Perusing Princesses Presents - The Dating Game Day 1

The Dating Game
Robin Covington, Claudia Burgoa

The Worst Date by Robin Covington
My worst date was a blind date my mother set up for me when I was a junior in high school. The guy was a senior at another local Catholic High School and he needed a date for his senior prom. I didn’t know the guy and I didn’t want to go but my mom made me and it was terrible. The guy was strange, snorted when he talked, and immediately grew about four sets of grabby hands because in his world “blind date” meant “losing-his-virginity”. To make it worse, his friends at our table consisted of a guy who didn’t have a date and proceeded to eat the food off both plates at dinner and a couple who were getting married after graduation because she was pregnant and they spend the night pointing out the baby stuff they’d picked out from the JC Penney catalog. It was the only blind date I ever had.

About Robin Covington
Robin Covington, who NYT Best Selling authors, Robyn Carr and Carly Phillips, said was their new “auto-buy author”, writes sizzling hot contemporary and paranormal romance.
A Night of Southern Comfort, her best-selling debut novel was a 2012 finalist in the RT Book Reviews Reviewers Choice Awards, earned 4.5 stars and was touted by RT Book Reviews as bringing a “fresh, modern feel to the genre while still sticking to the things that get our adrenaline pumping — sex and danger”. When she’s not exploring the theme of fooling around and falling in love, she’s collecting tasty man candy, indulging in a little comic book geek love, and stalking Joe Manganiello.
Robin is a member of the Romance Writers of America, the Washington and Maryland Romance Writers, a faculty member at Romance University, a member of the Waterworld Mermaids, and a contributor to the Happy Ever After blog at USA Today. You can find Robin on her website, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter (@RobinCovington).
Robin lives in Maryland with her hilarious husband, brilliant children, and ginormous puppy.

Twitter: @RobinCovington
Worst Date Ever – Told by A.J. from Unlike Any Other by Claudia Burgoa (coming 3/5/2015)

How in the hell did they talk me into this?
No, why did I agree?
I stare at the brunette across the table who keeps blabbing about her ability to read minds—I think she’s still at that. No doubt her abilities only touch a few, because my mind keeps screaming at her: “Shut Up!”
Jacob and Ainsley are going to pay for this shit. No only Ainsley, she came up this idea of all going out on dates during Valentine’s Day. We humor her because these days she’s… explosive, sensitive and… we work hard so she stays in a zen state of mind.
Nonetheless, my worst mistake was letting my sister find me a date.
A wacko case that keeps yapping about aliens, her being a witch and having her ex-boyfriends under her spell because they broke up with her.
“Do you believe in werewolves?” she whispers leaning closer to the table. Those words drag my attention back at her. “Because I think I’m one of them.”

MJ: Worst date ever! You’re going to pay for this AJ!
AJ: Be pleasant!
JC: Can’t be worse than mine. My date wants to go to Vegas after this—to elope. Where did you find them Ainsley Janine?
AJ: My date wants the two of you to leave us alone. He’s taking away my phone, bye!

“It’s only a bite… and I’ll drink some of your blood. You’ll drink some of mine.” She smirks while licking her upper lip. “During the full moon, then we can be free and run along the forest. You’ll do it for me, right?”
At first sight, this girl gave me a good vibe. Her brown eyes; long brown locks with a timid smile emanated innocence. Nothing wrong with her, I even play with the idea of having a second date—if she’s a good fuck. Now …
“Can you excuse me for one second?” I tilt towards the restrooms, lift my napkin, set it on the table and jet off towards the exit. “I really have to go.”
Before you delusional-crazy-chick attack me or… whatever.
Crazy bitch!

About Meghan March:
About Author

Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had. 

About Claudia Burgoa

About Author

Born on the mystical day of October 30th in the not so mystical lands of Mexico City, Claudia grew up with a childhood that resembled a caffeine-injected soap opera. Seventeen years ago she ventured to the lands of her techie husband—a.k.a. the U.S.—with their offspring to start a new adventure.

She now lives in Colorado working as a CFO for a small IT company, managing her household filled with three confused dogs, said nerd husband, two daughters wrought with fandoms and a son who thinks he’s the boss of the house. To survive she works continually to find purpose for the voices flitting through her head, plus she consumes high quantities of chocolate to keep the last threads of sanity intact. 

The Date Game
Kate Canterbary, Carly Phillips

My Worst Date - Carly Phillips
This isn’t my worst date … but then again I don’t have all that many. I wasn’t exactly your serial dater.
I met a guy in college back in 1984, my sophomore year in college. I wore flash dance off the shoulder tops, had big hair (okay that hasn’t changed too much), and I had finally agreed to date him despite his reputation (he and his friends could scare any good girl off – and I was a good girl. Make that GOOD girl.)  Date day? February 14th
The weekend before I flew to Florida to visit my parents. My bright idea? Get tan before the big date. The end result? I looked awesome. Until that tan started to peel. Then crack. And I do mean crack since it was hard to actually talk. I kept moisturizing and praying … it wasn’t pretty (although he never said a word) … and in the end we were going out as a real couple.
End result? I married him. 25 years this past July. He’s my best friend and my rock so I guess things work out the way they were meant to be!

About Carly Phillips:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carly Phillips N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carly Phillips has written over 40 sexy contemporary romance novels that today's readers identify with and enjoy. After a successful 15 year career with various New York publishing houses, Carly is making the leap to Indie author, with the goal of giving her readers more books at a faster pace at a better price. Her Serendipity books will still finish up in January/February 2014 via Berkley as planned. Carly lives in Purchase, NY with her family, two nearly adult daughters and two crazy dogs who star on her Facebook Fan Page and website. She's a writer, a knitter of sorts, a wife, and a mom. In addition, she's a Twitter and Internet junkie and is always around to interact with her readers. You can find all information about Carly at her website and other social media sites:

My Worst Date…from Shannon Walsh – The Walsh Series by Kate Canterbary

My worst date? Ha. That's a good one. These days, it seems like each date is orders of magnitude worse than the one before it.
There was the guy who arrived with scrambled egg all over his shirt and tie. He claimed he'd been running late that morning, and couldn't change. It didn't bother him that he looked like he'd lived through a food fight. I walked away from that harbinger of horrors after one drink.
There was the married guy who failed to mention his nuptial situation until his phone vibrated across the table and the name on his screen read 'WIFE.' I stared at the pretty brunette's photo for a moment before wishing him luck with spineless infidelity.
There was the urban farmer who was definitely growing and selling weed to keep his baby kale business going. I gave him my defense attorney friend's business card, and told him to call when he was arrested.
There was the little boy who added at least ten years to the age on his online dating profile and didn't appear capable of sprouting facial hair if his life depended on it. He was dressed for a frat party, and smelled like he'd bathed in Axe body spray and then rolled around the subway platform after a Red Sox game. He ordered a green apple martini, and I silently prayed for the apocalypse when he was carded but couldn't locate his ID.
There was the rich homeless dude. Apparently, he determined that he spent the vast majority of his time traveling for work as a venture capitalist, and didn't like wasting money on an apartment. When he hasn't on the road, he hopped between his friends' apartments. Oh, and the beds of women he casually screwed. Once I determined he didn't have a place to stay that weekend, I asked him to delete my number.
But I keep at it. One Manolo in front of the other.
Kate Canterbary doesn't have it all figured out, but this is what she knows for sure: spicy-ass salsa and tequila solve most problems, living on the ocean--Pacific or Atlantic--is the closest place to perfection, and writing smart, smutty stories is a better than any amount of chocolate. She started out reporting for an indie arts and entertainment newspaper back when people still read newspapers, and she has been writing and surreptitiously interviewing people--be careful sitting down next to her on an airplane--ever since. Kate lives on the water in New England with Mr. Canterbary and the Little Baby Canterbary, and when she isn't writing sexy architects, she's scheduling her days around the region's best food trucks.

Underneath It All

Underneath It All - The Walsh Series #1 
If I had known I'd have a hot architect balls deep inside of me before the end of the weekend, I'd have made time for a pedicure. Also, a little chat about not losing my shit at all the wrong moments. 
Hindsight was a bitch, and karma…well, I didn't know her story yet. 

Meet Lauren Halsted. 
It's all the little things—the action plans, the long-kept promises—that started falling apart when my life slipped into controlled chaos. 

After I fell ass-over-elbow into Matthew Walsh's arms. 

I couldn't decide whether I wanted to run screaming or rip his pants off, and most days I wanted a little of both. If I was being honest with myself, it was rip his pants off, ride him like a workhorse, and then run screaming. 

Meet Matthew Walsh. 
A rebellious streak ran through Lauren Halsted. It was fierce and unrelentingly beautiful, and woven through too many good girl layers to count, and she wasn't letting anyone tell her what to do. 

Unless, of course, she was naked. 

She wasn't looking for me and I sure as shit wasn't looking for her, but we found each other anyway and now we were locked in a battle of wills, waiting for the other to blink. 

Sometimes the universe conspires to bring people together. Other times, it throws them down a flight of stairs and leaves them in a bruised and bloodied heap.

The Space Between

The Space Between - The Walsh Series #2
Some lines are meant to be crossed. 

That hair. 

That fucking hair. 

It was everywhere, always, and I wanted to tangle my fingers in those dark curls and pull. 

And that would be fine if she wasn't my apprentice. 

Andy Asani was nothing like I expected. She was exotic and scary-brilliant, and the slightest murmur from those lips sent hot, hungry lust swirling through my veins. Outside my siblings, she was the only person I could name who shared my obsession with preserving Boston's crumbling buildings. 

My wants were few: good eats, tall boots, sweaty yoga, interesting work. One incredibly hot architect with the most expressive hazel eyes I ever encountered and entirely too much talent in and out of the bedroom wasn't part of the original plan. Apparently he was part of the package. 

Wine was my rabbi and vodka was my therapist, and I needed plenty of both to survive my apprenticeship. Especially with Patrick Walsh leaving love notes in the form of bite marks all over my body. 

*This is the second book in The Walshes Series, though it reads as a stand-alone novel.

The Dating Game
Avery Flynn, Jillian Neal

Worst Date or Best Date: You Decide
By Avery Flynn
What is the worst date you ever had? 
I had to ponder that for a while…for a good LONG while because crappy dates were my pre-married specialty. Seriously. I could have gone with Mr. Arm Porn who’s middle name was Not So Bright. Or I could have gone with the bartender *cough* bartenders *cough*. But in the end I had to go with the date that never was. 
 In college I had a huge thing for a certain ginger in one of my classes … yes, I’m a sucker for gingers. There was tons of flirting and a date was set and then he ditched me. He just never showed to pick me up. Ow! 
Yes, let’s all say that together: OW! 
Luckily, my friends are pretty kickass and took me out anyway. Later on, he told me that he suddenly remembered he had a girlfriend and didn’t know how to tell me. *insert epic eye roll here* After that, I realized him ditching me was me dodging a bullet. 

About Avery Flynn:
Avery Flynn has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip.
She fell in love with romance while reading Johanna Lindsey’s Mallory books. It wasn’t long before Avery had read through all the romance offerings at her local library. Needing a romance fix, she turned to Harlequin’s four books a month home delivery service to ease the withdrawal symptoms. That worked for a short time, but it wasn’t long before the local book stores’ staffs knew her by name.
Avery was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.


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