July 09, 2019

TOUR: The Judgment of Paris

The Odyssey Duet #2
Author: Dr. Rebecca Sharp
Release Date: July 9th


Love is honorable but selfish. Love is a record of my wrongs.
Love had fractured in trials but held on for the truth.

And the truth was he’d hurt me, yet I loved him.
He’d left me, yet I followed him.

But I was done with Léo Baudin.
And as soon as the semester was over, I would be done with Paris.

But until then, I would learn the rest of his secrets.
The ones they whispered about behind his back. The ones that had the entire city watching his every move. The ones that held him hostage.

But to know his secrets meant to know him. And to know him was to fall further for the man who’d already hurt me so much.

I hated him for breaking my heart, but I should’ve learned by now that the things we loathe become the things we love.

And just when I thought there was nothing left to keep us apart, the ghosts of his past came back to life with a truth neither of us could’ve expected.

And lies that neither of us could’ve imagined.

As each layer unraveled, the choice between power and wisdom and love grew greater. And the consequences of our decision would be the judgment of this city.

But when all else fails, love always hopes.
Against all odds, love always perseveres.

The Judgment of Paris is the second book in the Odyssey Duet.



The Judgment of Paris is the second book in the Odyssey Duet and it explodes with passion and angst.

The lust, hunger, devotion and yearning between Troy and Leo is palpable. I’ve never felt such an intense connection between two characters before. The passion between these two is so hot it’s panty melting. So intense its soul-searing. The devastation they feel is intense and real. Make no mistake this book will leave its mark.

I loved this couple and this duet. It was well written and the feels kept coming.

Although the sex scenes are hot, heavy and sexy, I found that it left no room for the story itself. This story ended up feeling like it was more sex driven than character driven.

I also had a difficult time with the history surrounding Leo’s wife, Amelie. I felt like it came out of left field and that it was put there simply to add drama.

Amelie, herself, is not the problem because we all knew something would arise with her. Rather the doom and gloom surrounding her family and who they are. It felt rushed, unexplored and like it didn’t belong. It made it feel like it was thrown in haphazardly. There was no real work up from book one about any of this.

Who is his ex-wife and her family, really? What does it have to do with this story?

Although Amelie’s family history left me with more questions than answers, the introduction to Quinton and the Valois has me all kinds of hopeful and excited that he will get his own book!

This is an overall astounding read that I recommend wholeheartedly!

I received an ARC of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.


“So, you don’t want this?” he pushed, his hand now gently cupping me. He was watching it—watching it squeeze the soft flesh and thumb over my nipple. He watched it like his hand didn’t belong to him, like after this moment he’d cut it from his body for betraying him. “You don’t want me to fuck you on this desk right now?”

“No,” I insisted, even as I pushed against his palm.

“Menteuse. I bet your little body has been begging for me. I bet that pussy of yours is soaked and clenching, desperate to be stretched and ripped by my cock. I bet your body wants to swallow me whole, right now.”

“I bet yours wants the same,” I shot back breathlessly. It was as close to admitting to it as I was going to get.

His thumb grazed along the edge of my tank, tracing the soft skin of my chest like he was teetering on a precipice of what was going to happen right now.

I wanted him to choose me.

I wanted him to need me.

But he never did.

“I don’t need your body, Miss Milanovic.” His hand dropped to the desk between us and his face drifted farther from mine. “If I did, I wouldn’t have left.”

I shriveled up and died. Right there. In the middle of the classroom, in the middle of Paris, and in the middle of everything that my life could have been.

Dr. Rebecca Sharp, while using a pen name, is actually a doctor living in Pennsylvania with her husband - the love of her life.

She enjoys working in her practice with her father as well as letting her creativity run free as an author. Growing up she's always loved a good love story and finally decided to give writing one of her own a go.

After graduating with her doctoral degree, she now enjoys spending that thing called free time traveling with her husband, cooking, and knitting.


July 03, 2019


I was sixteen when I vowed I would never marry him.

We shook on it. Pinky swore. Even put it in writing and all but signed our names in blood.

It was the one and only thing we ever agreed on.

To the world, he’s Prince Ian, Duke of Montcroix, second in line to the Chamont throne. Panty-melting accent. Royal charm. Hypnotic presence. Blindingly gorgeous. Laundry list of women all over the world who would give their first born for the chance to marry him. Most eligible bachelor in the free world …

But to me, he’s nothing more than the son of my father’s best friend—the pesky blue-eyed boy who made it his mission to annoy the ever-loving hell out of me summer after summer as our families vacationed together, our parents oblivious to our mutual disdain as they joked about our “betrothal.”

He was also my first kiss.

And my first taste of heartbreak so cataclysmic it almost broke me.

I meant it with every fiber of my soul when I swore I’d never marry him.

But on the eve of my 24th birthday, His Royal Highness has the audacity to show up at my door after years of silence and make a demand will forever change the trajectory of our lives: “We have to break our pact.”



“Ms. Belleseau,” he says before moving aside. “Welcome. Won’t you come in?”

Her eyes lift across the small space until they find mine, and her hands clasp in front of her waist. She’s in jean shorts, a white tank top, sandals, and a wildly colorful cardigan. Her long hair is piled on top of her head—hardly the look of a queen, but I like it nonetheless.

My all-American sweetheart …

“I’ll do it,” she says as Harrison locks the door behind her. Emelie takes a few more steps closer, until we’re only a few feet apart. “But I have terms and conditions.”

“Such as?”

“No sex,” she says.

I hide my disappointment with a smirk. “Glad we’re getting that one out of the way. What else?”

“No romance.”


“Limited public engagements,” she adds.

“I’m afraid that one isn’t up for negotiation,” I say. “But you’ll be pleased to know that we aren’t allowed to demonstrate any public displays of affection, so any and all public engagements will require nothing more than a smile, a curtsy, and a few kind words.”

“Fine.” Her arms fold across her chest, like she still isn’t comfortable with the idea of this arrangement. “You get me until my twenty-ninth birthday and not a day longer.”


“Oh. And I’m allowed to see my family at any chosen time, regardless of schedule or engagements,” she says.

I hesitate—logistics and all of that.

“That’s my non-negotiable,” she says. “My mother and my sisters are my everything. If I want to see them, you’re going to make it happen or the deal is off. And my friends too. I want my friends to be able to visit."

That’s her non-negotiable? I figured it would’ve been the sex …

“All right,” I say. “Shall we pinky swear on this as we did with our last agreement?”

She fights a smile—a good sign—but her poker face returns in an instant, rendering her back to unreadable.

“You have my word if I have yours,” she says, not moving so much as an inch closer. Her chin lifts and her shoulders straighten as she looks me dead in the eye. I can’t tell if she’s feeling good about her decision or giving me her best poker face.

“Apparently pinky promises aren’t as binding as we thought now, are they?”

My joke falls on deaf ears. She isn’t amused.

Her arms lower to her sides, as though she’s feeling slightly less defensive than when she first walked in the door.

“You’re going to make an amazing queen, Emelie,” I say, envisioning her in my great-grandmother’s glimmering Belcast tiara. “Welcome to the royal family.”


I enjoyed both characters. Emelie and Julian.  I was interested in the plot and like the writing. 

What I did not enjoy as much was the execution and the pace.  The relationship between Emelie and Julian felt rushed.  The relationship curve from hate to love, for me, came about too quick.  Too much, too fast after so many years.  As result, I didn’t feel the connection between these two that I should have.  I loved both characters separately but together, I did not feel the spark or passion between them.

I also have to say that I didn’t agree with how the ending came about.  The decisions the characters made, for me, seemed abrupt and out of character.  It doesn’t feel like there was any weighted thought on the major decision they made nor the repercussions.

With that being said, I liked the story overall.  This book does not put me off this author.  I am interested in seeing and reading what she comes out with next.

Wall Street Journal and #1 Amazon bestselling author Winter Renshaw is a bona fide daydream believer. She lives somewhere in the middle of the USA and can rarely be seen without her trusty Mead notebook and ultra portable laptop. When she’s not writing, she’s living the American dream with her husband, three kids, and the laziest puggle this side of the Mississippi.

And if you'd like to be the first to know when a new book is coming out, please sign up for her private mailing list here ---> http://eepurl.com/bfQU2j


June 27, 2019

REVIEW & RELEASE: Teardrop Shot

Teardrop Shot
Author: Tijan
Genre: Standalone Sports Romance


I asked for his criteria for bed buddies–that's the PG version.

He swore at me and said he didn’t do groupies. And just like that, our friendship was off to a great start.

Reese Forster was the starting point guard for the Seattle Thunder.

Gorgeous. Cocky. Loved by the nation.
He’s also attending preseason basketball training camp where I used to work.

Correction: where I work again, because I was fired from my last job.
And dumped.
And I might have a tiny bit of baggage, but that’s normal. Right?

Reese and I shouldn’t have become friends. We shouldn’t have become roommates.
And we really shouldn’t have started sleeping together … (Except we did.)

I’m adorably psychotic. He’s in the NBA.
This is not a disaster waiting to happen, at all.

Teardrop Shot is a 107k standalone with brand new characters. 

Apple Books | Nook | Kobo


Teardrop Shot has got to be Tijan’s best work to date. And yes, I dare say it is better than my all-time favorite of hers, the Fallen Crest series.

It is hard to let that go, but this book shows this author’s growth as a writer and showcases her spectacular writing talent.

Not only do we have the regular angst of a Tijan book, we get so much more. Humour, tears, loss, pain friendship, love and a story line and characters that really are exceptional.

This book is so much more than I thought it could be and it left me gobsmacked. If there is one book you want to read this year, make it this one!

Charlie is a wonderfully complex character. She hides behind her hilarious verbal diarrhea when stressed or nervous. She also has a past that is both heartbreaking and soul-crushing. You feel every one of her emotions and you empathize. Your heart breaks right along with hers.

Reese is an NBA player that is dealing with family issues. He is a truly remarkable character. His is nothing short of swoon-worthy. Kind, caring and strong are just the tip of the iceberg for his character.

When these two meet, the sparks fly and so does the verbal diarrhea.

But, unlike others, Reese takes notice and spars right back.

Is it possible for someone whose soul has been crushed to move forward with someone new?

This story is told through Charlie’s POV only. It was the only downfall, for me. I would have loved even a chapter or two in Reese’s POV.

This is simply a preference however and does not detract whatsoever from the story or the book as a whole.

This is an EPIC read with an EPIC story but the writing and characters make this book EPICALLY EPIC!

I received an ARC of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.


Two days later, they’d won their first preseason game and were back practicing.

Both gyms were filled and were in the middle of drills. The sound of bouncing basketballs, whistles, yelling, and the squeaks of shoes against the floor filled the courts.

And the smell of sweat.

I loved it.

I’d never enjoyed playing the sport myself, but my brother was a basketball star for our high school team. He was starting varsity in seventh grade, and growing up as Chance Manning’s little sister had its benefits—but also its cons. One of the benefits, I was treated like royalty at every single basketball game. Another girl, whose brother was on the varsity team with Chance, told me she’d started being one of the team’s managers. That was a loose title they’d given her because she showed up and took stats for their games. She’d asked if I wanted to do it with her, and the answer had been a resounding hell yes. The popular girls down front always had time for Chance’s little sister, and the only better seating was actually with the team. That’s where they put us managers.
So even to this day, a filled and active gym of basketball players made a part of me purr like a kitten.

I’d missed this, and I’d forgotten how much I missed this. Seems as if coming back to camp hadn’t been the only part of my history I was revisiting, and I was okay with that too. I dropped the ball I’d been bouncing idly and whipped my head around.

Reese stood at the counter, sweat wetting his hair, his face, and his shirt. He held a basketball on his hip.


My brain turned off. Reese Forster looked as if he’d stepped out of the shower. He didn’t smell like it, but he looked like it.

My groin was inflamed. The Fourth of July decided to visit, and I groaned, biting my lip.

So embarrassing.

“What’d you say?” I asked again, my voice a little raspy.

He nodded toward the screen door. “You and that guy from the other day. You’re good friends.”

It took a second, but Grant. It clicked then. The Tub Day.

And nope.

I was not going to let my weird brain go nuts with thoughts here. He was asking because he was curious. That’s all. For no reason other than curiosity.


A monotone voice sounded through my brain: Calm the fuck down.

I swallowed, and just like that, I was calmer.

My normal response was to go into hyperdrive, but enough was enough. I needed to be a normal person. Reese (I wasn’t using his last name any more) had asked a general question, because he was generally interested, and I could respond—like a generally normal person.

You’d think I’d be better after getting hazed. I wasn’t. I was worse, in some ways.
I tucked some hair behind my ear. “I used to work here a long time ago, and he and I—”
Reese bounced the ball between his legs, once, catching it right away. “There was a thing?”

I was totally cool here.
“Yeah.” I winced at myself. “I mean, no. We were best friends. That’s it.”
He dropped the ball again, starting to bounce it in front of him. “So there wasn’t a thing?”
“So who did you have a thing with?” He was still bouncing, his head cocked to the side.
“What?” Why is he asking about this?
“Come on.” He looked me up and down. “You’re hot. You’re trying to tell me you’re single?”
I couldn’t say I wasn’t.
He kept on, “And you’re working here as what? A gym court attendant?”
“Um.” Shit. He wanted the deets on why this train wreck was still working at a camp.
All the Damian trauma, Grandpa Newt, and getting fired exploded in my chest in one big ball.

I let out a sigh.

“That’s...stupidly tragic.” What else could I say?

He caught the ball and stopped, staring hard at me. “Stupidly tragic?”

I clipped my head in a nod. “Would you like more water? I can get that for you.”

Pretending like he’d asked for more water, I started walking away. I called over my shoulder, “I’ll get you more water.”

He stared at me the whole way as I went back out the door. I couldn’t see him, but I felt him. And then I remembered: we had just filled the table with water an hour ago.


Reese kept his distance from me the rest of the day. I worked like a normal employee, with only minimal fangirling still going on inside of me, but not as much. The whole ‘stupidly tragic’ thing put a damper on my inner fangirl.

But he watched me, and I couldn’t ignore the flutter going on in my stomach. And those weren’t there because of my fanatical fan-ways. They were there and growing because of a different reason, one that was more like me woman and he man, that sort of way.
And that was bad.

I could do nuts. Crazy was a nice firm wall that I kept around myself, shielding people from getting too close, or from me connecting as a real human being kinda way. It was a good firm wall locked around me, and the more he was watching me, the more that wall was getting dents in it, and that was the bad part.

Really bad. Like seriously, I’m stupid—sign me up for another stint of therapy kind of bad.

I did not need to deal with anyone on a real basis. Lucas was the most I’d tried in a year, and we all know how that ended.

Reese Forster made Grandpa Newt not even a blip.

But, I was walking from the main lounge, after dinner when he fell in step beside me, and for some reason no one clued Reese Forster in on how bad of an idea he was to my senses.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out earlier,” he said.

I almost faltered in my stride, but caught myself and kept going. I needed to deal with this problem before I was put in a mental clinic.

“Tell me something gross about yourself.”


We were rounding one of the outdoor courts. A couple of the other players were there, shooting hoops.

I figured, why not. “Because gross helps balance things out. I need balancing out. I’m starting to like you.”

He grabbed my arm, jerking me to a stop.

His head inclined toward me. His eyes keen. “Say again.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on. You’re a pro ball player. Women throwing themselves at you is not new. Why are you surprised by me?”

“It’s not that.” He gripped the back of his neck. “As a line, that was almost lame compared to some I’ve heard.” An easy grin fell back in place and he let go of his neck, nodding to me. “You can do better.”

This guy.

I—no words.

Then I blinked a few times, staring at him because he was right. I could do better, and that sort of thing wouldn’t even phase him.

“Okay. Fine.” I could do this.

This was weird.

I was still going with it. “Is your dick cold? Because I’ve got a warmer for it.”

He didn’t react, his face expressionless, then his smirk grew. “That’s it? We’re not at the Roxbury. Do better.” His smirk was growing cocky.

Jesus. He did not realize the stalker he was fanning here.

Some of the bouncing from the court lessened. The guys were starting to watch us. One guy broke from their group, heading over. I saw it from the corner of my eye.

I coughed. “I don’t know. How do girls usually hit on you?”

He shrugged. “Most just usually send me a nude in my messages. Or you know, practically being naked and just grabbing me.”

“That works?”

His smirk was almost rakish now. “If I have an itch and she’s got the warmer for my dick.”

That was so crude. My warmer got hotter.

“Yeah. Well. I’m trying to warn you away from me.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t scare me. Besides, I thought you were funny.” He relaxed, rolling his shoulders back.

“Reese,” Juan called out, halfway to us. He shot out a ball. It bounced once and Reese caught it without looking away from me.

“You think I’m less funny now that I’m being honest?”

He flexed his hands around the ball. “Maybe I’m missing the questions?”

Juan stopped just shy of joining our group and conversation. He was waiting.
And I was waiting too. No one missed my questions. I didn’t even miss my questions. I was waiting because I didn’t know how to process this conversation. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you messing with me?”

There was another burning feeling in me, moving up, spreading over my stomach, my chest, rising all the way to my neck. It was a burning feeling that I hadn’t felt in so long. I almost didn’t recognize it.

“Is that another attempt? ’Cause that’s lame too.” He smirked. “Thought you weren’t a camp groupie?”

Well…there was always going to be a fine line with that one, especially with him, only with him.

I closed my mouth and bit down hard. Juan Cartion was listening to our conversation, and not even hiding it. The Cruskinator was coming in too, his large hands on his hips.
I focused back on him, trying to ignore the other two and now a third was coming over. “We have an audience.”

Reese’s eyebrows pulled together, skimming a look over his teammates. “So?”

“So.” I coughed, smiling and dipping my head down. My hands were almost shaking. “I should get the cage open. Excuse me.”

I wasn’t running. I honestly wasn’t.

I wasn’t hiding.

I wasn’t avoiding.

I—just—I’d hid from life while I was with Damian, then hid for another year, and Lucas had been a crash and burn attempt at jump-starting my whole living again. This, though. This, with a minor conversation with Reese Forster (yes, I had to say his last name because his first name didn’t put it into the best perspective) had me feeling things I’d almost forgotten could happen in me.

I felt normal, for a small moment.

I was a girl crushing on a guy, not a fangirl gawking over a celebrity, and it hit me hard in the chest. Right there, making that thing pumping and skipping a beat.
That was what I’d been afraid of. 4.

We were heading down the trail when we passed a few of his teammates coming the other way.

I averted my gaze, pulling on his sweatshirt as he stopped.

“What’s up, Forster?”

“Not much. Heading back to shoot some hoops.”

I could feel their gazes.

Reese’s sweatshirt swamped me, but it smelled like him. A hint of sand and pine mixed together. Tugging his sleeves down, I balled them up and pretended to look at them.
“We bus out at ten, right?”

Reese nodded. “Yeah. Breakfast is at nine.”

That was news to me, though not the busing-out part. I knew they had another preseason game coming up.

Fists bumped between Reese and the others as they said their goodnights. We’d walked a few feet before someone murmured something, and the others began laughing.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I knew that laugh was about me.

“They think we’re fucking,” Reese commented.

I smothered a “WHAT?” and let out a strangled chuckle instead. “Yeah. No shit.” A second thought, “You think they’ll tell your coaches about me staying in your cabin?” Because I hadn’t said a word to the other staff. I didn’t want to hear any of the lectures I’d get. Plus I knew Keith would relish the chance to fire me.

“Nah. And to be honest, I don’t think the coaches would give a shit—as long as we show and do our jobs. And you’re not underage.” He laughed. “Juan told the guys about your cabin, but none of them are buying it. I figure it’s easier to let them think that than tell them truth. Is that okay with you?”

I looked up. “What’s the truth?”

He grinned, the look taking him from hot to HOT. “That you’ve become like an annoying gnat that I like for some reason.” He raised an eyebrow. “How’s that for the truth?”
Warmth flooded me. I could be a gnat.

We started forward again, and I kept his sleeves wrapped around my hands. “You could tell them the other truth.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“That I’m a stalker with polite boundaries.”

He groaned. “Stop with the stalking bullshit.” He swung, but his fist was more of a tap on my shoulder. It was a soft tap, one between friends.


We’d become friends.

I was okay with that.

Tijan is a New York Times Bestselling author that writes suspenseful and unpredictable novels. Her characters are strong, intense, and gut-wrenchingly real with a little bit of sass on the side. Tijan began writing later in life and once she started, she was hooked. She’s written multi-bestsellers including the Carter Reed Series, the Fallen Crest Series, and the Broken and Screwed Series among others. She is currently writing a new YA series along with so many more from north Minnesota where she lives with a man she couldn’t be without and an English Cocker she adores.