Tag Archives: found family

Cara wraps this duet up with a glorious second entry

This-Will-Hurt-II-coverThis Will Hurt II by Cara Dee

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

OMG, I’m not gonna lie, but I wish #StreamingAboutJayroe was a thing because I am head over heels for Monroe Samuel Finlay & Jacob Casper Denver 💗

Personally, though, I think #Roke would make a better shipname, and their fans should have thought a bit more simply #JustSaying 🤣

Book two of Cara’s stunningly brilliant This Will Hurt Duet puts us in Roe’s head three months after the birth of his son and following the marriage to Sandra we saw happen at the end of book one.

When he discovers Jake’s therapy journal and sees the first entry, he’s staggered. Roe’s still dealing with his feelings for his best friend, but he’s also determined that he’ll make a go of his marriage.

So, finding out Jake’s thoughts about how he feels for Roe is a shock to both head and heart, and he doesn’t know how to process it.

You won’t get any detailed plot spoilers in this review, I’ll just say that the journey both men and their expanded family go on is a tumultuous one.

There are highs and lows, and both men really go through the mill, but it never feels like the drama is piled on for effect.

The section dealing with Roe and Sandra’s relationship is superbly done and feels like a realistic and very plausible path for them to end up on.

I love that there’s no “good guys/bad guys” here. Sandra isn’t a villain, Roe isn’t a hero. The only people worthy of the scorn and disgust heaped upon them are Jake’s rotten parents.

The narrative unfolds in its own steady way as the successes of their podcasts and shows continue to grow, and new members are added to their extensive family in ways which are organic and relatable.

I love how I thought both of these books would be more angsty than they turned out to be.

Now, don’t get me wrong, there’re moments when you’ll just want to wrap them both up and hide them from the hurt.

But, for me anyway, it never reached an oppressive or dragging feeling of hopelessness. I always knew they’d end up together because their love was too steady and soul deep not to find a way.

I was also very happy to read there will be more, an extended Epilogue available on Cara’s website after release!

This duet has gone right behind If We Could Go Back as my number two all-time favourite Cara story.

It’s a long, hard road to happiness for #Jayroe but the outcome is worth every painful step.

#ARC kindly received from the author in return for an honest and unbiased review.

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Cover Reveal: Atlas by Eden Finley

Atlas | Eden Finley

Mike Bravo Ops #3

Mike Bravo Ops Atlas Cover Reveal IG

Release Date: June 8th, 2023

Cover Design: Cate Ashwood Designs

Photographer: Peter Henry Serres

Model: Olivier T.

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Blurb

ATLAS

Working undercover at a strip club is not my usual kind of job. If it weren’t a great opportunity to show the Mike Bravo team I can run my own op, I wouldn’t have agreed to it.

When my boss asks me to befriend the biggest gossip in the establishment, the person who knows everything, I’m even more reluctant. Because that happens to be one of the dancers. The only dancer to catch my attention in all the wrong ways.

I need to be professional or I will never prove I’m leadership material.

Only problem is, the guy with the stage name Lemon makes me want to be anything but professional.

LEMON

I’m sick of the new bartender throwing dirty looks my way. He’s as judgmental as he is hot, and let’s just say he’s really judgmental.

I don’t know why he’s working here if he looks down on us dancers so much. He could bartend at a regular club.

But when he saves me from a drunken customer getting too handsy, his attitude suddenly flips, and we find ourselves becoming … friends?

Underneath the judgment, it turns out Atlas is a total sweetheart.

Maybe more caring than anyone I’ve ever met.

I’ve never had a relationship before, but something tells me it could be way too easy to fall for the gentle giant.

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Excerpt

Some dancers refuse to scrounge for money being thrown on stage, and I get it—it can sometimes feel degrading—but majority of the time, it’s the biggest power trip of all. They’re paying to watch me.

I get down on the stage to my hands and knees and crawl toward the nearest table with the most patrons, showing off my killer smile while I lean back so they get a look at my long torso and defined abs that only appear when I’m this stretched out. They’re baby abs, but they’re abs.

Money gets thrown at me, and I move on to another table of rowdy guys. Hey, I play the numbers game. More guys, more money. At least, that’s what I tell the newbs. If they play their cards right, they’ll get money no matter which table they go to.

I’m kind of the unspoken go-to guy here. Any problems, worries, insecurities, the dancers come to me. And I love that too. I’ll do anything to keep each and every one of them safe, and I might look sweet on the stage, but if you fuck with one of my guys, I’ll fuck you up right back. This kitty’s got claws.

The second table is full of hot as fuck muscular men who look like they could hurt me in the best possible way. And worst, if I think about it too hard. Which I won’t.

Instead, I move to the very end of the stage and rise up on my knees so my thong is the only thing separating me from the main guy up front and then pout and wiggle my hips, encouraging him to slip me some bills in the tiny scrap of material.

Then some stupid drunken oaf barrels in from the back, knocking over my meal ticket’s seat in the process, and then pawing at me like a lion in heat.

This happens occasionally, and I’m generally good at handling it, but this guy is three times my size. I grip the jerk’s hair by the root, which, there isn’t much of, and say, “Easy.”

“Yeah, you are,” he yells with a slur in his voice.

“Oh, fuck you.” I shove him off me playfully and my words are tinged with sweetness because it’s the best way to deal with drunken morons, but it doesn’t work this time. He comes back at me again. I manage to shuffle backward, but I’m not fast enough.

This mammoth of a man is practically climbing onto the stage.

Where the fuck is security? When I glance over the guy’s head, I notice they’re trying to break up a fight between two other meatheads.

Great.

What is with all the fuckery tonight?

Just when I think I’m going to have to bring out the big guns and somehow find a way for my foot to connect with his junk, he’s pulled off me and punched in the face by—ugh.

Atlas. Pfft. What a stupid name for a pompous, judgmental bartender.

Not that I can talk. Hello, my name is Lemon, but that’s my stage name. Not my real name.

I usually get a sense of people instantly, but other than the stares of disdain he gives all the dancers, I can’t read the guy. The disgust in his eyes is too loud to detect what’s underneath.

I’m freed from the big guy trying to climb me, but I’m stuck, frozen as I watch the bartender and the customer go at it.

Fists are swung, and despite knowing he finds me disgusting, watching a big burly man fight for my honor is kind of a turn on.

Damn him.

Some of the guys who were at the table pull Atlas off their friend, but security is finally free to step in.

The entire group of men are tossed out on their asses, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I watch them go.

“Lemon?” A big hand waves in front of my face. “Hello?”

My attention snaps to the man in front of me, and his deep brown eyes no longer hold judgment. They show concern.

That might be worse.

“Well, hello, sailor. Where’d you come from?” Distracting flirt mode: activated.

“Are you okay?” he asks with genuine worry in his tone.

My throat feels tight. “Never been better.”

Either he doesn’t believe me or maybe my poker face isn’t as good as it used to be because he steps forward, scoops me into his wide as fuck arms, and says, “Let’s get you backstage.”

Despite wanting to protest, I let my arms wrap around his neck. “I could’ve handled that myself, you know.” Me, petulant? What? Never.

“I’m sure you could have.” Surprisingly, there’s no condescension like I expect there to be.

“I can walk.”

“I got you.”

Damn, if that doesn’t make my insides melt.

He takes me through the door marked employees only to our dressing room and places me gently on a chair. When he stands again, I take in the amazing body I’ve tried to ignore since he started here.

The man is a tank. Tall, wide. Just as big as the guy who pawed at me out there. He has a faux mohawk with dark roots but blonder tips. He’s jacked everywhere, and unlike my bright yellow thong that hugs my dick nice and cozy-like, it looks like his gigantor of a penis wants to escape the confines of his black one.

“Are you okay?” he asks again.

The smile that finds my face isn’t even forced. “I’m good. I promise.”

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About The Author

Eden Finley is an Amazon bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romances that are full of snark and light-hearted fluff.

She doesn’t take anything too seriously and lives to create an escape from real life for her readers. The ideas always begin with a wackadoodle premise, and she does her best to turn them into romances with heart.

With a short attention span that rivals her son’s, she writes multiple different pairings: MM, MMF, and MF.

She’s also an Australian girl and apologises for her Australianisms that sometimes don’t make sense to anyone else.

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Website: https://edenfinley.com

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Release Blitz: This Will Hurt I by Cara Dee

This Will Hurt I | Cara Dee

This Will Hurt Duet #1

This-WIll-Hurt-I-RB-banner-1

Release Date: May 9th, 2023

Cover Photographer: CJC Photography

Model: Eric Guilmette

Universal Link: https://readerlinks.com/l/3340203

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/137972940-this-will-hurt-i

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This-Will-Hurt-I-cover

Blurb

Maybe the heart needs to break before one can put together the pieces correctly. This is Jake and Roe’s story.

I used to think leaving the Marines and moving to LA was the defining moment that changed my life. I was gonna become a documentary filmmaker and see the world through my camera. Then I met Roe Finlay.

Never in a million years could I have imagined…well, everything we went through. I sucked at expressing how I felt—which was emotionally stunted most of the time—but Roe seemed to get me. I became…dependent.

Attached. Not in a sexual way or anything—I wasn’t gay. Far from it. Or bisexual like Roe, for that matter. No, this was different. I just wanted to be close to him. He made me laugh like no other. We were a fantastic team. We lived together. Worked together. He was my best friend.

He was everything. He was my defining moment.

Until he decided to commit to his f—to his girlfriend.

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Excerpt

Just go home, you fucking moron. You don’t belong in LA.

I made my way across campus, feeling more out of place every time I left class.

I was leaving behind a good career in the Marines for…random classes at Santa Monica College. Learn videography in twelve weeks. Study the art of documentary filmmaking in one semester. Then I thought about why I’d left the service. How sick I was of seeing death through my lens. Combat photography had been such a fucking fluke anyway. I was infantry. I was more at home on the front lines in Afghanistan than… But no. No. No, I was here because I couldn’t stand the war anymore. I didn’t wanna see another dead soldier, hear another explosion, witness another crying child surrounded by blood and debris.

I went to the coffee shop on the corner of the street where Nikki worked. She had the car, and we’d go home together once she was off her shift.

I ordered a coffee and found an empty table by one of the windows.

Sounded pretty good, though, didn’t it? Go home with my girlfriend at the end of the day… Except, it was her car, her apartment, and my savings were almost gone. By next month, I’d have to take that bartending job in West Hollywood where the tips were so good.

By then, I’d be twenty-seven.

I retrieved my pen from the inner pocket of my jacket, and I opened the notebook.

Final project. Final project, final project, final project. I needed content. I understood filming. Documenting. But coming up with my own content for a fucking college class’s final project? I was doomed.

“There you are! Fuck, I thought I lost you, man.”

I furrowed my brow and glanced toward the man’s voice—that belonged to someone I definitely didn’t know. But he was coming toward my table, and he was staring right at me.

No, wait. I recognized him. He was in my class, wasn’t he? Out here, I had developed a radar for East Coast people, and he had a New York accent. Otherwise, not much about him stood out. Average height, dark hair, fairly fit, on the lanky side, probably a bit younger than me.

He sat down in front of me, out of breath, and removed his messenger bag. “Look, I’m just gonna come out and say it. I have two hundred bucks, I’m living in my truck, and I have one network connection that I desperately wanna use. He told me to send him my final project—see if he could make some calls—but as has become painfully clear in this class, videography isn’t my thing. I understand fuck-all about goddamn HDV, SxS, and the difference between standard definition and hi-def.”

He leaned forward. “Dude, y’all were talking about memory cards, and I thought we were discussing a fucking festival in Austin.”

That…was SXSW. South by Southwest.

“Anyway—in short, I have an idea,” he went on. “There is an artistic approach to it, but I’ll admit, it’s more of a come-hither for networks, something I think will sell. To get a foot in the door. But I need a partner, and I’ve watched you in class. You know your way around the equipment and the editing software. When the professor asks his dumb, insane questions, you actually know the answers.”

Was this how he talked to people he’d never met before? I didn’t even know his name.

I guessed if you were desperate enough and living out of your car, you cut to the chase faster.

That might very well be me in the near future.

So if he had an idea…

I extended my hand. “I’m Jake.”

He gave me a puzzled look, before he seemed to remember he’d just jumped into the conversation with no preamble. Then he flashed a dimpled grin and shook my hand.

“Roe. It’s Monroe, but everyone calls me Roe.”

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Coming Soon

This Will Hurt II

This Will Hurt Duet #2

Release Date: June 2nd, 2023

Cover Photographer: CJC Photography

Model: Phillip Glass

Universal Link: Coming soon

This-Will-Hurt-II-cover

Blurb

Buckle in. Roe and Jake have mountains to climb, walls to tear down, and countless private moments to bring them even closer in this final part of their journey.

The ground beneath me had finally settled. I was content. I was all right. I could move forward and live with my choices.

Then I found Jake’s damn journal from…therapy. That was right. My best friend, who defined “man of few words,” was in therapy. The ground started shaking again. I got desperate. I got angry. I…almost lost him on the job when he saved my life.

Nothing was settled anymore.

cara
About The Author

I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.

There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.
Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.

I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.

Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.

I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.

Social Media
https://www.caradeewrites.com/cdwlandingpage

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