pitied.

“Did Diana ask you to do this?” I inquired, narrowing my eyes at him, trying to discern his true intention behind his offer of my favorite meal.

“No. Though she told me what restaurant. So, that’s a yes?”

She didn’t con him into asking me out? It just didn’t make sense. Men didn’t ask me out because they wanted to. Men asked me out because they were obligated to. “That’s a—”

“Yes. Let that be a yes,” he said, another gentle squeeze on my hand that I thought I’d pulled away. Maybe he honestly did want to go on a date with me.

“And tiramisu?” I asked, testing the waters with my toe.

“Of course. And whatever else you want.”

A smile tickled at the corners of my mouth. Was he propositioning me? God, really? Me, mother of a seventeen-year- old being propositioned?

“They have a nice wine selection,” I said, wading further into the waters to see whether his eyes fell—a clear sign that Diana had pushed him into taking me out—or whether they lit up because he wanted to have dinner with me. In the three years since I’d started going on occasional dates, I hadn’t seen much light.

“There you go. We’ll have wine.” And there was light in his gray blue eyes. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” My head spun. He was asking me on a date because he wanted to. Not because someone had pressured him into it. Or that he felt like he had to take me out. I honestly wasn’t sure if that had ever happened to me before. And I meant ever.

“Thanks for taking pity on an old man.”

“Oh, hush your mouth,” I said, letting go of his hand, resettling my purse on my shoulder and turning toward the office. “Let’s see if you’re ready to eat that lobster ravioli.”

As I checked his teeth and gums and lips for healing, I got caught up in his eyes. Thick dark lashes rimmed the soft gray blue.

“Whaaa?” he asked, around my fingers, and I remembered where I was—paused with my hands in my patient-turned- date’s mouth. Blue gloves, yoga pants, a lightweight hoodie over a blue tank top, and whatever random pile I swept my hair up into for my post-Pilates shower at the gym. Yeah, no fairy godmothers here. But at least I’d taken that shower.

“Looks good, Mr. Popov. I mean, Thomas,” I said, swiveling on the stool, stripping of the blue gloves and tossing them in the bin. “The lip looks good. Your gums are healing nicely and the teeth have firmed up. No discoloration or signs of stress. You got lucky.”

He pushed up from the exam chair, swinging his legs to the floor. “I did,” he said, looking at me square in the face.

Am I blushing? My cheeks felt warm. Is it warm in here? Is this perimenopause? Is this a hot flash? Because I hadn’t had a period in nearly two decades and was sneaking up on forty, every time I unexpectedly got warm, I wondered if I was entering menopause.

But I quickly realized that it wasn’t a life change. It was the big, handsome, and very forward man in my office. I didn’t know what to do because he clearly wasn’t talking about his softball accident. I spun around and typed a few notes into his record so that

Diana could pull them up on Monday. I logged out of the computer, but not before taking a quick peek at the birthdate at the header of his profile. He was fourteen years and two months older than me to the day. May eleventh. He’d just turned fifty-three.

“Okay, you guys, let’s hit it. Thanks for coming in, Jana. I really appreciate it,” I said.

“Happy to, Dr. Forsythe. I’m going to go lock up,” said Jana, leaving the two of us alone.

“Am I cleared to eat?” he asked, standing up and offering his hand to me.

“Absolutely. As long as there’s no pain. Pasta would be a good starting food on the injured side.”

I placed my hand in his and it happened again. The warmth. The electricity. The parking lot wasn’t a fluke.

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THIS TIME IS DIFFERENT

by MAE WOOD

Life can change in a flash.
Marriage and a baby wasn’t Amy Forsythe’s college plan. After a shotgun marriage glued together by her son, she’s convinced that love isn’t meant for her. Now nearing forty and single for the first time since her senior prom, her friends are pushing her to date. Her teenager isn’t thrilled by the idea and neither is Amy.

Silver fox Thomas Popov isn’t looking for The One. He found her decades ago. And fell apart when she died. At fifty-three with a new job, a new city, and an empty nest, he’s focused on climbing the corporate ladder.

When a softball accident lands Thomas in Amy’s dental chair, sparks fly.

Lightning doesn’t strike twice. But love might.

This time is different.

THIS IS LIVE!!

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~MEET MAE WOOD~

Mae Wood is a mommy, bookworm, and lawyer (in that order).

A while ago Mae decided that she needed to give up the fear that she couldn't write "great literature" and write what she wants to read.

And she wants romance. And laughter.

She wants heroines who are brave. Brave enough to be themselves and brave enough to fall in love.

She wants men who are strong and kind.

Mae lives in the Southeastern United States.

~CONNECT WITH MAE~

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Book Review and Giveaway for Unloved by Katy Regnery

UNLOVED
by KATY REGNERY

My name is Cassidy Porter...

My father, Paul Isaac Porter, was executed twenty years ago for the brutal murder of twelve innocent girls.

Though I was only eight-years-old at the time, I am aware - every day of my life - that I am his child, his only son.

To protect the world from the poison in my veins, I live a quiet life, off the grid, away from humanity.

I promised myself, and my mother, not to infect innocent lives with the darkness that swirls within me, waiting to make itself known.

It's a promise I would have kept...if Brynn Cadogan hadn't stumbled into my life.

Now I exist between heaven and hell: falling for a woman who wants to love me, while all along reminding myself that I must remain...

Unloved.

ADD TO GOODREADS

REVIEW: 4 STARS

"There is no me without you."

MAN......I love when Katy dishes up some sweetness, mixes in some curiosity, and adds a slice of desire. I have always said it: Katy does innocence THE BEST. She really does. This one was no different. Despite the cover and the synopsis, this book was just as sweet as her other books. But let me back up here and state that as much as I thought this was a DARK read, it really wasn't. It starts off with a very harsh dose of reality, given recent events. and one other rough patch, but other than that, it is a very sweet read. 

Two very different characters from very different worlds collide in the most intriguing way....one in which you could never imagine. I *loved* Cass with all his innocence. Literally, the most "untouched" soul out there, but he had a cloud over him. However misplaced, it was one that set the course for his entire life. As for Brynn, she was caught up in a storm that stripped her of her happiness, and she was barely surviving her every day life. An epiphany, a discovery, a hike, and an unfortunate meeting bring these two together. 

Upon meeting, you instantly have this beautiful relationship building with unbridled curiosity. Katy guides us in a story that requires we suspend belief on many things. She is SO good at that. We get caught up in such a loving story, we just accept it and fall in love. Their love, it was organic. It was birthed among the trees of Katahdin, nurtured within the walls of his cabin, and grew with a natural ambience of social solitude. There was such a separation from reality and all the modern day conveniences; all the distractions from actually living a crazy life. We were stripped of all access to outside, modern day life and brought inside the very simple world of a reclusive young man that has no experience to glean from, and watching something so natural blossom between them was awesome. I loved that aspect of this story. However, having said that, I found myself questioning why things were the way they were; how things were actually possible. I honestly hated my personal struggle between suspending so much belief and shaking my head, because I can easily do it with her stories. The beauty of her words carries me through her storylines generally, so this one slowed me down a bit. Overall, I loved their yearning, searching, and their undeniable pull towards each other. 

I did struggle at something that was otherwise a beautiful, Katy-Made story: at times, it felt wordy. We got a lot of info that, while it was pertinent to the story, made for a very long winded read at times. At other times, it flowed wonderfully and I felt caught up in their bubble of discovery out in the middle of nowhere. But please understand, it was still a very good book. I fell hard for their quick looks, their innocent flirting, and their curiosity that drove their desires. Brynn may have known love, but Cass was just discovering it for the first time, and I loved that side of the story. Being removed from society at such a young age, I loved the honest to gosh innocence on different levels. It wasn't just love/sexual innocence, but also worldly innocence. I really connected to that and the fact that he still had a boys mentality in some aspects. Growing up IN a society allows your mind to grow, as well as your vocabulary. Once removed....things you said when you were younger, they kinda stick around. It provided some giggles for me in this one. 

I would recommend that you avoid SPOILERS at all costs because there is a twist that someone posted and I saw and it suuuucked seeing it. Thankfully I needed to find out the HOW behind this twist, so I continued reading. AND the epilogue was all sorts of perfection. Perfect ending to a love that needed to be written. 

"I want to look at her every minute she's in my presence. Drinking her in is quickly becoming an addiction." 

~BEE

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~MEET KATY REGNERY~

Katy Regnery, award-winning and Amazon bestselling author, started her writing career by enrolling in a short story class in January 2012. One year later, she signed her first contract for a winter romance entitled By Proxy. 

Now exclusively self-published, Katy claims authorship of the multi-titled Blueberry Lane Series which follows the English, Winslow, Rousseau, Story and Ambler families of Philadelphia, the four-book, bestselling a modern fairytale series, the standalone novel, Playing for Love at Deep Haven and a standalone novella, Frosted. 

Katy’s first modern fairytale romance, The Vixen and the Vet, was nominated for a RITA® in 2015, and four of her books: The Vixen and the Vet (a modern fairytale), Never Let You Go (a modern fairytale), Falling for Fitz(The English Brothers #2) and By Proxy (Heart of Montana #1) have been #1 genre bestsellers on Amazon. 

Katy lives in the relative wilds of northern Fairfield County, Connecticut, where her writing room looks out at the woods, and her husband, two young children, and two dogs create just enough cheerful chaos to remind her that the very best love stories begin at home.

~CONNECT WITH KATY~

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ARC REVIEW

EXCERPT for From This Moment by Melanie Harlow

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.

But he didn’t say anything more, just sipped his wine and looked out at the horizon. I was grateful.

“What about you?” I asked. “Think maybe you’ll get married now that you’re back? Have a family? Abby won’t have any siblings so she needs some cousins.”

“That seems to be a popular topic of discussion around here,” Wes said, shaking his head, “but I really have no idea.”

“Small town. We like to know everyone’s business.” I smiled. “Hey, what about CB? I saw your initials carved with hers on the door of the shed. Maybe she’s still around.”

He groaned. “Is that still there? Jesus. That had to be twenty years ago.”

Hugging my knees, I leaned forward. “First love?”

“Not even.” He hesitated, as if he were trying to decide whether to confess something.

“Come on,” I cajoled, carefully reaching out of the canoe, and splashing water toward him. “Tell me. I’ve been spilling my guts for an hour.”

“First kiss.”

I squealed. “And?”

He cringed. “It’s too embarrassing.”

“Wes, I had a completely humiliating breakdown in front of you last night. I got snot on my arm.”

“This is worse.”

“Get it out. You’ll feel better.”

“Let’s just say it was a very awkward, very fast experience.”

I gasped. “You lost your virginity to her?”

“No. Just my dignity.”

Laughing, I tilted my head back and felt the sun on my face, the wind in my hair, and something like joy in my heart.

It had been a long time.

ADD TO GOODREADS

FROM THIS MOMENT

by MELANIE HARLOW

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 it cruelest lesson--love doesn't always win.

If only my heart would believe it.

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Amazon US: http://amzn.to/2xXSCMe

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2uEqBpG

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~MEET MELANIE HARLOW~

Melanie Harlow writes sexy, emotional romance about strong, stubborn characters who can’t help falling in love. She’s addicted to bacon, gin martinis, and summer reading on the screened-in porch. If she’s not buried in a book or binging on Netflix, you might find her running, putting a bun in someone’s hair, or driving to and from the dance studio. She lives outside Detroit with her husband and two daughters. 

Melanie is the USA Today bestselling author of the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, MAN CANDY, AFTER WE FALL, IF YOU WERE MINE, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s.

~CONNECT WITH MELANIE~

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