Goddess of Forgetfulness by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff 💕 Review, Spotlight, FREE eBook & New Release Giveaway 💕 (Fantasy Romantic Comedy)

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From New York Times Bestseller Mimi Jean Pamfiloff, Comes Book #4 of the Immortal Matchmakers, Inc. Series. (Standalone)

“FORGET ME! PLEASE!”

The Goddess of Forgetfulness has spent seventy thousand years wishing for a man to remember her for more than five seconds. But when her wish is finally granted, she’s appalled. Távas is cocky, handsome, and seven feet of rude muscled man. He can’t possibly be her mate! But all signs are pointing to yes. Okay, at least a strong maybe.

Is this some sort of cosmic dating error? She darn well hopes so.

Determined to discover the truth, she agrees to one date. Just one! But the night is about to reveal that his real identity is crazier and more alluring than she ever imagined.

This series is SO FUN!!!

I totally get Mimi's sense of humor. A Little sassy, a little vulgar, but absolutely perfect. I love how she weaves not only that humor, but also the element of suspense throughout the story. After all, Forgetty's time is running out!

I'll admit that I wasn't sure if I would like Távas at first. He came across as being kinda over-the-top mean to Forgetty, but, as you can imagine, it all worked out in the end :)

I'm happy that I got to catch up with characters from the previous book in the series, and I can't wait for more books in the series!!!

(I received a copy of this book in consideration of an honest review)

CHAPTER ONE
“Gods fucking dammit!” With the loud intro music thundering in her ears and the bright lights beckoning her to the stage, the Goddess of Forgetfulness extended her right hand and cringed at her numbing fingertips. “This can’t be good.” And she certainly couldn’t go out there and perform like this. Because the tingling wasn’t some sort of deity carpal tunnel. It was the onset of a much, much bigger problem. The godly doomsday sort.

“Bite me, evil Universe. You can’t have me!” She shook out her hands, straightened her spine, and stomped the nonexistent dust from her white go-go boots like a Spanish bullfighter summoning courage. Twenty thousand well-deserving mortals from Ibiza, Spain awaited her just on the other side of the black curtain. The town needed her. They needed to laugh and dance and lose themselves in the music. Not that they would die if they didn’t, but everyone knew the world thrived on vibes.

And, honey, there are a whole helluva lot of bad vibes sailing around the planet right now. It was her divine duty to help turn this earthly crap-cruise of negativity around. And my humans need to dance.

She lifted her chin and stepped forward—

“Ooph!” she grunted, unexpectedly colliding with something huge and solid. Suddenly, she was falling, her legs tangled with the other person’s.

She landed on her back with a grunt, a very warm body on top of her.

“Get off me!” Forgetty screamed, realizing she was buried beneath a man-shaped mound of muscles wearing an “I heart DJ Whatsherface” T-shirt.

Yes, yes. She was DJ Whatsherface—the world’s most anti-famous DJ, known for her addictive, hypnotically sexual spins as much as she was for everyone being unable to remember her. “Yeah! Let’s go see…that lady. She’s the best. I think?” Or, “I can’t remember her name or what she looks like, but I know I really want to see her and forget her again! Woohoo!”

It’s so weird being me, she thought quickly, taking notice of the offender’s sky-blue eyes, with lavender flecks, boring down on her.

Wow. Her breath jammed into her lungs, which stuck in the inflated position.

“Well, well, well…who do we have here?” he said in a deep melodic voice, not the least bit concerned about having knocked her over or being on top of her.

I will have to vanquish him. But after the show.

“Remove yourself at once, you pesky man-critter,” she snarled, “or I will hit you with something so powerfully vegetative, even your drool will have drool.”

Still on top of her, the man slid his arms to her wrists and pinned her down. His crisp blue irises flickered to full-on lavender and then back again.

Huh? What was that? It must’ve been the stage lights.

“Now, now.” He chuckled wickedly, seeming perfectly at home nestled between her thighs. “No need to be impolite. It was a simple mistake—of which, I forgive you. Just be more careful where you’re walking next time.”

Her mouth fell open.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” His smug smile grew. It was then that she noticed the supple fullness of his lips and his short dark beard that matched the brown roots of his long, dirty blond hair.

Fine. He’s hot. But how dare he not fear me and infer that a cat could best me or my tongue? I am a great and powerful deity. Yay me!

“No, baby,” she purred, preparing to blast him with a dose of her powerful light. “But this pussycat does have a bite.” Three, two, on—

The man jumped off her, getting to his feet and stumbling back. “Gah!” He winced in pain.

Oopsies, she thought sadistically. Humans could not tolerate prolonged contact with a deity unless the human wore black jade to blunt the god’s energy. If a god—say one with a lot of extra time on her hands—focused her thoughts, she could rile up her cells and get them to release a burst of light. Too much would kill a person. But just the right amount?

“Owww…” The man bent his well-built frame, planting his ripped arms on his knees. He had black geometric shapes tattooed on his muscled forearms. She’d seen those symbols before but couldn’t remember where.

Hmmm. Strange. Not like me to forget things. It was she who made others forget—their pain, their anger, their shopping lists.

“What the hell was that?” He panted toward his heavy leather boots.

“It’s you. Fucking off.” A satisfied grin crept over her lips as she sat up, grateful for having worn underwear beneath her short skirt tonight. Normally, she liked to free-cooter it, but it was January.

His head of long silky hair whipped up, and his abnormally handsome face—which she ignored, because…Ick him!—displayed a condescending frown.

“Me-fucking-yow, asshole,” she added.

He brought himself upright, his powerful pecs stretching out the front of his DJ Whatsherface fan T-shirt. His wide shoulders were the perfect size to support his very solid arms, and he looked to be at least seven feet tall like her brothers—not that the gods were really related. They’d all been birthed from cosmic soup for the Universe’s amusement.

“Wrong sound, sweetheart. Try barking.” He turned and started walking away, still not bothering to help her up.

Wait…barking? Barking? I will smite him!

She hopped to her feet. “Hey! Get back here, buddy. I am nobody’s bitch!”

Just before he turned the corner around the black stage curtain, she could swear she saw him chuckling—those broad, strong shoulders shaking.

“What’s so funn…” She looked down at her shirt, remembering her outfit—a hot pink miniskirt and a tight white T-shirt that said “BITCH” on the front. On the back, “Perra Sucia,” or dirty bitch in Spanish.

She crinkled her lips and planted her hands on her sides. The shirt had been funny this morning when she’d put it on, looking for something edgy to wear. Kind of like saying “yeah, I’m a badass” in two languages. Now she just felt stupid.

Because he ruined it. She would find him later and set him straight. Right now, she needed to get on with the show.

She closed her eyes, gathering herself. Get it together, goddess. It’s time to party. She released a soothing breath and opened her heart to the awaiting masses outside. She had a job to do.

Yes, and now you have two. Because that numbing in her fingertips could only mean one thing: Her countdown had begun. If she didn’t find a man—her man—she would turn evil.

And gods help us all. A rogue Forgetty meant an irreversible worldwide amnesia epidemic.

   

To Save Sir by Laylah Roberts 💕 Book Blitz, FREE eBook & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Erotic BDSM Romance)

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What would you do to save the person you loved? Would you die for them? Would you kill for them?

She just wanted to make the world a better place…
All Jenna wanted was to help people. That’s why she went to medical school. Why she joined Doctors Without Borders. She knew she could make a difference …until the day her world is ripped apart.

He didn’t think there was any good left in the world…
Curt Nolan didn’t feel hope any more. He didn’t feel much of anything. The only thing that got him out of bed was his job at Black-Gray Investigations. Until he is hired to rescue Jenna. She’s everything he isn’t. Good, kind, sweet.
And when he realizes the danger to Jenna isn’t over, Curt knows he’ll do whatever is necessary to protect her.

Contains BDSM and hot, hot sex.

She blinked back tears. The look on his face became slightly panicked.
“Jenna?”
“I’m okay. Just feeling a bit off balance.”
“Understandable. We’re only a few hours from where we’ll meet the chopper then we’ll be airlifted out of here, and you can return home and get on with your life.” Travis stood and left.
She shivered. “He makes it sound so easy. Like being kidnapped and held by extremists happens every day.”
“It won’t be,” Curt told her bluntly. “He’s trying to keep you feeling positive and happy because we can’t afford to have you lose it right now. Then we’d probably have to sedate you.”
Panic filled her at the thought of being helpless. “Don’t. Please. I couldn’t take that. I’m not going to go crazy on you.”
“I know you won’t. I know how strong you are.”
“I don’t feel very strong right now.”
“Not everyone would have survived eight days in that hell hole and still come out sane. You did. Because you’re strong. You remember that when you’re feeling low. When you’re wondering why you were taken. When you’re scared. You survived. That’s all you ever have to do, Jenna, survive. Because I will always come for you.”

   

The Inheritance by Mika Lane 💕 Book Blitz & Signed Book Giveaway 💕 (Contemporary Romance)

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Life was good. I was tending bar, making enough to get by, paying my rent, and enjoying the occasional cocktail with my best friend gay boyfriend, Matty. And then I got the call. One of my customers had passed. The one who we nicknamed “Grandpa,” who’d watch us for hours from his seat at the bar, sucking on the same beer, never leaving a tip.

For some reason the old coot left me his estate. Huh? He looked like the last person in the world to have an “estate.” Well, did your mother ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?

And thanks to good old Grandpa, it looks like I may never have to work again.

But of course there’s a catch. There’s always a catch. I only get Grandpa’s money if I’m 25 years old (check), and married (not checked; not by a landslide). And–I only have 30 days to pull this off.

I didn’t see how I could make it happen, until four eligible bachelors waltzed into my life. Then, I had a whole different set of problems…

Finally, I had the opportunity to bring my mouth to her throat, sucking and biting just enough to leave small marks. I slid lower and she clutched my hair while I brushed my lips along her cleavage, my hands wandering to her delicious tits. The alleyway was dim, out of the shine of the street lamps, but I could hear people walking past, talking and laughing, completely unaware of the tryst taking place just inches away.

The sadness that had been there before, that I wasn’t sure about? Yup, it was real now. I wasn’t a sentimental guy, but I could see she was troubled. And I didn’t like that. I fought the urge to grab her and tell her everything was going to be all right. It was clear she was working through whatever was going on, in her own way. We had to let her do that.

Love Over Lattes by Diana A. Hicks 💕 Book Blitz & Prize Pack Giveaway 💕 (Contemporary Romance)

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Single mom Valentina wants to provide a good life for her son, starting with the perfect home. When the deal on her dream house falls through, rather than move back in with her parents and disappoint them and her son once again, she accepts the help of the intimidating-as-hell stranger she’s admired from her coffee shop seat for the last six months. She's afraid to fall for the wrong guy again, so she makes Cole promise to keep their relationship strictly professional.

Following his failed marriage, Cole can’t find a reason to care about anything or anyone. Saving his company from his ex-wife is the only thing that has kept him afloat for the past six months. As loneliness sets in and he begins to lose the fight over his company, Valentina becomes his lifeline. Cole wants to be more than her landlord, and he has a plan to get her to release him from his promise.

The VIP of the VIP room in yet another section in the ginormous warehouse was smaller and more intimate than the last two. At the far end of the room, a violinist played an old tango I knew well, “Mano a Mano.” The sensual and melancholic melody added to the decadent setting of the place. Probably the reason Cole didn’t want to bring me here.
His tent was cozy, all done in white leather furnishings and infused with a faint scent of vanilla. Under the shimmer of the small chandelier overhead, my dress looked scarlet red. I swallowed and smoothed out the fabric around my waist. This was the worst place to tell him about his ex’s plans. I plumped myself on the sofa, and a few pillows dropped to the floor.
“Oh, sorry.” I bent to pick them up.
“Leave it.” Cole caught my hand. He unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and sat.
Out of habit, or cowardice, I inched over to my left to make room. He gave me a bright smile that said nice try. “Make up your mind, Valentina. I can’t take this any longer.”
A hot puddle of unrealized desire, I melted a little every time he said my name. I squeezed my legs together and scooted some more. This sofa wasn’t big enough for the two of us. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you want to kiss me or not?” He slid across the cushion, closing the space between us. “Ask me.”
I adjusted my weight on the seat. He tightened his hold on my fingers. God, even if I had wanted to flee, I didn’t think my legs would respond. Cocking his head, he rubbed his thumb across the inside of my wrist where my pulse was visible.
“I want you.” The words left my lips of their own accord. I had meant to say something else, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what.
“Close enough, sweetheart.” Cupping the nape of my neck, he took my mouth with a longing that sent a wave of adrenaline from my core to my toes. Heat pulsed between my thighs as the tip of his tongue teased mine. I leaned in and sucked gently. I might not get another chance to taste him.
He eased me back on the sofa, and I landed on a bed of soft and silky decorative pillows. A groan escaped his lips, making my nerves dissolve. Did he want me as much as I wanted him? The knowledge that he might fueled the daring side of me. My hand trembled as I slipped it inside his jacket and kneaded the hard muscles under his shirt. I pulled on it, my fingers itching to touch his skin.

    

One Night in Havana by Kathleen Rowland 💕 Book Tour & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Erotic Romantic Suspense)

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A desperate competition and sizzling attraction leads to dangerous desire.

New York Marine biologist Veronica “Roni” Keane is attending the Havana Bay Conference in Cuba. Tomorrow only one grant will be awarded which will provide the winner with professional recognition, resources for a project, and living expenses for two years. She hopes to continue her deceased father’s work, but smooth operator, Carlos Montoya, has won many grants in the past.

Carlos, a freelancer for the Havana Port Authority, works to help protect Havana’s reputation as a bastion of safety. As international travelers flock to the island, attracted by its 1950’s time-warp and colonial architecture, the drug business is running rampant, particularly on Roni’s cruise ship. Something’s not right, and when her scuba tanks are tampered with, Carlos brings in the military police to investigate. For her safety, he keeps her close, but he craves her body.

Their attraction leads to a fun night with a bit of kink. But Roni finds herself in more trouble than she bargained for when the criminals blame her for alerting the military police and come looking for her. Can Roni trust Carlos to protect her? Will she stay in Havana if Carlos wins the coveted grant, or kiss her lover goodbye?

Veronica was a looker without the jaded appearance of the many women he'd seen wandering from her cruise ship. Most of the time she dressed in business attire, but her curves smoldered underneath. Her high heels fit with Cuban fashion. The moonlight highlighted her shoulder-length blonde hair. While scuba diving, he'd forced himself to look away from her long, bare legs for fear he'd run his hands up them and tuck his fingers beneath her thighs. At the restaurant, he’d enjoyed a little banter, but tonight he'd gotten another glimpse of her toned body as she crept across the deck. The short dress plastered against her and she hitched it up to move around. The light sway of her hips brought him to his knees. He shuffled around the cabin, his dick pressing against his zipper. Cruise vessels were being monitored by Border Protection, and he'd make sure no harm came to her. He glanced across the water and reminded himself to be useful.

It'd been the same since he and his buddy, Alberto, from the military police put two and two together. They'd sat on a rooftop deck of a bar overlooking the harbor, watching local criminals getting on and off her ship, the Ecstasy.

"That operation needs extra eyes," Alberto had said with a swig of beer.

"What's going on?"

Alberto had glared at him. "Crims are dealing from the cruise ships. Your boat has—"

"A perfect location?" The next day, with military cameras and other equipment installed, Carlos started his surveillance job. Same drugs, different participants and ways of operation. Stuck on his cabin cruiser with no company was tough on the libido. Before leaving in the early hours of the morning, he connected his recording device to a landline provided by the port authority. At his house, he filed reports, uploaded photographs to support his narrative, showered, and then changed into his usual garb.

Most days he taught students studying abroad in English at the University of Havana. Cuban students interacted with American, South American, and European exchange students. Socializing made them seek a better life. New hopes and dreams threatened to divide their insular Cuban community. Now, during winter break, he attended the Oceanography Conference.

Every session had been a snore until he'd learned Veronica was pitted against him for the same grant. Stiff competition brightened the experience. The daughter of the late Cephalopodiatrist, Ronald Keane, didn't churn out an article a month for ten plus years without honing in on the power of eight. Octopuses changed shape and color at will, squirted ink, vanished through tiny cracks, and even tasted with their suckers. The predators reminded him of himself, but everything about Veronica put her in the guileless category.

Did she not know he'd invited her to scuba dive with a handful of judges to even out the playing field? He'd won a handful of grants. Networking was about making connections and building mutually beneficial relationships. Instead of joining the crew afterward for drinks, she'd assisted his eighty-year-old abuela off the boat and down The Malecón seawall. That day a cold front blew in, and massive waves crashed against her chances to expand her sphere of influence. Too bad Bela had lit on her like a sticky butterfly. His heart skipped with Veronica in the midst of a beat.

He was aware of the routine when anyone researched and wrote scholarly articles. She had to plan. Make predictions. Envision. Check data, and then double-check. On paper everything was perfect. But in reality, when competing for a grant, something went wrong. She didn’t sell herself. Perhaps he'd frostily point that out, later, somehow, and help her future efforts.

Movement on the deck outside his cabin brought him back to the present. Veronica stood and turned toward the dock, and he followed her silently to the front of the boat.

A guard in a light blue uniform stormed down the dock. Will she jump toward him?