Hi, I’m Taylor Delong and so excited to be a part of this week’s Throwback Thursday. I’m a contemporary romance author who writes books with all the feels and characters you’d want to be friends with. While they may be fictional, they sure have their share of real life problems.
I’m a mom to two girls (13 and 11), and we live in Connecticut. By day, I’m a nanny to three. I’m a self proclaimed ice cream snob, lover of pizza, peanut butter, and roller coasters.
I published my debut book, Waiting on Forever, in January 2017. Thankfully the characters who live in my head never seem to stop talking, giving me endless ideas for books.
You can read all my books in Kindle Unlimited.
Social Media links:
Email list signup: https://bookhip.com/CRBQWN
Reader’s Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/380358595866106
Facebook author page: www.facebook.com/authortaylordelong
Brew Play Love
Brew Play Love is the story of Liam and Jenna. It’s full of witty banter, an adorable meet cute, Words with Friends, and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
WordFreak: Damn, I totally missed that reference to the TV show. I’m usually better than this. Sorry for being a slacker.
WordFreak: Okay, who’s the slacker now? Come on. I bet you’ve got a word to play.
WordFreak: Seriously? Nothing? It’s been three days. Those high schoolers tormenting you again?
JavaGirl135: Feeling neglected? No one else in your life to keep you company? Oh my gosh, this isn’t really true is it?
WordFreak: I’ve got plenty of people to keep me entertained in the real world. As for the virtual world, sad to say it, but you’re my bestie.
JavaGirl135: Is that really a thing? Virtual besties. Like I hardly even know you. I could be an axe murderer luring you into games of Words with Friends with ulterior motives.
WordFreak: Shaking. In. My. Boots. How would you even find me?
JavaGirl135: Never underestimate the power of a girl on a mission. I’m sure there’s a trail of breadcrumbs here somewhere in our messages.
WordFreak: I’ll be more tightlipped now. Make your move.
JavaGirl135: Finally! A reprieve from your smart mouth. I didn’t think the day would ever come.
WordFreak: Yo, bestie. How’d the date go? I’m in suspense here. Oh, and play your word.
JavaGirl135: I’m not one to kiss and tell. Especially to someone I’ve never met. Suffice it to say, there’s another date planned.
WordFreak: Here’s where I squeal. If I were a girl. Which I’m not. But happy for you.
JavaGirl135: Trust me, I did squeal. Several times. I’m happy for me.
WordFreak: Happy enough to play the word happy. Guess when you play SEX I’ll know what you’ve been up to.
JavaGirl135: Too far, Freak. Too. Far. Plus, you’ve played SEX in a handful of our games. Should I assume you’re getting it on the regular?
WordFreak: ASSUME nothing.
JavaGirl135: Thanks for confirming.
WordFreak: I walked right into that one.
JavaGirl135: Sure did. Hang in there. I’m sure it’ll happen soon for you.
WordFreak: Thanks for the vote of confidence.
JavaGirl135: It’s what I’m here for, bestie.
Loving Rebel has been compared to Romeo and Juliet, just without the tragic ending. It’s
about never giving up on your first love. Even if you have to crash her wedding to a different
man to do it.
Kyle, already wound tight from all the emotions of the day, stops walking, a single tear
falling down her cheek. It’s not the first one; she bears the evidence of tracks all down her face.
In that moment, all I want to do is wrap her in my arms, to give her the comfort she needs. Hell, I
really need to get her away from this awful situation.
Kyle glances my way. “You told her?” Her tiny voice can barely be heard, and the
distressing expression on her face makes her look so much younger.
Not having fully dealt with the earlier news about the baby, I’m still reeling. “Rebs, you
didn’t?” I throw it back to her. Of all the things not to tell your sister, this is what she leaves out?
Oh, and the baby news.
“James, you need to step out for a moment.”
Somehow, Jessa has managed to calm herself to deliver the comment. But James doesn’t
move. Looking to him, teeming with anger, he sits and huffs out small breaths. However, he
doesn’t understand Jessa’s words, so I help him out.
“Dude, she’s talking to you.” For the full effect, I point to him.
He starts to laugh, but it dies on his lips when he takes in the girls’ expressions. He’s on his
feet in no time, getting all up in Jessa’s face. “You’re serious? I have to leave?” He whips his
head between me and Jessa. “When will the two of you get it? Katherine. Is. Mine.” He spits out
the words without taking a breath. “She’s got my ring, she’s having my baby. Mine.” He turns
his attention to Kyle. Before he speaks, he softens not only his look, but his tone, too. “Baby, you
need me to stay?” His tone is sickeningly sweet. How the hell can she stand to listen to it?
I force my focus back to Kyle. James misses it, but I have to hide my smirk as she mouths
“F*ck off” before saying out loud, “Give me ten minutes.” Her tone almost matches his, but my
ears pick up on the undertones of anger underneath the sweet.
James eyes each of us carefully before leaning in to Kyle to speak in her ear. I don’t miss the
exaggerated eye roll she gives him at whatever he’s saying. I love her so much. Even though
she’s standing in a white gown, prepared to marry someone else, I freaking love her. All
thoughts of giving in, of giving her up fly out the window with one eye roll in her fiancé’s
F*ck this shit. He ain’t ever getting her. She’s mine, and I’m taking her back right freaking
The Magic of Us
The Magic of Us is the first book in Murrtham’s Tree Farm series but can be read as a
standalone. It’s the story of single mom Nellie Sturges and “doesn’t do kids” West Murrtham.
It’s set on the Murrtham’s Christmas Tree Farm.
“There are benefits to being friends, Nell.” He wiggles his eyebrows, using the shortened
version of my name on purpose to rile me up.
“Don’t even tease, West. It’s been too long for me. Way too fucking long.” I sigh, not
even wanting to think about how long it’s actually been.
“Say about 18 months, give or take?”
“That was some mad fast math you just did in your head.”
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Lucky guess.”
Our conversation pauses with the delivery of our food. With just the first bite, I
remember everything I love about this place and vow to come back again sooner rather than
After licking our plates clean, I’m stuffed, but when West suggests chocolate cake, I
jump on board. Day three isn’t quite as bad as day two, but I don’t turn down chocolate cake.
“You want your own piece?” he asks as the waiter stands there waiting.
“Um, we can share. Unless you don’t share, and in that case, I’ll have my own.”
“Sharing isn’t the issue. Didn’t know how much of the piece you were going to eat.
’Cause I want more than half.”
I turn to the waiter. “Two pieces of the chocolate cake, please.”
“Anything else?” he asks.
“One plate and one spoon,” West directs. To me, he says, “So, back to these benefits.”
“The benefits must include you wearing gray sweatpants and me getting to sleep in your
bed.” Those damn gray sweatpants. I shake my head, trying to rid the mental image of him
“I was thinking more along the lines of actual sex, but those can be arranged too.”
“Oh, I thought sex was a given.” I shrug, wondering what he thought “friends with
benefits” meant. I mean, I’ve never really had a friend with benefits. And while I’m willing to go
this route with West, I can’t say I don’t want more with him. If I had to guess, the sexual
chemistry’s going to be off the charts; I can already sense that with the few times we’ve
interacted in more than a “friendly” way. I don’t think I only want the sex with him, but I want
more than a friendship too.
All of this over thinking is so unlike me. In the past, I’ve been known to jump into bed
with strangers, or in the case of Martin, get knocked up and married, all without this much
analyzing of the situation. Gah, West and his stupid “magic” has me all tied up in knots. There’s
a very high possibility if he asked me back to his place now to start the “benefits” portion of our
friendship, I’d say yes. Hell yes, without another thought.
The Unscripted Duet: Love Unscripted; Life Unscripted
Junior and Emmy have a near-perfect life: great family, two kids, awesome
relationship—with ALL the sex! When Emmy’s twin brother, Luke, asks her to do him the
ultimate favor, her selflessness really shines through as she readily agrees.
If you like stories with all the feels, emotional roller coasters, strong family bonds, and adorable
children, be sure to check it out.
“Anything you haven’t thought of?”
He puts his fingers to his temple, thinking it over for a minute. “Um, Daddy mentioned
something about sucking.” My eyes go wide at his comment, mentally berating my husband, but
Tre nonchalantly raises his shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe he got us lollipops or popsicles as a
“Junior,” I call out bitingly, trying to gauge where he is. Addressing Tre, I tell him, “Go
watch a show while I talk to Daddy and get ready.” He scoots off, not having to be told twice to
sit and enjoy a TV show. “Hey, where you at?” In the kitchen, I find a picnic basket all ready to
go. A sweet gesture, for sure. Which reminds me, I have to text Luke and ask to borrow his
“You beckoned?” Junior’s voice bellows, as he comes in from the living room. I put
aside the fact that he’s in gray sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt. And his stupid backwards hat. For
the moment, at least.
“You made mention of ‘sucking’ to our son. What the hell, Junior?” I swat at his arms
angrily, then realize that was dumb on my part. Bicep muscles. Junior’s got big ones.
“It kinda slipped out.”
“Right. How did that conversation go again?” Do not look directly at his face, Emmy. Be
strong. Resist his charm. I fail, miserably, at following my own directions. “Never mind. I have
to go get ready for the game. Hope you have some suckers for your son for a treat since now he’s
Making my way upstairs, the man follows me. This is what he does, distraction at its
finest. I do my best to ignore him, the way he looks, the way he smells, as I start taking off my
clothes so I can change into jeans and my football hoodie.
“I was talking to myself, and he overheard me. All I said was, ‘Emmy better get her suck
on tonight.’ He didn’t get it.”
I can’t look at him, lest I’ll be more distracted and I’m on a time crunch, so I can’t assess
fully whether he’s telling the truth or not. Most likely he is; he does talk to himself quite a bit,
sharing his innermost thoughts, which are always of a sexual nature. It weirded me out the first
time I heard him do it, but as I got used to it, it just became one of his quirks I (mostly) adore.
Except when he does it in front of the kids.
When his words sink in, I realize exactly what he said. Turning on my heels, I demand,
“Whoa, why do I have to get my suck on tonight? Like I owe you for something?”
Damn him. Foiling my need to get changed with his words. As if that’s not enough, he
stalks closer, one slow step at a time. I try to signal him to stop with my eyes, shooting daggers
his way; however, he’s undeterred, ignoring the shade I’m throwing him.
My hands land on my hips, standing my ground. Ahem, attempting to stand my ground
and ward off his advances. I have a game I need to get ready for, and this little interruption is
hindering that. Plus, no clue where my daughter actually is.
“Where’s your daughter? House is awfully quiet.” I intend for my words to halt his
movements, but the man multi-tasks so well. Usually, I’m appreciative of it except in times like
this when he uses it against me.
Spinning me around, he answers, “She’s playing in the playroom.”
I go to respond, something about how he knows she’ll still be there when he goes back to
check on her, but every coherent thought leaves my brain. I want to blame it on pregnancy brain,
and not for the kisses my very sexy husband trails down my neck. The most I can manage is a
breathy, “Junior.” Stupidly, my body begins to fall back, leaning on Junior for support, as my
pulse quickens, my body betraying my mind.
“How about you get your suck on before the game?”
My eyes fly open at his words, finally breaking through and putting a stop to his attempts
at seduction. I pull myself out of his reach, much to his chagrin, and lock myself in the bathroom
to finish getting ready.
“So, that’s a no for right now?” he calls through the door.
“Correct. But maybe if you let me get ready, I’ll get it on tonight. You did pack that
awesome picnic dinner for us and all,” I coo back to him.
Can’t Buy My Love
Can’t Buy My Love is part of the Girl Power Romance Collection. Brennan Scott is a force
to be reckoned with, especially if you’re in need of a new car. She meets Dillon Knight in an
adorable and somewhat awkward meet cute...in the furniture store of all places. More
awkwardness ensues along the way.
My eyes continue to roam over to Brennan’s table. Only once do I catch her spying on me.
There’s a connection through the restaurant, over however many tables separating us, a zing of
excitement as our gazes lock.
Before I realize what’s happening, she’s smiling at me, getting out of her chair and walking
purposefully over to my table. Her steps are unsteady, and she has to stop and regain her balance
on two empty tables. Whatever she’s had to drink is clearly affecting her. Can’t imagine it takes
much to get her past tipsy considering her small stature.
As she approaches my table, my palms start to sweat, nerves at seeing her again—especially
unplanned like this—whirling around inside me. “Be cool, Knight,” I mumble under my breath,
not wanting to make a fool of myself.
She wastes no time taking a seat, ungracefully with a small giggle-snort. Damn, and I
thought she was adorable already. Thankfully my dick is hidden under the table, and Brennan
isn’t privy to what’s going on in my pants.
“How’s the cake? Everything you didn’t realize you wanted?” A twinkle gleams in her
stormy eyes. Although tonight, because of her attire—which isn’t gray—or the alcohol, her eyes
are more greenish and definitely glazed over.
I lean in close to her before I speak, catching a whiff of her sweet scent. I didn’t notice it too
much at the dealership nor at the furniture store, too busy trying to figure out her deal.
“How drunk are you?” I ask.
My question surprises her, her eyes widening as she leans in closer to me. Almost
immediately, another fit of giggles comes over her. “So frigging drunk, you don’t even know.”
Her words are somewhat slurred, but she’s able to maintain some semblance of control.
As we sit here, our faces so close I can smell the fruity liquor on her breath, I want to know
everything about her. Starting with how she’s getting home. Because yeah, I am that guy, the one
who concerns himself with making sure pretty drunk—or is it drunk, pretty—girls get home safe.
“You didn’t drive here, right?””
This time, instead of surprise filtering over her features, a look of confusion stares back at
me. When my words filter in and she grasps their meaning, her head shakes. “Uber. Needed to
get drunk. Lots of questions.” She hiccups, her hand flying to her mouth to cover it up.
I stifle my chuckle. Cute as she is sober, Drunk Brennan is simply endearing.
“Okay good.” I pull back just a bit, wondering what happens next. Spying the plate with the
remnants of the cake, I figure the least I can do is answer her question. “Cake was good. Thanks
for it. Dessert wasn’t on my radar tonight, but oddly enough, it was the perfect addition to the
Besides seeing you here, I don’t add aloud.
She motions me with her finger, back to the closeness we shared a moment ago. “Becca told
me to do it. She answered all my questions.” Her head whips around to the other woman at her
table, who’s preoccupied with her phone. Wanting her attention, Brennan whisper-shouts,
“Becca, he liked it.” She gives an enthusiastic thumbs up when Becca looks up. Thank goodness
there aren’t many other diners in the restaurant to disturb.
Satisfied with her reaction, Brennan turns back to me. She falls back against the chair,
catching herself at the last minute from falling off. My arms instinctively reach out toward her,
but when she begins to laugh again, I can tell she’s got it. It’s also a signal that maybe it’s time to
cut her off, put her in an Uber and send her home.
Except, no. Mackie would murder me if I actually let this girl go home in an Uber, if I
wasn’t at least the man she raised me to be and made sure she got home safe. Even if that means
taking an Uber to her house and then back to the restaurant to retrieve my truck.