Gym or Chocolate? A feel-good romantic comedy from authors Stuart Reardon & Jane Harvey-Berrick, is available now! + MY REVIEW

Gym or Chocolate? A feel-good romantic comedy from the authors of Undefeated and Model Boyfriend, Stuart Reardon & Jane Harvey-Berrick,
is available now!


Available in KindleUnlimited

Career girl and radio host hotshot Cady Callahan has never met a chocolate she didn’t love. She has curves and doesn’t care.

She’s shocked when a raffle ticket bought to support a veterans charity means she’s won a year’s membership to Body Tech, an exclusive Manhattan gym, where all the top athletes train and all the A-list actors go to get in shape for their action roles. She’s also won a personal trainer in the shape of far too tantalizing Rick Roberts.

Rick is less impressed when Cady’s arrival leads to a media circus. The retired British rugby ace runs a serious training facility, and he definitely doesn’t have time for anyone who doesn’t want to work hard.

When curvy Cady challenges him to train her to run a marathon by the end of the year, it seems a solution to both their problems. If … when she drops out of training, his gym will go back to normal.

But Cady isn’t planning on losing the bet—she just wasn’t counting on any complications. And surly Rick is very complicated. And as tempting as the tastiest treat.

Download your copy of Gym or Chocolate? or read in in KindleUnlimited

Amazon: Universal | U.S | U.K

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I laughed my ass off! I started and couldn’t put it down until I finished this fun read with serious issues such as fat shaming and the damage social media attacks can cause to reputations, business and maybe most of all, someone’s self image and feelings. I love everything about Cady, the big gal that’s up for any challenge. She is just what you want in a heroine. Funny, smart, sexy; beautiful inside and out, but most of all a really nice human. When she meets the grouchy, hot hunk, gym owner Rick, it’s far from love at first sight. Their relationship starts out rather contentious but as he trains her to run the NYC marathon and they get to know each other a transformation takes place but not without lots of missteps and interference from some nasty media hos. I loved Cady’s response to the hate and her outstanding character and smarts shine through. I loved the grumpy, hardcore fitness trainer and hot Brit Rick. He’s got his demons but underneath he’s a standup guy and panty melting. Speaking of panty melting…the athlete turned model that is Rick’s friend Vin. He’s goofy, irreverent and hot! And then there’s Cady’s lovely friend Grace. The gals have a wonderful friendship much like Rick and Vin’s. Always supportive and there for each other. The interaction between Cady and Rick at the beginning had me in stitches and laughing so hard at Cady’s antics. The serious turn about half way that threw me a little and seemed to drag on a bit and didn’t shine the best light on my man Rick so I took off a half star much to my chagrin. It got a tad preachy at times. It got back on the right track quickly and I was laughing and tooting again at Cady’s hilarious behavior and Rick’s attempts at remaining stoic in the face of Cady and Vin’s tomfoolery. The focus on veterans is tremendous and near and dear to my heart as well as exercising/training being about health more than body image. The writing is terrific and this story fast became one of my favorite rom-coms. I can’t wait for Vin and Grace’s story. This had a slow-build romance that culminated into a sexy, funny fuck/food fest that had me laughing and swooning. There’s nothing like combining food with sexy times! The combination of English and American wordplay was fantastic and hilarious. I was so stoked to see the phrase ‘fair t’middlin’. It’s one of my favorite sayings inherited from my old Southern relatives and rarely, if every, hear it. This is my first read by these authors and I’ve already scooped up their other stories because I enjoyed this one so much and have to read more from these two fabulous authors.


© 2019 Stuart Reardon and Jane Harvey-Berrick
All rights reserved.


I set off down the jogging track at a gentle pace, not much more than a fast walk. I tried to keep up the general conversation to take her mind off running, but she was puffing and panting so badly, it wasn’t possible. 


Besides, her tits were jiggling all over the place and I could tell that she wasn’t wearing a sports bra. Hell, it didn’t even look like she was wearing a bra at all. It was totally distracting and even though I tried to look away, I couldn’t help staring—they were so in my face with a momentum all of their own. Jesus, they were even moving in different directions. I’d seen strippers perfect that move but never someone just out jogging. How the hell did that work?


I was so mesmerized, I strayed over the dividing line between joggers and cyclists.


“Get out of my lane, asswipe! Aaaagh!


But it was too late. Distracted and off balance, I stumbled, taking out a cyclist riding in the opposite direction. I was a big guy and I sent him sprawling to the floor, landing on top of him and his bike.


Cady looked as though she wanted to laugh but she was too out of breath.

She stood to one side, taking a breather, as I apologized profusely, lifting his bike off him and helping the guy up. He rode away muttering under his breath about suing your British ass the next time.


“I’m glad you didn’t hurt him … much,” said Cady, but oh thank God we’re taking a break.”


And she pulled out a KitKat from her running sock.


What the…?


“Rick, can I ask you a question?” she mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit and chocolate.


“Sure, I sighed, eyeing the evidence of her chocolate habit.


“Were you looking at my boobs?”


My eyes shot up to meet hers. Busted.


“No! No! No! Definitely not. No.”


I was lying.


“Are you sure?” she teased. “I think you were!”


I felt my cheeks redden.


“No, I wasn’t looking at you.”


“So, do you always mow down cyclists coming towards you? Just admit it, I know you were looking.”


“Bloody hell, Cady! It’s hard not to notice!” I exploded. You were jogging in one direction and your … chest … was jogging in another direction—it’s like there are three of us out here! It’s not professional! You should be wearing a sports bra.


She turned purple, laughing so hard that her eyes were streaming, and then she started choking on her KitKat.


Great, now my client was going to die laughing in the middle of Central Park.


Amazon kindle unlimited



I don’t remember the question, the answer is always chocolate.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

I never met a chocolate I didn’t love.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

I was never humble. I was a kickass woman.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

Did someone wake up with a pineapple stuck in his rectum or is it just the way you walk?

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

I had a great job, fabulous friends, as much sex as I wanted (thank you, Tinder), an apartment that cost me an arm and two legs but had an awesome view almost to Central Park, and I was comfortable in my own skin.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

There’s nothing like a man saluting you first thing in the morning while he’s wearing nothing but his dog tags and a big smile. Oorah!

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

If you wait for a man to give you a compliment, you can be waiting for a frosty day in Hell, and frankly, life is too short.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

Nothing sells sexy like confidence.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

I was a big woman, curvy, lots of wobbly bits, all tits, ass and attitude. Most men didn’t know how to handle me.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

Don’t be a bitch should be the 11th Commandment.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

Honest to God, I needed to be in bed with the lights off, phone off and Kindle off by 9pm or I was toast. Today, I was the crumbs at the bottom of the toaster. I was the burnt pieces that you have to scrape off…

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

“Spit it out!” said no man, ever.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

I’m a professional … and I still want to kick her scrawny ass!

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

“I don’t know any woman who doesn’t see flaws when she looks at herself. We’re all so busy deciding that we’re too tall, too short, too thin, too fat to remember that we’re unique human beings, and we all deserve to be treated with respect. We’re all awesome.”

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

“Aw, honey! I’m not fat, I’m just so darn sexy it overflows.”

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

“So, Mr. Roberts,” she said formally. “What are you going to do with this body?” and she gave me a flirty smile. “I’m all about the TAA—tits, ass and attitude.”

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

Raising your heart rate and getting sweaty for just 11 minutes three times a week is going to benefit you.”

“Like sex?”

“Only if you’re dating the wrong men,”

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

If this was a Manhattan fairytale, I was the beautiful 220lb princess who’d escaped the ogre’s lair. And in my fairytale, I didn’t need a white knight to save me, just a sharp, pointy weapon that I could use on Dick.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

“I don’t go on Tinder to look for date material—it’s simply a fun alternative to self-love. I just think it’s important to try having sex before I rush into dating.”

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

The man had a stick up his ass and a serious humor bypass. That must have been an interesting surgery.

I didn’t like pain. Pain was bad. I’d be a terrible submissive—I’d be yelling ‘red’ before he whipped out a blindfold.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

There was a reason women like me didn’t skip—my boobs were like an executive toy—they had kinetic energy all of their own.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

If you can survive high school, you could probably survive the apocalypse with a protractor, chewing gum and a roll of cellotape.

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

“I maintain my big ass so more people can kiss it, honey.”

*~ *~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *

“A recent study found that women with a little extra weight live longer than the men who mention it,” I stated sharply, eyeing him with the enthusiasm of a patient preparing for colonic irrigation.

Stuart and Jane’s Fitness Journeys


I’ve had four major surgeries as a result of my rugby career—three operations to repair torn Achilles tendons, and a torn rotor cuff in my shoulder that ultimately ended my professional rugby career.

Coming back from injury and surgery is a long, slow process. Keeping a level of fitness during recovery isn’t easy, and rehab after is tough. So for me, exercise and working out at the gym is more than just getting fit, it’s a way of life.

And then there’s the completely different issue of getting lean for a photoshoot like for this cover—especially when your co-author is a bad influence and travels everywhere with chocolate. I really enjoy a good quality dark chocolate, and yep, I had to cut that out to drop a few pounds for the cover shoot. Feel my pain?!

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For years (decades), I told myself that I didn’t like gyms and even though I joined several with the best intentions, I stayed away. I lived in London and walked four miles a day to and from Tube stations, so that seemed like enough. I often had an aching back and shoulders, and sometimes sciatic pain, too. I put it down to having a desk job, even though I was only in my twenties.

When I moved from London to live by the ocean, I began a love affair with swimming—and there’s nothing like swimming in a cold ocean! I walked my little dog every day and felt better, but with turning to writing full-time, there were still a lot of hours spent at a desk.

Then I got really sick. The death of my father was a stressful time, as you can imagine, but it became worse when it triggered Rheumatoid Arthritis in me. Suddenly, I was using walking sticks to get around, sometimes a wheelchair, and often crippled with pain. All the usual drugs helped, and I began to regain mobility slowly. But the turning point for me was joining a gym, and realising what I’d been missing out on all these years.

Nothing happens overnight, and it was a process of simply keeping going two to three times a week to feel the benefits—and I did. I was happy, my family was happy, even my doctor was happy.

Exercise doesn’t cure RA, but it certainly helps.

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