Title: Love at The Bluebird
Authors: Aurora Rose Reynolds & Jessica Marin
Publisher: Boom Factory Publishing LLC
Publisher: Boom Factory Publishing LLC
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: January 31, 2020
Release Date: January 31, 2020
Blurb
With a hit song
sitting at number one on the country music charts, Gavin McNeer thought he
finally had everything he ever wanted.
All it takes is one
look from the mesmerizing woman sitting in the front row at one of his shows
and a brief encounter to make him realize just what he’s been missing. Even
though he’s been burnt in the past, Gavin puts his inhibitions aside and his
heart on the line to earn the trust of the woman who could be his everything.
Working in an
industry where relationships start and end in the blink of an eye, Alyson
Dawson has made it her mission not to get mixed up with musicians, no matter
how good-looking they are. Keeping her focus on her blossoming career and
clients, Aly doesn’t even have time to date much less fall in love. That is
until she meets Gavin, a man who changes everything with one smoldering look.
Just when these two
begin to settle into their new relationship, Aly is asked to do something that
may require her to choose between the career she’s building and the man she’s
falling in love with. To make things worse, Gavin’s ex decides to add a touch
of drama to an already delicate situation.
Will their love
survive, or become just another sad love song?
Aurora Rose Reynolds is a New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street
Journal bestselling author whose wildly popular series include Until, Until
Him, Until Her, Underground Kings and Shooting Stars.
Her writing career started in an attempt to get the outrageously alpha men who resided in her head to leave her alone and has blossomed into an opportunity to share her stories with readers all over the world.
Her writing career started in an attempt to get the outrageously alpha men who resided in her head to leave her alone and has blossomed into an opportunity to share her stories with readers all over the world.
Jessica Marin
Jessica Marin began her love affair with books at a young age
from the encouragement of her Grandma Shirley. She has always dreamed of being
an author and finally made her dreams of writing happily ever after stories a
reality. She currently resides in Tennessee with her husband, children and fur
babies. When she’s not hanging out with her family, she loves watching a good
movie, going dancing with the ladies, sniffing essential oils, daydreaming of
warm beaches, and world peace.
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ALLAUTHOR
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Publisher
Aurora Rose
Reynolds and her husband, Sedaka Reynolds, created Boom Factory Publishing to
use their experiences to expand and promote upcoming and existing indie
authors.
With over five years in the industry, and millions of books sold worldwide, we know what it takes to become a successful author and we will use this knowledge to take our authors to the next level.
“As a successful hybrid author in this ever evolving industry, I know that you’re only as successful as the team that is promoting you!” – Aurora Rose Reynolds
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Giveaway
God I love going back to Vermont and catching up with the Shipley siblings. I think Sarina Bowen has just got me so hooked on this whole series. Every single time I pick one of these books up my mind just races in all of these different directions while my heart just melts.
I honestly can't really remember much about Dylan. No offense to him but he was just one of the background characters in his siblings stories and I was so invested in their story I overlooked him back there. I do remember Chastity but only because I was so impressed with the bravery it would take to flee the only home she's known and flee into the unknown.
And my opinion of her bravery was only reinforced in this book. She was so inexperienced in the world but she was determined to live her life and not wallow in the past. I loved that she wasn't afraid to be different but she didn't want sympathy she just wanted to live life happy and free.
Dylan was a little harder for me. I loved him even when I wanted to slap him. He was such a clueless idiot but he wasn't thoughtless and for me that made all the difference. He went through his own tragedies but he dealt with them by laughing and having a good time so no-one knew how deeply everything affected him until he couldn't deal with it.
And while I loved their story and their connection I also loved the rest of the story just as much. I can't believe Leah and Isaac are leaving and going back to Wyoming. I need more of that story. I need the cult escapees and an update on the people still at Paradise Ranch. I also need Rickie's story yesterday but I am hoping we will get all of that in Daphne's story.
I hate to get to the end of this book and have to wait to get my next installment even if they are seriously worth the wait.
Well it's honestly no surprise how much I loved that book. It was classic Aurora Rose Reynolds with a musical twist. Not to take away from Jessica Marin because she just became an author for me to stalk after reading the magic these two created together.
Gavin was everything I expect from a leading man from Boom Publishing. He had jealous and possessive down. And I loved that he went out of his way to make Aly feel special and to let her know he was thinking about her. Along with his very public declarations to make sure she and everyone else knew he was all in.
But Aly was perfection on her own. She trusted how she felt about Gavin and she went with it. And even when things weren't going well she took a step back and thought it through and trusted in what she believed and felt. I loved that about her. Yeah she was upset and she went off to regroup but she didn't blow things out of proportion or automatically assume that everything was as it seemed. She just sat back and processed it.
Naturally the chemistry was burning off the pages. I felt their connection and I loved the fact they didn't pay attention to anyone else's thoughts on how they should feel or act. They were so great together, I inhaled this book and now I just wish I could read it for the first time all over again.
"Bishop and Stevie's relationship is pure, raw, can't-take-your-eyes-off-the-the-page kindle crack. One of my favorite books by this brilliant author." - LJ Shen, USA Today bestselling author
A Favor for a Favor, all-new standalone slow burn romance from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting, is available now!
A new stand-alone romance about trading favors, battling wills, and winning love.
When I joined Seattle’s NHL expansion team, I thought it was the start of something great. But nothing ever goes the way you expect. Take my introduction to my new neighbor. She came rolling in on the hot mess express at midnight, making a racket while she tried to get into my team captain’s apartment. Did I mention that he’s married to a woman who definitely was not her?
Imagine my surprise when I end up with an injury that has me out of the game for weeks, and she’s the one to offer to help me. I should probably add that she’s not the captain’s mistress. She’s his sexy, pastel-haired younger sister.
So we come up with an arrangement: she rehabs me so that I can get back on the ice sooner, and she can add a professional athlete that isn’t her brother to her client list. Seems simple enough. As long as I can keep my hands to myself and my hormones in check.
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Excerpt
She makes me lift my arm and drapes it over her shoulder. She’s incredibly small compared to me. She tucks one arm under my knee and gently grips the back of my calf with the other. “On the count of three,” she orders. I tense up when she hits three. She gets my leg about six inches off the floor, which is when I scream bloody murder again and grab on to her with both hands.
“Okay. That’s not going to work. The angle is too awkward.” She taps her lip and holds her finger up. “I have an idea.”
She ducks out from under my arm and hooks her fingers in the waistband of her yoga pants.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Calm down. Some bathing suits have less coverage than my underwear. Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
She kicks off her yoga pants, leaving her in a T-shirt and panties. They’re plain cotton boy shorts, which should be a good thing, but apparently my body doesn’t care that it’s not a satin or lace thong. All it cares about is the proximity of almost-naked pussy.
Rook’s sister is standing in my bathroom in her underwear. If I had a sister who looked like Stevie and I knew that she was standing in one of my teammate’s bathrooms half-naked, I would probably kick the shit out of the guy. Thankfully, I have a brother.
I try to keep my eyes averted, sort of, but I catch her reflection in the vanity mirror.
She has fantastic legs. Athletic. Strong. And her ass. Goddamn. She definitely does a lot of squats, based on how round and firm it looks. The ache in my groin turns into that stabbing pain again because I’m getting hard. I think about my grandmother in a bathing suit to counteract the effect of Stevie being partly undressed.
She steps into the tub, and I force myself to keep my eyes down, bringing up the image of that hot chick in the tub who turns into a rotting old lady in The Shining. That helps a bit. At least until Stevie moves into my personal space and starts touching me again. I mutter a string of profanity, especially when I feel her boob pressed against my arm for a few seconds. I have no choice but to latch on to her shoulder as we lift my leg over the edge of the tub. I’m sweating, I’m angry, and I hate my dick.
“I need you to stop touching me!” It’s stupid because I’m still holding on to her, not the other way around.
“Why are you yelling at me?” she shouts back.
“Because you’re half-undressed in my tub, and I’m a guy, and apparently my dick is a fucking sadist. It honestly feels like my balls are on fire right now. A semi has never] been this painful.”
“Well, close your damn eyes and think about dead things.”
“It doesn’t matter if I close them. The image of you in panties is burned into the back of my lids, probably for the rest of my fucking life. It’s all I can see.”
“You’d think you’d never seen a set of bare legs before.” She helps me lower myself into the tub and steps out.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a pair up close,” I grumble.
“Such a surprise, with your warm, fuzzy personality.”
“Okay. That’s not going to work. The angle is too awkward.” She taps her lip and holds her finger up. “I have an idea.”
She ducks out from under my arm and hooks her fingers in the waistband of her yoga pants.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Calm down. Some bathing suits have less coverage than my underwear. Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
She kicks off her yoga pants, leaving her in a T-shirt and panties. They’re plain cotton boy shorts, which should be a good thing, but apparently my body doesn’t care that it’s not a satin or lace thong. All it cares about is the proximity of almost-naked pussy.
Rook’s sister is standing in my bathroom in her underwear. If I had a sister who looked like Stevie and I knew that she was standing in one of my teammate’s bathrooms half-naked, I would probably kick the shit out of the guy. Thankfully, I have a brother.
I try to keep my eyes averted, sort of, but I catch her reflection in the vanity mirror.
She has fantastic legs. Athletic. Strong. And her ass. Goddamn. She definitely does a lot of squats, based on how round and firm it looks. The ache in my groin turns into that stabbing pain again because I’m getting hard. I think about my grandmother in a bathing suit to counteract the effect of Stevie being partly undressed.
She steps into the tub, and I force myself to keep my eyes down, bringing up the image of that hot chick in the tub who turns into a rotting old lady in The Shining. That helps a bit. At least until Stevie moves into my personal space and starts touching me again. I mutter a string of profanity, especially when I feel her boob pressed against my arm for a few seconds. I have no choice but to latch on to her shoulder as we lift my leg over the edge of the tub. I’m sweating, I’m angry, and I hate my dick.
“I need you to stop touching me!” It’s stupid because I’m still holding on to her, not the other way around.
“Why are you yelling at me?” she shouts back.
“Because you’re half-undressed in my tub, and I’m a guy, and apparently my dick is a fucking sadist. It honestly feels like my balls are on fire right now. A semi has never] been this painful.”
“Well, close your damn eyes and think about dead things.”
“It doesn’t matter if I close them. The image of you in panties is burned into the back of my lids, probably for the rest of my fucking life. It’s all I can see.”
“You’d think you’d never seen a set of bare legs before.” She helps me lower myself into the tub and steps out.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a pair up close,” I grumble.
“Such a surprise, with your warm, fuzzy personality.”
About Helena Hunting
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
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Title: The Third Best Thing
Series: Fulton U #3
Series: Fulton U #3
Author: Maya Hughes
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: January 30, 2020
Blurb
Dear Letter Girl, I need to see you. When can we meet?
Her response never came. My secret pen pal with a dirty mind has ghosted me. I've roped Jules, my sweet as pie next door neighbor, to help me track her down.
There's only one problem—I'm falling for her. The tortoise shell glasses, out of this world curves and delicious treats are making the search for The Letter Girl even harder.
My notes were supposed to be a one time thing. A little too much wine and naughty thoughts on a winter's night. I never thought Berk would write back. I wanted to tell him it was me, but the fear of rejection kept my lips sealed.
Now he’s enlisted my help to track down The Letter Girl and our search has him hot on my, ahem, her trail.
She's the girl next door.
He's my secret pen pal.
Truth is on a collision course with their hearts and it’s only a matter of time before one of them gets wrecked...
Her response never came. My secret pen pal with a dirty mind has ghosted me. I've roped Jules, my sweet as pie next door neighbor, to help me track her down.
There's only one problem—I'm falling for her. The tortoise shell glasses, out of this world curves and delicious treats are making the search for The Letter Girl even harder.
My notes were supposed to be a one time thing. A little too much wine and naughty thoughts on a winter's night. I never thought Berk would write back. I wanted to tell him it was me, but the fear of rejection kept my lips sealed.
Now he’s enlisted my help to track down The Letter Girl and our search has him hot on my, ahem, her trail.
She's the girl next door.
He's my secret pen pal.
Truth is on a collision course with their hearts and it’s only a matter of time before one of them gets wrecked...
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Excerpt
A giddy laugh bubbled up from deep down. I snuck a glance at
myself in the mirror again. I was a lumpy diva, but, fuck it, I was a badass,
too. And I was slowly skidding closer to the ground as the sweat that gathered
behind my knee loosened my grip.
Every move I nailed got me a little closer to appreciating
how far I’d come. From the first days of slipping off trying to do a basic spin
with my feet planted firmly on the floor, to being a diva. This was my freaking
body and I loved the shit out of it.
And if I kept telling myself that, maybe one day I’d believe
it.
I lowered myself onto my bedroom floor with a flourish, throwing
in one more spin for my imaginary audience.
The song ended and I braced my hands on my hips, panting and
sweating like I’d run a 5k, with a grin so damn wide I felt it in my toes.
Jumping up and down, I gave myself a high five and a few club-worthy woos.
It made it harder to figure out if I was doing the tricks one hundred percent
correctly, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to record myself to watch later or
head to a pole dancing studio with full-wall mirrors. I wasn’t at that level of
okay with me in all my glory—yet.
I flopped onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling. My
hip-hugging short shorts and sports bra gave me little coverage, but pole
dancing wasn’t exactly about modesty. I’d given it a try at the urging of my
therapist during freshman year and hell if it hadn’t helped—some. It was a way
for me to build strength, body confidence, and maybe attempt to feel a little
sexy.
The door slammed downstairs and I shot up from the bed.
“Jules!” Berk’s unmistakable call sent me from pole dancing
heart racing to ‘floor it, Louise,’ careening toward a cliff. I shot up and
fell off my bed, rattling the perfume bottles on my dresser. Scrambling off the
floor, I grabbed my sweatpants and tugged them on, hopping from foot to foot
and sounding like I’d taken up bowling in my bedroom. I snagged my glasses off
my desk and shoved them onto my face.
Berk was probably wondering how I’d trapped a wild animal up
in my room. I grabbed my long sleeved T-shirt and hoodie off the back of my
chair even though it was August. The fabric clung to my sweaty skin and I
probably had a sweat-stashe going on, but that was better than him walking up
here and finding me half naked. A panic spiral shot through me and I got
dressed even quicker and threw open my door.
My feet barely touched any of the steps as I flew
downstairs.
“Berk.” I fell into the kitchen, bracing my arm against the
doorway. The butterflies in my stomach were replaced by a whole freaking
safari. I tightened my lips to what I hoped was a non-serial killer level of
smile. My heart was glowing like a spotlight, so I wrapped my arms tighter
around myself. Tingles tiptoed up and down my spine at the sight of his floppy
hair and jeans that hugged his ass and trim waist better than mine ever fit me.
His head shot up and the half of the cookie sticking out of
his mouth broke off and dropped onto the counter. “There you are.” His words
were muffled behind two manhole cover-sized cookies.
“Did you think I was hiding in my cookie box?”
“Is that what you’re calling it these days?” Killer smile
and a direct hit. “The old cookie box.”
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Author Bio
Maya
Hughes, that's me!, can often be found sneaking in another chapter while hiding
in the bathroom from her kids! :-) I'm a romance writer who loves taking
inspiration from everyday life, namely my husband and biggest fan. Inspiration
also strikes when I hear a song, meet someone new or daydream while at soccer
practice.
I love
writing stories that capture the possibilities of the paths less travelled and
enjoy experiencing life through my characters’ eyes.
I'm the mom
of three little ones, the wife to an amazing husband and also work full time.
Some of my favorite things are cupcakes, cinnamon rolls, white wine, laughing
until I can't breathe, traveling with my family and Jeff Goldblum.
I have been dying for the story of Jules and Berk since the very beginning. Their backstory was so perfect and sweet, I just knew I was going to love their story. They were both such beautiful characters and I loved them individually but I knew they would be amazing together. The whole series has been one of those that I am holding my breath waiting for the next one but this one in particular feels like I have been waiting for it forever.
First I need to express how beautiful Jules is. Inside and out she is just sugar and spice and all things nice. And having to live through her shrew mother’s judgment and bullshit I could understand her being so self conscious and afraid of judgement. But she put so much effort into getting passed all of that and making herself happy with herself. And she came out of this so strong and knew what she deserved and went after it. But she did it in such a sweet way because she was such a genuinely sweet and caring person who wanted everyone around her to have nothing but the best.
Berk was perfect for her. He had come through so much and still had his own demons he was fighting. But he knew how awesome Jules was, his only hesitation was that he was so caught up on The Letter Girl.
Their story was all that I had hoped for and I loved every part of it. The only problem I have now is that there are so many more stories I need Maya Hughes to write. I mean there’s Marissa and LJ obviously. But I also need Max and the mystery man and Johanssen and Willa. I just can’t wait for the next book regardless of who we get I just need it now.
Buried secrets never stay hidden in the South.
Kallie
I fell in love with him when I was seven. I scraped my knee, and he helped carry me inside.
Our love story was the talk of the town until a woman told everyone she was pregnant with his baby. The only rational solution was to high tail it out of town and never come back.
My best friend needed a place to hide, and you can’t get much more covert than my family farm, so I came back. For her. It was supposed to be temporary, and I wasn’t supposed to see him, but that’s what happens when you live in a small town where everyone knows each other.
Jacob
Being the sheriff in a small town was never my dream. My father died and my older brother took off, so I had to be the one to look after my mother. I stayed. I fulfilled my duties as a son and I protected my hometown.
My life wasn’t perfect, but I was content. Until I locked eyes with a ghost from my past, Kallie. I thought it was my imagination, it couldn’t be. I loved her most of my life, but now I hated her.
The town gossip mill was going into overdrive. I kept my head down and my mind off of the woman who shattered my heart when she ran away. She didn’t give me a chance to explain, it didn’t matter to her then. I didn’t matter.
A second chance is never promised, but now that mine is right under my nose, I’m not sure I can take it.
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When her nose isn't buried in a book, or her fingers flying across a keyboard writing, she's in the kitchen creating gourmet meals. You can find her, in four inch heels no less, in the car chauffeuring kids, or possibly with her husband scheduling his business trips. It's a good thing her characters do what she says, because even her Labrador doesn't listen to her...
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Love is a battlefield for a quirky matchmaker and the cocky football star who hires her to find him a wife.
Rules of Engagement, an all-new laugh-out-loud standalone sports romance from J.T. Geissinger, is available now!
As the owner of Perfect Pairings matchmaking service, Maddie McRae earns her living helping others fall in love. Dubbed the Wedding Whisperer due to her success getting couples down the aisle, the sweet Southern belle knows that the foundation of wedded bliss is built on similarities: opposites might attract, but they don’t stay together.
Which is why she’s holding out for her own Prince Charming, a perfect gentleman who will arrive one day and sweep her off her feet with his devotion, kindness, and charm.
Enter Mason Spark.
Rude, arrogant, and notoriously allergic to monogamy, the hottest quarterback in the NFL is Maddie’s polar opposite. He’s also her new client. Her gorgeous, infuriating new client who’s paying her an outrageous sum of money to find him a wife. With his multi-million dollar contract on the line due to his behavior on and off the field, bad boy Mason is willing to pretend to settle down.
But when he starts to fall for the adorkable matchmaker who can’t stand him, the playboy finds himself in the game of his life to keep something he never thought he’d lose—his heart.
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Excerpt
He jerks his thumb at his mansion. “Don’t you want a tour?”
“Of Hearst Castle? No, thanks.”
His expression tells me how incomprehensible that is. “Everyone always wants a tour. Always.”
“I mean, it’s a very nice place, I’m sure.”
Now he looks insulted. He turns to stare at the house, then turns back to me. “Nice?”
“Please don’t take it personally. I’m not trying to start World War III here. A house like that just isn’t my thing.”
“Your thing?”
“Will you stop repeating everything I say?”
“It’s just that I’m having trouble with the fact that you don’t like my house. Everybody likes it. Everybody. Especially women.”
I sign in exasperation. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Mason, I could give a flying fig what everyone else thinks. I’ll take my cozy little cottage over this place any day.”
“But why?”
I fold my arms across my chest and turn my torso toward him. “Why are you so upset that I don’t like it when you don’t like it, either?”
He shouts, “I never said I didn’t like it!”
“You didn’t have to. The closer we got to it, the more you constipated you looked.”
“That’s just my face!”
“Baloney. You hate your house. Admit it.”
Wild-eyed and wound up, he stares at me for a long, silent moment. Then he exhales in a huge gust and drops his head into his hands.
He says miserably, “I totally hate it. It’s awful, isn’t it?”
I pat his shoulder. “It’s beautiful, elegant, and absolutely ridiculous. Have you thought about asking the state legislature if they need new headquarters?”
He moans into his hands. “I don’t even have any furniture except a bed. You should hear how bad it echoes in there. And everything is marble, so it’s always freezing cold. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and think I’m sleeping in a mausoleum!”
I can’t help myself. I start laughing again.
He lifts his head and glares at me. “It’s not funny!”
“It’s so funny I can’t stand it.”
“Do you have any idea what I paid for this place?”
“Your gargantuan mausoleum?” I squint at it through the window. “I dunno. Bazillions?”
“Exactly! Bazillions!”
“I’m no financial whiz, Sparky, but I think they saw you coming.”
When he groans and drops his head against the headrest, closing his eyes, I try to reassure him. “I’m sure there’s some oil baron with twelve ex-wives and a hundred kids who’d love to move into it. With all the members of his country club. And their housekeeping staff.”
Mason opens his eyes and glares at me.
I try to stifle another laugh, but fail. “And the entire population of Portugal.”
“Ha ha.”
“Oh, lighten up. It’s not like you can’t sell it.”
Sounding panicked, he says, “But where would I live?”
“You say that like there are zero options between here and a cardboard box.”
“Name one.”
“There’s a house for sale at the end of my block.”
That astonishes him so much it leaves him speechless.
“You’re right,” I say solemnly. “It’s only a three-bedroom. There’s not enough space for both you and your ego.”
He looks away. “I’m just surprised you’d want me living on the same street as you.”
“Are you kidding? Imagine how much fun we could have screaming obscenities at each other over the backyard fences. The neighbors would love it.”
When he glances back at me and sees me smiling, he smiles, too. “Yeah, especially when they hear your PG version of cursing. ‘Dingwaddle’ this and ‘flying fig’ that. They won’t even know what language we’re speaking.”
We smile at each other so long it starts to get uncomfortable. I look away, patting my hair to make sure no stray strands have escaped from my bun.
After a rough throat clearing, Mason says, “I guess I’ll go in, then.”
“Okay. Goodnight. And thanks again for dinner. I love that place.”
When he doesn’t respond, I glance over at him. He’s staring back at me with the same warm look that flustered me at the restaurant. “You’re welcome, Pink. Anytime.”
“So I’ll send you all the information on Stephanie as soon as I vet her file. Okay?”
“Sure. Looking forward to it.”
An awkward silence follows. Finally, Mason breaks it by saying, “Sweet dreams.” He opens the door and starts to get out.
“Wait.”
He turns to me, his hand on the door and a question in his eyes.
“I, um, I need to say something.”
He groans. “You’re killing me, you know that?”
“No, this isn’t anything about you. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is about me.”
Eyes alight, he settles back into his seat. “This should be interesting.”
I search his face before I speak, because I want to be sure I don’t miss any change in his expression. “I’m sorry for teasing you about your ego. It’s not nice. And I don’t want you to think that I think there’s anything wrong with you, because I don’t.”
His face goes through several different emotions before it settles on something I can’t identify. It’s part pain and part pleasure, with a whole lot of ambivalence thrown in.
He says softly, “I know you don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. Which is what makes me assume your parents must’ve dropped you on your head a lot when you were a baby.”
“Oh, for crying out loud. I’m trying to apologize here!”
He grins. “You did. I heard you. And you don’t have to do it again, because I like it when you give me shit.”
When I quirk my lips, he amends quickly, “The business. I meant I like it when you give me the business. Nobody else mouths off to me the way you do.”
“Good to know,” I say, smiling. “Now that I know you like it, the gloves will come off, pal, so you better watch out.”
“I can hardly wait.”
We sit there grinning at each other, until Mason says, “Get outta here. I’ll talk to you next week.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
Then it all falls apart in slow motion.
I don’t know what makes me do it. I honestly don’t. One minute we’re smiling and saying goodbye, the next minute I’m impulsively leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Only he’s turning his head, so my target moves.
Where his cheek was supposed to be, suddenly his lips are there instead.
His warm, soft, beautiful lips, which part when they meet mine.
“Of Hearst Castle? No, thanks.”
His expression tells me how incomprehensible that is. “Everyone always wants a tour. Always.”
“I mean, it’s a very nice place, I’m sure.”
Now he looks insulted. He turns to stare at the house, then turns back to me. “Nice?”
“Please don’t take it personally. I’m not trying to start World War III here. A house like that just isn’t my thing.”
“Your thing?”
“Will you stop repeating everything I say?”
“It’s just that I’m having trouble with the fact that you don’t like my house. Everybody likes it. Everybody. Especially women.”
I sign in exasperation. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Mason, I could give a flying fig what everyone else thinks. I’ll take my cozy little cottage over this place any day.”
“But why?”
I fold my arms across my chest and turn my torso toward him. “Why are you so upset that I don’t like it when you don’t like it, either?”
He shouts, “I never said I didn’t like it!”
“You didn’t have to. The closer we got to it, the more you constipated you looked.”
“That’s just my face!”
“Baloney. You hate your house. Admit it.”
Wild-eyed and wound up, he stares at me for a long, silent moment. Then he exhales in a huge gust and drops his head into his hands.
He says miserably, “I totally hate it. It’s awful, isn’t it?”
I pat his shoulder. “It’s beautiful, elegant, and absolutely ridiculous. Have you thought about asking the state legislature if they need new headquarters?”
He moans into his hands. “I don’t even have any furniture except a bed. You should hear how bad it echoes in there. And everything is marble, so it’s always freezing cold. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and think I’m sleeping in a mausoleum!”
I can’t help myself. I start laughing again.
He lifts his head and glares at me. “It’s not funny!”
“It’s so funny I can’t stand it.”
“Do you have any idea what I paid for this place?”
“Your gargantuan mausoleum?” I squint at it through the window. “I dunno. Bazillions?”
“Exactly! Bazillions!”
“I’m no financial whiz, Sparky, but I think they saw you coming.”
When he groans and drops his head against the headrest, closing his eyes, I try to reassure him. “I’m sure there’s some oil baron with twelve ex-wives and a hundred kids who’d love to move into it. With all the members of his country club. And their housekeeping staff.”
Mason opens his eyes and glares at me.
I try to stifle another laugh, but fail. “And the entire population of Portugal.”
“Ha ha.”
“Oh, lighten up. It’s not like you can’t sell it.”
Sounding panicked, he says, “But where would I live?”
“You say that like there are zero options between here and a cardboard box.”
“Name one.”
“There’s a house for sale at the end of my block.”
That astonishes him so much it leaves him speechless.
“You’re right,” I say solemnly. “It’s only a three-bedroom. There’s not enough space for both you and your ego.”
He looks away. “I’m just surprised you’d want me living on the same street as you.”
“Are you kidding? Imagine how much fun we could have screaming obscenities at each other over the backyard fences. The neighbors would love it.”
When he glances back at me and sees me smiling, he smiles, too. “Yeah, especially when they hear your PG version of cursing. ‘Dingwaddle’ this and ‘flying fig’ that. They won’t even know what language we’re speaking.”
We smile at each other so long it starts to get uncomfortable. I look away, patting my hair to make sure no stray strands have escaped from my bun.
After a rough throat clearing, Mason says, “I guess I’ll go in, then.”
“Okay. Goodnight. And thanks again for dinner. I love that place.”
When he doesn’t respond, I glance over at him. He’s staring back at me with the same warm look that flustered me at the restaurant. “You’re welcome, Pink. Anytime.”
“So I’ll send you all the information on Stephanie as soon as I vet her file. Okay?”
“Sure. Looking forward to it.”
An awkward silence follows. Finally, Mason breaks it by saying, “Sweet dreams.” He opens the door and starts to get out.
“Wait.”
He turns to me, his hand on the door and a question in his eyes.
“I, um, I need to say something.”
He groans. “You’re killing me, you know that?”
“No, this isn’t anything about you. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is about me.”
Eyes alight, he settles back into his seat. “This should be interesting.”
I search his face before I speak, because I want to be sure I don’t miss any change in his expression. “I’m sorry for teasing you about your ego. It’s not nice. And I don’t want you to think that I think there’s anything wrong with you, because I don’t.”
His face goes through several different emotions before it settles on something I can’t identify. It’s part pain and part pleasure, with a whole lot of ambivalence thrown in.
He says softly, “I know you don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. Which is what makes me assume your parents must’ve dropped you on your head a lot when you were a baby.”
“Oh, for crying out loud. I’m trying to apologize here!”
He grins. “You did. I heard you. And you don’t have to do it again, because I like it when you give me shit.”
When I quirk my lips, he amends quickly, “The business. I meant I like it when you give me the business. Nobody else mouths off to me the way you do.”
“Good to know,” I say, smiling. “Now that I know you like it, the gloves will come off, pal, so you better watch out.”
“I can hardly wait.”
We sit there grinning at each other, until Mason says, “Get outta here. I’ll talk to you next week.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
Then it all falls apart in slow motion.
I don’t know what makes me do it. I honestly don’t. One minute we’re smiling and saying goodbye, the next minute I’m impulsively leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
Only he’s turning his head, so my target moves.
Where his cheek was supposed to be, suddenly his lips are there instead.
His warm, soft, beautiful lips, which part when they meet mine.
About J.T. Geissinger
J.T. Geissinger is a bestselling author of emotionally charged romance and women’s fiction. Ranging from funny, feisty rom coms to intense, edgy suspense, her books have sold more than one million copies and been translated into several languages.She is the recipient of the Prism Award for Best First Book, the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, and is a two-time finalist for the RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America®. She has also been a finalist in the Booksellers’ Best, National Readers’ Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards.
Her first novel was published in 2012. Since then she’s written eighteen more novels. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, drinking wine, surfing the internet, and daydreaming about all the things she’s going to be when she grows up. She lives near the beach in Los Angeles with her husband and deaf/demented rescue kitty, Ginger.
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What is the Bastard Bachelor Society?
It’s a gentleman’s club—like the dignified men of the past used to have.
Except, we’re not gentleman, and we’re not dignified.
We’re ineligible bachelors; bored, jaded and not looking for relationships. Quite the opposite actually…
We’re so committed to being single, we’ve created a high stakes bet to see who can remain single the longest. Rules are involved. Prizes.
Laugh it up, but I’m no loser.
Enemy number one to my single status? My irresistible neighbor, Abbott Margolis. She with her evil cat Desdemona, and Sexy AF pencil skirts. She’s kind and beautiful and hilarious. We can’t get involved, no matter how much her meddling grandmother pushes us together. But if I was going to lose this bet for anyone? It would for Abbott.
Let’s face facts: I’m a bastard, unwilling to settle down.
Especially when there’s a bet to win.
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Meet the Sara Ney
Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series, and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced latte’s, historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.
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