26 February 2025

The Warrior’s Bride Alliance Warrior Wolves #3 by Denise Lynn Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #WarriorWolves #TheWarriorsBrideAlliance @AuthorDLynn @authordeniselynn1

The Roul brothers are King David's Warrior Wolves - 

each finds their (true love/mate) with a little push from the king...

The Warrior’s Bride Alliance

Warrior Wolves #3

by Denise Lynn

Genre

 Medieval Historical Romance 

The Warrior’s Bride Alliance (Warrior Wolves #3) - Excerpt

Chapter One

Rockskill Keep, Scotland—spring 1146

‘I have need of a husband.’

Rory of Roul shook his head to clear the thick fog muddling his mind and making his head pound. Where was he? He tried desperately to dredge up his last memory, but failed. Was it fog clouding his memory, or was it smoke from the fires set after the battle to lay waste to the land? Land now covered by dead bodies. Bodies not of men, but of smooth-faced boys who’d only recently sparred with wooden swords in mock battles. His stomach rolled at the horrors he’d committed.

No. The battle was over. Without his liege’s permission or knowledge, he’d gathered his men and left. He was no longer in Normandy. He’d run like a traitorous dog with his tail between his legs back to King David begging for a mission—a wolf’s mission—any mission.

He shook his head again. Slowly clearing the murkiness of his mind. He and two of his men had been heading for Rockskill Keep on the King’s orders. Rory jerked his head back, only to wince at the contact with the stone wall behind him. She needed a what?

The bite of iron manacles securing his wrists and ankles to the cold wall at his naked back kept him from laughing at her statement. Why was there a woman on the battlefield? He blinked, then stared at the woman standing before him, not on a field of battle, but in a dimly lit cell, and asked, ‘Where are my men?’

‘They are secure.’

‘Secure?’

‘In a better state than you.’ She shrugged, adding, ‘For now.’

She stepped closer. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. ‘You worry about your men for naught. You should be concerned for your own well-being.’

He snorted. His well-being had been forfeited the moment he’d deserted his post and walked off the battlefield. The penalty for desertion—treason—would be death. The best he could hope for was that his liege the Count of Roul—his brother Elrik—would use a sharp blade and make it a quick, clean end. ‘Where am I?’

‘Rockskill Keep.’

At least he’d arrived at the location of his mission for King David. ‘I demand an audience with the Lord of this Keep.’

‘That would be impossible, as he is dead.’

A piece of information King David either didn’t know or had forgot to mention when he sent him here to bring the shipwrecks, smuggling, murders and other happenings at Rockskill to heel. ‘Then who is in charge here?’

‘I am.’

‘And you are?’

‘The Lady of Rockskill.’

Rory wrenched hard against the restraints, angry at the knowledge that he was at this vixen’s mercy. He pulled harder on the chains, his chest nearly hitting her nose.

She didn’t move, didn’t as much as flinch, simply looked up at him, warning, ‘If you harm me, you will die. But if you hurt yourself, I will send in the midwife. Trust me when I say you will not like her attention. She enjoys making her charges cry.’

He ignored her threat to send a woman’s healer instead of a surgeon to attend him. The slanted tilt of her lips and arching of her brows let him know she’d insulted him on purpose. And while he highly doubted a woman could make him cry, he was in no position to test that theory.

She reached out, stopping just before her palm touched his chest. Her hand was so close that a breeze would not have passed between them. He looked down, wondering if her touch would burn, and suddenly was grateful that he only lacked clothing from the waist up.

The woman paused, frowning. As if uncertain of her next move. Rory lifted a brow. If he didn’t know better, he would guess this woman had never been alone with a man before. Yet she had just claimed her husband had died.

He watched the play of emotions cross her face as she stared at his chest, as if the sight was unfamiliar. Her curiosity while studying his shoulders, chest, then stomach blinked to hesitancy before she quickly flashed her gaze back up. But the raising of her finely arched brows and the slight widening of those blue eyes silently spoke of interest.

She jerked her hand away, produced a dagger from behind her back and held the tip towards the tie of his braies. ‘It would be an easy thing to strip you completely. Perhaps I should see if the rest of you will suffice as husband material.’

Was she that witless, or truly that bold? 

Rory doubted if she’d be bold enough to do so, but he had no desire to discover the answer, at least not while chained to a wall. ‘Do you know who I am?’

She tucked the dagger back behind her. ‘You are Rory of Roul, the youngest of King David’s wolves.’

She knew who he was and yet still saw fit to capture him? He frowned, unable to remember how this had happened.

Denise Lynn returns to Harlequin Historical with an explosive medieval marriage-of-convenience story! 


She needs a husband… 

So she captures one! 

Lady Gillian of Rockskill desperately needs a husband—one strong and wealthy enough to protect her castle. So she has warrior Rory of Roul captured and blackmails him into marrying her! 

Awaking in a dungeon to a marriage proposal, Rory stuns his beguiling captor with a counteroffer: to free his men and complete his mission for the king, he agrees to a temporary chaste marriage. One that can be annulled when his quest is over.  

But despite their stormy beginning, their attraction grows, and so does the temptation to claim their wedding night!

From Harlequin Historical: Your romantic escape to the past.

The Warrior’s Runaway Wife

Warrior Wolves #2

The Warrior’s Runaway Wife (Warrior Wolves #2) - Excerpt

Prologue

Carlisle Castle—April 1145

The large double doors of the Great Hall groaned open, slowing the fever-pitched conversations to a hushed whispering. Lord Elrik of Roul strode through the open doors, bringing even the whispers to a complete halt.

Rain from the spring storm fell in rivulets from the wolf pelts trimming his full-length mantle. The cape swirled, sending droplets of rainwater to the floor in his wake.

Men and women alike made way, clearing the path ahead of his long strides. The clinking of his linked-mail hauberk and spurs, along with the heavy fall of his footsteps, were the only sounds echoing in the hall.

The visitors to King David’s court stared in fascination at the sight of the fabled man before them. Some were young enough to have grown up hearing stories of the King’s Wolves. They’d trembled at the tales told in the dark of night, wondering how much truth lay behind the words, yet not wanting to discover the answer for themselves.

From the unkempt, overlong hair, black as night and shot through with silver, to his frowning countenance, the furrowed brow resembling a dark outcrop over his greenish-gold eyes, to the beard covering his lower face, hiding his features, leaving only the thin line of his tightly held mouth visible, made them wonder if he was indeed part-wolf. A barely civilised, not quite human warrior who would think nothing of unleashing the terrors of hell on an unsuspecting prey.

Elrik dropped to a knee at the bottom of the raised dais and bowed his head. He knew what these people thought of him, these weak-kneed courtiers who had rarely, if ever, used the sword belted to their side for anything more than show, and he cared not. As the Lord of Roul, he did what he needed to do to keep his lands and his family safe.

Being one of David’s Wolves wasn’t easy, but then he’d never been blessed with a life of ease, so why would this be any different? The one saving grace was that his three brothers made up the rest of his wolf pack and he could trust them with his life.

King David stood. ‘Roul, join me.’

Elrik rose and followed the King into the smaller chamber beyond the dais. Once the door closed behind the two of them they were afforded a privacy not available in the Great Hall.

‘Thank you for coming so quickly.’ David poured two goblets of deep red wine and offered one to Elrik, before settling into a chair.

He accepted the liquid, hoping it would thaw his blood. ‘My liege?’

‘I apologise for taking you from the comfort of your fires, but I’ve a need for your particular skill.’

‘Who do you need found?’ He’d been born with an uncanny ability to track down things lost, whether it be a missing shoe or a person not wishing to be found.

‘Avelyn of Brandr.’

Elrik paused before swallowing his wine. In the space of one heartbeat, it all came flooding back. His father had sought to commit treason against King David at the prompting of Galdon, Lord of Brandr Isle. Brandr, named so because of the long, sharp, pointed rocks that stuck out from the northern end of the isle like ready swords, drawn for attack, wasn’t enough land for Galdon. Whether the traitor had acted of his own accord or at the behest of his uncle by marriage and liege, Lord Somerled, the Lord of Argyll, or his maternal grandfather Óláfr, the King of the Isles, was never discovered since Brandr had used his connections to escape punishment. Unlike Elrik’s father.

To save his father’s life, he and his younger brother Gregor had thrown themselves at King David’s feet, begging for mercy. Their plea had been heard and mercy granted—at the cost of nothing more than their souls.

While their father had been confined to Roul Isle, he and Gregor, along with their two younger brothers, when they’d become old enough, had become King David’s Wolves. Men tasked with deeds that required secrecy and, at times, the steadfast ruthlessness of a wolf.

He swallowed, then said, ‘I wasn’t aware Brandr had a daughter.’

‘A natural-born daughter.’

The notorious Lord of Roul…

…must take her as his bride!

Lady Avelyn flees an unwanted betrothal to an elderly warlord only to be hunted down and returned to King David’s court by fearsome Elrik, Lord of Roul, a legendary warrior with a heart of ice—and a kiss of fire. And now Avelyn is bound to Elrik—and his bed—when Elrik is commanded to wed her instead!

“Another sensual, action packed tale” RT Book Reviews on At the Warrior’s Mercy

“Lynn has real talent” — RT Book Reviews on Dragon’s Promise

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At the Warrior’s Mercy

Warrior Wolves #1

In twelfth-century Scotland, a woman is trapped into marriage with a warrior—by order of the king!

Deceived and alone, Beatrice of Warehaven is forced to flee—straight into the powerful arms of feared warrior Gregor of Roul. He escorts her home, though not before a kiss ignites true passion between them.

If Gregor is to gain his freedom, he must obey one last royal order—overthrow Warehaven and marry Beatrice. His betrayal will earn Beatrice’s hatred, but Gregor is prepared to go into battle with this stubborn beauty—and finish what he started with his innocent bride!

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 At the Warrior’s Mercy (Warrior Wolves #1) ~

ExcerptCarlisle Castle—April 1145

The large double doors of the Great Hall groaned open, slowing the fever-pitched conversations to a hushed whispering. Lord Elrik of Roul strode through the open doors, bringing even the whispers to a complete halt.

Rain from the spring storm fell in rivulets from the wolf pelts trimming his full-length mantle. The cape swirled, sending droplets of rainwater to the floor in his wake. Men and women alike made way, clearing the path ahead of his long strides. The clinking of his linked-mail hauberk and spurs, along with the heavy fall of his footsteps, were the only sounds echoing in the hall. The visitors to King David’s court stared in fascination at the sight of the fabled man before them. Some were young enough to have grown up hearing stories of the King’s Wolves. They’d trembled at the tales told in the dark of night, wondering how much truth lay behind the words, yet not wanting to discover the answer for themselves. From the unkempt, overlong hair, black as night and shot through with silver, to his frowning countenance, the furrowed brow resembling a dark outcrop over his greenish-gold eyes, to the beard covering his lower face, hiding his features, leaving only the thin line of his tightly held mouth visible, made them wonder if he was indeed part-wolf. A barely civilised, not quite human warrior who would think nothing of unleashing the terrors of hell on an unsuspecting pre Elrik dropped to a knee at the bottom of the raised dais and bowed his head. He knew what these people thought of him, these weak-kneed courtiers who had rarely, if ever, used the sword belted to their side for anything more than show, and he cared not. As the Lord of Roul, he did what he needed to do to keep his lands and his family safe. Being one of David’s Wolves wasn’t easy, but then he’d never been blessed with a life of ease, so why would this be any different? The one saving grace was that his three brothers made up the rest of his wolf pack and he could trust them with his life. King David stood. ‘Roul, join me.’ Elrik rose and followed the King into the smaller chamber beyond the dais. Once the door closed behind the two of them, they were afforded a privacy not available in the Great Hall. 'Thank you for coming so quickly.’ David poured two goblets of deep red wine and offered one to Elrik, before settling into a chair. He accepted the liquid, hoping it would thaw his blood. ‘My liege?’ ‘I apologise for taking you from the comfort of your fires, but I’ve a need for your particular skill.’ ‘Who do you need found?’ He’d been born with an uncanny ability to track down things lost, whether it be a missing shoe or a person not wishing to be found. ‘Avelyn of Brandr.’ Elrik paused before swallowing his wine. In the space of one heartbeat, it all came flooding back. His father had sought to commit treason against King David at the prompting of Galdon, Lord of Brandr Isle. Brandr, named so because of the long, sharp, pointed rocks that stuck out from the northern end of the isle like ready swords, drawn for attack, wasn’t enough land for Galdon. Whether the traitor had acted of his own accord or at the behest of his uncle by marriage and liege, Lord Somerled, the Lord of Argyll, or his maternal grandfather Óláfr, the King of the Isles, was never discovered since Brandr had used his connections to escape punishment. Unlike Elrik’s father. To save his father’s life, he and his younger brother Gregor had thrown themselves at King David’s feet, begging for mercy. Their plea had been heard and mercy granted—at the cost of nothing more than their souls. While their father had been confined to Roul Isle, he and Gregor, along with their two younger brothers, when they’d become old enough, had become King David’s Wolves. Men tasked with deeds that required secrecy and, at times, the steadfast ruthlessness of a wolf He swallowed, then said, ‘I wasn’t aware Brandr had a daughter.’ ‘A natural-born daughter.It has come to our attention that Warehaven has been left too long without a lord.’ Gregor, second son of Roul Isle’s former lord, held the questions hopping around on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he focused on the sound of workers fortifying Carlisle Castle, making it bigger and stronger. Hopefully, sooner or later, King David would get to the point of this discussion before the ceaseless drone of construction drove him mad with impatience—Gregor had been too long away from his own building project, and the sounds of hammering and sawing made his hands itch to wield an adze or axe. Either tool would suit him fine since he’d rather be shaping or cutting lumber than standing here in the King’s court.

King David’s frowning countenance during his prolonged hesitation gave Gregor the sinking feeling that not only would it be a while before he could return to his half-built ship, but that this time he wasn’t going to like the task about to be placed on his shoulders.

Not that his liking would matter in the least. After nearly ten years he was still paying for his father’s sins in attacking the foreigner who had been given control over some mainland property just south of Roul Isle. Gregor failed to understand why his father had never been able to accept the fact that the King’s word was law, or why it mattered who held the mainland property. His father had been lucky to die an old man at home in his own bed instead of in a less pleasant manner for treason.

However, Gregor and his brothers hadn’t been quite as lucky. They’d found themselves paying the price for their father’s actions. Even now, his older brother Elrik, the current Lord of Roul, was off on some secret mission for the King. For the moment both Edan and Rory, his younger brothers, were at home. None of them had a choice in the matter. The alternative had been to hand over Roul Isle and leave Scotland for good. Since the only place they could go would be to Roul Keep, an unknown cousin’s fortress in Normandy, all four had agreed that leaving wasn’t a desirable option and had placed their lives in King David’s hands.

‘It was also brought to our attention that you’ve somehow reached your twenty-eighth year of life without a wife.’ King David paused to stare at him before adding in a less accusing tone, ‘Lad, a wedding ceremony which ends in death does not count as a marriage.’

Again Gregor held his tongue. What could he say? Everyone knew what had happened that day. A marriage arranged by the King had come to a bloody end mere moments after the new bride had discovered to whom she’d been wed.

Gregor had had so many hopes for the marriage. While he’d been warned that it wouldn’t curtail his service for King David, it would have provided him a welcome respite between the tasks. He’d been certain that, given time, he and Sarah would come to care for each other, create a home and a family together. He had envisioned cold winter nights spent in front of the fire, his wife at his side, while their children played at their feet.

He had looked forward to this marriage, never imagining how wrong he’d been. The day had started filled with hope and whispered promises of dreams soon to be fulfilled. It had ended moments after one of the guests had congratulated the Wolf for having snared a mate.

In that single heartbeat, time had slowed and he’d watched as his new bride’s eyes had widened, all colour leaving her face as if she’d been drained of blood. He’d reached for her, his fingertips barely brushing the sleeve of her gown as she’d gasped, turned and then run from the Great Hall.

He’d followed, but had been unable to catch up to her until she’d reached the battlements and climbed up on to a crenel. With her arms outstretched, Sarah stood with her palms flat against a merlon on either side. The wind had whipped the long skirt of her gown, as it had her hair—both billowing around her. She’d looked over her shoulder at him. Fear and dread had shimmered in her stare. A frown of what he liked to think was regret had wrinkled her brow. Perhaps she’d had a second thought as she’d perched so high above the ground. But then, in the next heartbeat, she was gone. Nothing but air filled the space between the merlons.

The accusations had started immediately—the Wolf had pushed his new bride to her death—he’d thrown her from the wall in a fit of rage. At first he’d defended himself and the accusations had tapered off to rumours circling behind his back. But nothing would ever rid him of the memory, or the guilt. As far as he was concerned he was guilty—of not being able to stop her from jumping, of not knowing her well enough to realise what she might do and of being so terrifying to her that she chose death.



Denise Lynn lives in NW Ohio with her husband, son and slew of 4-legged "kids". She has been an avid reader of romance novels for many years, travelling to lands and times filled with brave knights, courageous ladies and never-ending love between the pages of those wonderful books. She writes medieval romances set in England, Ireland, Normandy, France and a few fictitious islands in the waters surrounding Great Britain. When Denise isn't writing, she can be found hiking, baking, sitting in front of a sewing machine, or snipping herbs for various edible and not-so-edible recipes

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!

$30 Amazon giftcard – 1 winner WW,

inner’s choice of a Print Copy from Warrior Wolves 1-3 – 5 winners, US only!



Same Place Same Stars by Katey Taylor Cover Reveal! @SilverDaggerBookTours #SamePlaceSameStars @authorkateytaylor @kateyltaylor

When twenty-one-year-old Natalia lands herself in a mental institution for her escalating sleep disorder and unconscious erratic behavior, her grasp on reality begins to unravel as she discovers the chilling truth: sometimes, the ones meant to help are the ones who hurt the most.

Same Place Same Stars

by Katey Taylor

Genre

 Psychological Drama

Twenty-one-year-old Natalia battles a rare parasomnia sleep disorder that propels her to act violently, experience night terrors, and put herself in dangerous situations—all while she’s unconscious.

After waking up covered in unexplained bruises, she lands herself back in a mental facility. Making friends has never been easy, but at Awana, she quickly bonds with her fun-loving roommate Lindsay and falls for Gabriel, a handsome yet severely depressed resident she secretly meets at night.

As Natalia wrestles with the harsh side effects of her medication, her reality unravels, exposing disturbing truths about those she trusts most. Though romantic relationships are strictly forbidden at Awana, Gabriel becomes her lifeline amidst the chaos. To be with him, Natalia must risk everything—including her sanity, and she learns some choices carry devastating consequences.

Filled with shocking twists, Same Place, Same Stars, is a psychological drama that unpacks the many layers of what happens when dark secrets refuse to be ignored.

**Releases May 13 2025!**

Add to Goodreads!


Katey Taylor is a writer and a published poet whose poems have appeared in DarkWinter Lit, Brave Voices, and Fauxmoir magazine.

She is a member of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) and has attended writing conferences such as West Coast Writers Conference and Philadelphia’s Writers Workshop.

 Katey has been interviewed by the Just Us Girls Blog, and has served as a SWAAY magazine contributor where her personal essay “When First Loves Becomes First Abuse” was selected as an editor’s weekly pick. 

She has published two novels: Inebriated and Neon Nights, which have both hit Amazon bestsellers lists. Both of Katey’s books received 5-star staff editor reviews from YA Book Central, and one was chosen as their “featured’ indie novel. 

Katey was selected as a featured YA author for Young Entertainment Magazine’s Twitter takeover. Katey is a master of eloquently writing about big issue topics like depression, trauma, and mental illness.  

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$20 Amazon






Chasing Headlines Chasing Victory Book 1 By J Rose Black Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #ChasingHeadlines @jrose.black.5 @J_RoseBlack

They're chasing the same dream...

Too bad they're not on the same team.

Chasing Headlines

Chasing Victory Book 1

By J Rose Black

Genre

 Sports Romance, Enemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy

                                  Warning~Language                                            

They’re chasing the same dream…
Too bad they’re not on the same team.


When Breslin Cooper's major league dreams go up in flames, he's left with his backup plan: college baseball at Texas State Tech. But his altercation with a reporter saddles him with probation, therapy--and a toxic "Storm Cooper" reputation no baseball scout will touch.

Liv Milline’s family name is practically synonymous with IML baseball. Yet despite her love for the game and her dreams of becoming a baseball scout--her father holds one, ironclad rule: No baseball for Olivia.

Her one loophole? Playing sports reporter for Texas State Tech.

Chasing similar dreams, Liv attempts to befriend Breslin. But the amazingly talented, pain in her aperture has only two words to say whenever she's around: “No comment.”

When a lapse in judgment catches Breslin in a real-world rundown, jeopardizing his probation and scholarship, his only choice may be to rely on Liv--the aggravating, attractive, relentless reporter, chasing her latest headline.

Order your copy today!

[Book one of a series, Chasing Headlines ends with a HFN, no cliffhanger, but lingering / unresolved issues waiting to bite them in the butt in Book 2.]

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Chasing Headlines, by J Rose Black - Excerpts


Breslin POV


I threw my glove in my locker and grabbed my backpack from the hook. I imagined myself bounding out of the room, but my legs barely managed more than a shuffle.

Still, I must have been moving a bit too fast because, the next thing I knew, Rally Girl was on the ground, phone skittering across the tile.

And I was the asshole. Shit.

She sat on her rear in the center of the hallway, rubbed her hip and winced. Fuck, is she going to claim I injured her—to get back at me for earlier? I glanced behind me at the locker room door. She can follow me. I looked at the exit door. I’d have to step over her. That would be ridiculous. I had more integrity than that.

Still . . . 

She hissed through clenched teeth.

“You . . .” Dammit, what was her name? I had not been paying attention to anything other than, well, my shirt. On her body. Idiot.

“Well, what’s left of me. Geez, do you eat bricks for breakfast or what?”

Her legs, long and tan and open—they bent at the knee. And apparently, my body was not too tired to enjoy the view. 

“I’m not hurt and I’m not upset. But maybe you could help me up?” She spoke in a soft voice. Dark eyelashes framed bright blue-green eyes.

I extended a hand and tugged her to her feet. She stood for a breath, two. So close. Connected. Something about the feel of her skin against mine . . . A small, but soothing warmth tingled through the nerves in my hand, sparking a heated rush from my palm to my neck.

A sharp breath, and then her fingers slid from my grasp. I missed the warmth of her.

“. . . maybe offer an apology?” She moved her hand up and down in a phantom handshake. “Sure, Coop. No hard feelings.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. Can this be over? I panted for air and shifted back a step. Her being the hot chick in the water fountain had been one thing. I could have tried to find her, always wondered, haunted the student center in the hopes I’d run into her again.

Her being a reporter meant all of those things went on the “no fucking way, ever” list.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but, I wouldn’t hurt you. You mean too much to the team.” She frowned. “This was an accident. Not that it didn’t jar me to the bone. You missed your calling as a linebacker.”

I blinked. Opened my mouth. Re-ran the words through my brain. She just said a shit ton of stuff, and what the fuck was any of it about?

“I’m fine, really. You need to stop gushing over me. All the upset is beneath you.” One eyebrow rose and she crossed her arms. How did she breathe while saying all those words?

“Um, are you OK?” She leaned closer.

I stared at her mouth. “You talk a lot.”

Her arms dropped to her sides. “That’s what you have to say? Not a ‘You OK?’ or ‘So sorry, I didn’t see you there. Can I help you with your things?’”

I didn’t catch all of it, but, maybe, if I did the last thing, she’d move out of my way? And I could get food, drink a gallon of water, take a shower? I stunk to hell and back.

Help her with her stuff. I set my backpack down and knelt at her feet. I tried not to think about those short running shorts or how good it’d feel to slide my fingers over the curve of her calf, up to her hip. I shoved her shit into her bag and tossed it to her. I retrieved her phone from the tile floor.

“That’s, um. Yeah. Thanks.” She pulled the device from my grip.

I pushed my sweat-soaked hair from my forehead. “You’re OK?”

“Yeah.” She pulled the bag over her shoulder. “Got bowled over by a human freight train, but lived to tell the tale. I pity any catcher that tries to get in your way.” She gave me a tight-lipped smile.

So many words. No wonder she had to write them all down. “But you’re fine?”

“What, do you need me to sign a waiver?” 

Red hazed into my vision. “I’d say yes, but reporters are lying snakes in the grass. Wouldn’t matter.”

“I . . .” Her jaw worked, but no sound came out.

An errant thought about her mouth working flit through my brain.

“But, I–We’re on the same team, Coop.” She pointed at her jersey as if that was “proof”. It sure as hell wasn’t.

“We’re not.” I hefted my backpack onto my shoulder. “But you were right about one thing.”

“What do you mean?”

I leaned down and stared at her head on. She turned a deep dark pink.

“To pity the person who tries to get in my way.”



J. Rose Black weaves stories about redemption and the transformational power of love - with a few side-helpings of snark. Now an award-winning and Amazon Top 1000 chart-topping author, Rose writes about broody alpha males and plucky, no-nonsense women ready to fight for what they believe in. Her novels have been praised for their realistic mental health representations, with narratives offering a unique balance of romance, humor and tougher, real-world issues.

When Rose isn’t deeply immersed in her latest manuscript, she’s working in cyber security and thwarting the next generation of internet bad guys. Out of the office, she’s #Shipping with friends over her favorite, swoon-worthy couples, heading to the gym to battle the great evil that is Unmovable Baby Weight, or complaining about her husband’s addiction to 3D printing. Also: nagging her children to eat something other than cheese.

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#SportsRomance #romancebooks #enemiestolovers #romanticcomedy #romancelovers #baseballromance #comedybooks #romancecomedy books #readers #reading #booklovers #BookTour #Giveaway #bookbuzz #bookboost #bookrecommendations #BookBlogger #Bookstagram #bookish #bookclub #MustRead #Writersofinstagram #AmReading #BookPromo #AuthorPromo #writingcommunity #readerscommunity  

Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!


$30 Amazon giftcard,

Chasing Headlines Swag Pack,

1 winner each!

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