Showing posts with label Katy Evans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Katy Evans. Show all posts
Best Man
by Katy Evans
Release Date: December 10, 2019
Best Man, a brand new contemporary romance from New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author, Katy Evans.
When the wedding of your dreams is just around the corner, everything needs to go as planned. Only problem is, the groom didn’t get the memo.
Aaron forgot the rings, and Lia is determined to make the long drive home to get them in time for their “I do’s.”
But there’s a catch. There always is with Aaron, isn’t there?
Aaron is too hungover to come, and sends a replacement.
The best man.
Miles Foster. The cocky, arrogant, sexy best man…and the last person Lia wants to be trapped in a car with for hours.
But Aaron insists, and Lia wonders if there’s another reason Aaron wants Miles tagging along--aside from sticking her with a hot, surly babysitter.
Yet how bad can it be? It’ll be over before she knows it, and she’ll never see him again. Just like in college.
But when secrets are revealed, and Lia's whole world is turned upside down, she realizes she's been living a lie--and so has her groom.
Miles is supposed to be the best man at her wedding.
But what if he is simply the best man she has ever known? The best man for her?
Download your copy today!
Excerpt
The dress is a strapless Carolina Herrera, with layers and layers of whisper-thin organza. It blows my budget and the “less is more” mantra out of the water, but like Eva said the day we bought it in downtown Denver, when you know, you know. The locale is the sumptuous Midnight Lodge, nestled in Colorado’s Rocky Mountains, every tiny detail of the place costing my father more than an entire year of his salary. The twenty-three members of the bridal party are assembled. It’s the scene of every little girl’s fairytale fantasy.
My fantasy.
At least, the one I’d been harboring up until today, when everything changed.
Eva smiles at me. “Ready to make your dreams come true?”
I stare at myself in the mirror. I look like Cinderella, if the wicked stepmother had just materialized at the castle on Cinderella’s wedding day and gunned down Prince Charming in cold blood. I’m also about three minutes away from losing the mimosa I’d polished off earlier that morning at breakneck speed. I go to chew on my nails but then I remember Eva painted them, and the last thing I want is for him to see the chips.
He notices things like that. He’s an observer.
And I want to be perfect for him.
Him.
The wrong him.
Oh, god.
I go to chew on my lip, but I can’t do that because they’ve been lacquered with bubble-gum pink gloss, and he’d probably notice if I got it on my teeth, too. All my normal ways of freaking out are off limits.
This is the day of my dreams, the day I’ve planned to the letter, just so I could avoid any potential calamities that might make me freak out.
But I am freaking out. Oh, lordy, am I ever.
I’ve been waiting my whole life for this day.
This perfect day, where the sun is shining, the snow is melting, birds are singing, and the sky is the deepest blue I’ve ever seen.
But there’s a problem.
A problem in the form of a pretentious, bearded, six-foot-three wall of hot man flesh who stalks around hating the world and thinking he’s better than everyone in it.
My fiancé’s best friend. The best man, Miles Foster.
This is all his fault.
“You okay?” Eva asks.
“I am,” I insist, pushing the infernal veil out of my face for the thousandth time. “This dress is itchy as hell.”
I stand and pluck the dress up under my armpits, hoisting it over my boobs. I try to take a step but…too much fabric, in all directions. It’s a wonder I don’t drown in this sea. In this sea, or in this mess I’ve created for myself. I sit back down on the vanity stool and pout. “I’m stuck.”
In more ways than one.
She gathers handfuls of too much organza and helps me up, depositing the pile of fabric safely in my wake. I shuffle to the full-length mirror and glance at myself. I don’t look like a bride, or even a fairytale princess. I look like a prisoner who just got her death sentence.
“It’s too loose,” I whine. I never had much of a rack, and now it’s super obvious. Why did I decide to go strapless again? “I think I must’ve lost some boobage during my diet. What if the top of my dress falls down while I’m walking up the aisle?”
Eva smirks. “I’m sure Aaron’ll love the show.”
The thought makes the mimosa turn in my stomach. I used to live for what Aaron thought. Whenever I had a choice to make on something, be it a new movie coming out, or a sweater at the mall, or a new hair style, I’d think, Would Aaron like this? But I realize, as she says his name, that it doesn’t matter to me in the slightest what Aaron thinks. The only opinion I care about now is that of the man who will be standing precisely two feet to my husband-to-be’s left.
I am such an idiot.
In less than fifteen minutes, I will be marching down the stone steps outside the Midnight Lodge to a picturesque gazebo at the foot of the hills, on the arm of my father, who has socked his entire life’s savings into making this day picture perfect for his only daughter. I will take the hand of the man I’ve been attached at the hip to for over five years, ever since I met him in a dank frat cellar when I was a wide-eyed little college freshman. I will join with this man—this man I’ve spent all of my adult life with—in holy matrimony, ’til death us do part.
I will become Mrs. Aaron Eberhart.
But I know I’ll be looking past my husband-to-be to the man who, up until twelve hours ago, I’d thought I hated. Miles Foster.
And I will be wondering What if…
I wish choosing a husband was as simple as choosing a dress.
When you know, you know.
I did know, or I thought I did. Up until twelve hours ago, I thought Aaron Eberhart was my true soul mate, the one I’d happily spend the rest of my life with. That’s when things took an unexpected turn.
Right now? I don’t even know my own name.
And I have a feeling I might be making a huge mistake.
My fantasy.
At least, the one I’d been harboring up until today, when everything changed.
Eva smiles at me. “Ready to make your dreams come true?”
I stare at myself in the mirror. I look like Cinderella, if the wicked stepmother had just materialized at the castle on Cinderella’s wedding day and gunned down Prince Charming in cold blood. I’m also about three minutes away from losing the mimosa I’d polished off earlier that morning at breakneck speed. I go to chew on my nails but then I remember Eva painted them, and the last thing I want is for him to see the chips.
He notices things like that. He’s an observer.
And I want to be perfect for him.
Him.
The wrong him.
Oh, god.
I go to chew on my lip, but I can’t do that because they’ve been lacquered with bubble-gum pink gloss, and he’d probably notice if I got it on my teeth, too. All my normal ways of freaking out are off limits.
This is the day of my dreams, the day I’ve planned to the letter, just so I could avoid any potential calamities that might make me freak out.
But I am freaking out. Oh, lordy, am I ever.
I’ve been waiting my whole life for this day.
This perfect day, where the sun is shining, the snow is melting, birds are singing, and the sky is the deepest blue I’ve ever seen.
But there’s a problem.
A problem in the form of a pretentious, bearded, six-foot-three wall of hot man flesh who stalks around hating the world and thinking he’s better than everyone in it.
My fiancé’s best friend. The best man, Miles Foster.
This is all his fault.
“You okay?” Eva asks.
“I am,” I insist, pushing the infernal veil out of my face for the thousandth time. “This dress is itchy as hell.”
I stand and pluck the dress up under my armpits, hoisting it over my boobs. I try to take a step but…too much fabric, in all directions. It’s a wonder I don’t drown in this sea. In this sea, or in this mess I’ve created for myself. I sit back down on the vanity stool and pout. “I’m stuck.”
In more ways than one.
She gathers handfuls of too much organza and helps me up, depositing the pile of fabric safely in my wake. I shuffle to the full-length mirror and glance at myself. I don’t look like a bride, or even a fairytale princess. I look like a prisoner who just got her death sentence.
“It’s too loose,” I whine. I never had much of a rack, and now it’s super obvious. Why did I decide to go strapless again? “I think I must’ve lost some boobage during my diet. What if the top of my dress falls down while I’m walking up the aisle?”
Eva smirks. “I’m sure Aaron’ll love the show.”
The thought makes the mimosa turn in my stomach. I used to live for what Aaron thought. Whenever I had a choice to make on something, be it a new movie coming out, or a sweater at the mall, or a new hair style, I’d think, Would Aaron like this? But I realize, as she says his name, that it doesn’t matter to me in the slightest what Aaron thinks. The only opinion I care about now is that of the man who will be standing precisely two feet to my husband-to-be’s left.
I am such an idiot.
In less than fifteen minutes, I will be marching down the stone steps outside the Midnight Lodge to a picturesque gazebo at the foot of the hills, on the arm of my father, who has socked his entire life’s savings into making this day picture perfect for his only daughter. I will take the hand of the man I’ve been attached at the hip to for over five years, ever since I met him in a dank frat cellar when I was a wide-eyed little college freshman. I will join with this man—this man I’ve spent all of my adult life with—in holy matrimony, ’til death us do part.
I will become Mrs. Aaron Eberhart.
But I know I’ll be looking past my husband-to-be to the man who, up until twelve hours ago, I’d thought I hated. Miles Foster.
And I will be wondering What if…
I wish choosing a husband was as simple as choosing a dress.
When you know, you know.
I did know, or I thought I did. Up until twelve hours ago, I thought Aaron Eberhart was my true soul mate, the one I’d happily spend the rest of my life with. That’s when things took an unexpected turn.
Right now? I don’t even know my own name.
And I have a feeling I might be making a huge mistake.
About Katy
Katy Evans is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her debut REAL shot to the top of the bestselling lists in 2013 and since then 9 of her titles have been New York Times bestsellers. Her books have been translated into nearly a dozen languages across the world.
Connect with Katy
Email: katyevansauthor@gmail.com
Million Dollar Devil
by Katy Evans
Release Date: May 28, 2019
Million Dollar Devil, a devilish contemporary romance where big-city sophistication meets carnal hunger from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Katy Evans.
Heir apparent to her father’s company, Lizzy Banks needs a man. The perfect man. But when the rich “fundbabies” she usually rubs shoulders with prove impossible to hire, she takes a chance on a raw beast of a man salvaged from the wreckage of a bar brawl.
James Rowan earns a modest income as a YouTube daredevil, but he can’t refuse Lizzy’s million dollar deal. As she polishes his rough edges, creating a sophisticated gentleman fit for the highest circles of society, not only does she bring out the perfect man—it’s like she’s making the man of her dreams. How can she resist?
Though Lizzy loves seeing James in his clothes—and out of them—he isn’t the kind of man you bring home to Daddy. Her father’s disapproval and the pressure of the campaign have her eyeing the straight and narrow, but Lizzy’s finding it awfully hard to resist the devil on her shoulder…
A stand-alone, contemporary romance.
Download your copy today!
Excerpt
He has a face that—until now—only existed in my dreams. Hard jaw, chiseled to perfection. Firm, plush, kissable lips. Sharp, pristine blue eyes that feel like lasers zeroing in on me. He catches my gaze, and the devil’s smile suddenly playing on his lips is worth a million bucks.That’s exactly how much it cost me. What this guy cost me. I would’ve paid so much more.
It’s like he’s the only man in the room. Like he belongs here. Confidence oozes out of his every pore. Masculinity envelops him as perfectly as his custom black suit. He walks like he owns the place. My heart beats harder and harder for him.
I can’t believe I got him to agree to this.
Women are vying for his attention. His moves are smooth. Sophisticated. Elegant.
“An autograph?” a young woman asks shyly.
He takes the notepad and pen she extends and scribbles his name, his voice low and rough. “There you go.” Beneath all that polish is his raw masculine energy. The determination that brought him here.
“James . . .” I halt him before we go any farther. “Whatever happens . . .”
He looks at me. A thousand words lingering in his look. “I know.”
But does he? I’ve fallen in love with my own creation. I polished a diamond, and now it’s flawless. Perfect. But it’s not mine to keep.
He is not mine to keep.
This elite world he’s about to join isn’t one he was born into. These fans only know him because of me. His place at the top? That’s not where I found him.
About Katy:
Katy Evans is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. Her debut REAL shot to the top of the bestselling lists in 2013 and since then 9 of her titles have been New York Times bestsellers. Her books have been translated into nearly a dozen languages across the world.
Connect with Katy:
Email: katyevansauthor@gmail.com
Tycoon
by Katy Evans Publication
Date: June 20th, 2017
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Tycoon, an all-new standalone from Katy Evans is available now!!!
He wasn’t always this rich. This hot. This difficult.
Aaric Christos was a guy who protected me. Wanted me. Maybe even loved me.
That man is gone.
In his place is the most powerful real estate tycoon in the city.
He’s a cold, ruthless, aggressive businessman.
The only one who can save me and my startup from ruin.
It takes every ounce of courage to put my pride aside and ask for his help.
I didn’t expect him to offer it easily.
And he doesn’t.
Instead, he vets me harder than he’s vetted anyone.
Don’t invest in what you don’t know, he says.
He's assessing every piece of me, to the point I've never felt so bare.
I yearn for the boy I once knew, whose touch once craved me.
Putting it all on the line will be worth it, I tell myself.
Until I realize—too late—that some risks are not worth taking.
Excerpt:
I hop off the train and walk several walks to his building.
It’s a brownstone in Park Avenue, one of the most elite of the elite spaces in town.
My lungs feel a little bit overworked from awe as I head up the steps to the double doors, grateful that I came dressed to kill in a little black dress, a jacket, and pumps. Simple, but effective.
See, I may be feeling a little awkward, but at least I don’t look it.
I’m greeted by his maid. She’s dressed in black and white, her hair drawn back in a neat bun, her expression stoic and formal as she leads me down the hall to a gorgeous study.
I catch my breath when I notice all the books and shelves.
It’s like a reader’s paradise in here. There’s a sleek chrome bar, a modern mahogany glass-topped desk, and two huge whiskey-colored leather chairs that almost swallow me up when I’m instructed to wait in one.
I drum my fingers, inhaling the scent of leather and wine, remembering a guy I knew with his mechanic navy-blue uniform, black streaks on his jaw, his big nose always the first thing you’d see, which was a pity because he had beautiful eyes and a really sinful pair of lips.
He’s living in luxury now. Wow. Good for him.
I hear footsteps approaching and the little hair on my arms prick at attention. My head turns as a tall, dark figure steps into the room, and the most intimidating guy I’ve ever seen enters and crosses the room toward the desk. He walks like he’s the shit…his strides proud and composed, elegant and powerful.
Christos, I hear myself breathe in surprise.
He’s so tall now…six three, at least. Dirty-blonde hair, gold-green eyes, chiseled jaw, and a gorgeous profile.
All in black, he looks very much a New Yorker.
He’s wearing a black jacket, black pants, and a black turtleneck beneath the jacket...
I stare at him, my jaw hanging a little bit open. The man is….all man. Testosterone. Muscles. Height. Width. My chest hurts all of a sudden because I realize…
The boy you knew is gone.
I force myself to stand. “Thank you for seeing me.”
He heads to the bar to pour two drinks, then he prowls over, takes the whiskey leather chair across from mine and leans forward, pushing a glass of cognac with one finger across a small table, toward me.
And he waits.
In silence.
But my stomach dips as if he’d said something ultra-sexy and decadent.
“You might not remember me, I’m sorry to be reaching out like this,” I say, nervous.
“What do you want?”
There’s a pleasant shiver as he speaks. Recognition of his voice, even though it’s far deeper than I remember.
“I was told you sometimes invest in startups.”
“I’d say more than sometimes.” He raises his eyebrows as if I should’ve done my homework better.
Ugh, Bryn! Focus! Be SMART! Make yourself and your business irresistible! A silence settles as he eyes me, slowly setting his drink down as he leans forward and finally, unexpectedly, smiles. At me.
It’s just a smile.
But the world tilts under its impact.
“Hello, little bit.” Amusement touches his gaze as he tilts his head and watches me. “You know, I’d think you’d have grown up the ten-plus years since I last saw you. At least an inch.” He leans back in his seat, seemingly displeased. Wow, this guy is not the lanky kid I knew once. This guy oozes danger.
Every ounce of “boy” is gone. Oh God. For a moment I wish that we could go back in time and I could discuss my startup with the guy I knew before.
But time travel is not really my talent, and it seems like I have yet to see if I even have any special talents at all—depending on what this guy thinks.
“I grew two in width,” I shock myself saying.
He laughs then, his eyes drinking me in openly.
“Shame on you, you’re not trying to see if it’s true?” I ask him, frowning now.
He shrugs casually, his lips curved at the corners. “I can’t help it. Something has to have changed.”
“Why?”
“Because nothing good ever lasts. Even you, little bit.” A smile touches those unforgettable gold-green eyes.
A shiver runs through me. Because…
Christos recognized me.
“I can tell you’re as incorrigible as ever.” I shake my head, but I’m smiling, truly just relieved that he recognized me.
“I try to be,” he purrs dangerously.
I’m feeling warm all of a sudden. I can’t believe I’m staring at him so much, but it’s like I cannot take my eyes away. He looks achingly familiar, but at the same time, so different I cannot help but stare and track the differences in his features. The way his jaw squared out even more, the way his body filled out with hard, lean muscles that shift and ripple beneath his expensive designer clothes. I cannot believe that this is a guy I knew once.
He seems to silently be taking in my changes too, his keen stare allowing me to see that he seems to approve of it all. Even the dress I’m wearing. “You changed enough for the both of us,” I blurt.
“Really. How so?” he asks.
“You grew into your nose.”
“Really?” He chuckles as if despite himself.
“Width and height too. Quite a bit,” I add.
“Anything else,” he prods, one eyebrow rising.
“You learned how to dress.”
He looks down at his black suit. “This old thing?” He grins, then shifts forward, sobering up. “What can I do for you, Bryn? Considering I’m rather surprised to see you here, I’m eager for you to satiate my curiosity.” His stare becomes keen.
“So am I. I didn’t expect to be here,” I admit, and for a moment when I look into his eyes, all I see is someone I’ve seen before. Someone who belonged in my life long ago. “You know when you had that misplaced crush on me and told me one day I’d know what it felt like to throw pebbles at someone’s window wanting them to open? I’m sort of throwing rocks here.”
“Not to sing me a love song,” he says flatly, his eyes shuttering.
“No. Well, you know that was never....I mean...” Don’t bring up your rejection of him, Bryn! “It’s for something better. Business.”
“Go on.”
“I knew that’d get you.” I smile privately. “So it’s true your love is money now.”
“She gives back what I put in. Though her ass isn’t as juicy as I like,” he says nonchalantly.
“Wow. No matter how polished you look, your mouth is still as crude as ever.”
“Thank you,” he purrs, his eyes grinning at me.
I laugh. Then I sober up and realize he’s waiting for me to speak. “I’m looking for money for my startup,” I say.
“How much.”
“One hundred thousand.”
“I don’t invest less than a million.” He twirls his whiskey in his glass, eyeing the liquid.
“Well then, I’ll ask for a million.”
He raises his brows, setting his glass down. “It’s not how much you want to ask for, it’s how much the company’s worth.” Eyebrows up, he skewers me with a cold, intimidating look.
“It’ll be worth more than a million, trust me,” I bluff.
“Good for you. Except…” he leans back with a rustle of clothes, every athletic inch of his black-clad body flowing sinuously like a feline with the move, “considering that has yet to happen and I’ll need to trust you on that, my trust needs to be earned.”
This version of Christos is even more intimidating than the old one, unfortunately.
I try to hide it, keeping my voice as level as possible. “How does one earn your trust?”
“I’d tell you if I were interested, but I’m not exactly sure that I am.” He eyes me as if debating in silence.
This guy is the only guy in the world that unnerves me in this way, and I can’t seem to slow the fast pounding of my heart in my chest as I try to remember what I came here to say.
“I have a full presentation for you. I’m not taking no for an answer.” I reach into my briefcase.
“Darling. Are you ready?”
I start at the female voice and glance at a gorgeous woman striding into the study. Christos continues looking at me as he stands and reaches for the cell phone the woman extends out.
“We’re done here,” he answers her as he pockets the phone, his gaze remaining on me.
“I’ll wait for you in the car.” She leans up and kisses his jaw, her hands proprietary on his chest, then sends me a woman-to-woman claiming look, before she swishes away, all glittering jewels and lean body.
There’s a silence as he approaches, and for a second all I can hear is the sound of a toilet flushing, taking my only opportunity with a possible investor away.
“I’ll think about it,” he says.
“Christos.”
“I said I’ll think about it,” he says from the door.
“Please do,” I say as he exits the room. I cup the sides of my mouth, “I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time?” I say jokingly.
I’m surprised when I hear footsteps returning. He pauses when our eyes meet. “I’ll make contact,” he says, raising his eyebrows meaningfully, “If I’m interested in hearing more.” He nods. “Nice to see you, Bryn.”
“Nice to see you. Christos.”
Well, that went sort of awful.
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Mine by Katy EvansMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
OK I am going to assume that if you’re looking at this book
you fell as hard as the rest of us did for Remy and couldn’t wait to pick this
up and dive back in and spend more time with the amazing King of the Jungle.
And in that case why the hell are you reading this and not already nose deep in
the book? Seriously, run and get the freaking book.
As soon as I received this ARC I literally dropped
everything (husband and kids dinner included) and locked myself in the bath. I
had a thousand little notes and highlights when I forced myself to put it down
at 50% to go to bed. As soon as I woke up I was right back in it and from that
point on I forgot to highlight and make notes or do anything but read it like
my next breath depended on it. But maybe it’s for the best as I really don’t
want you to hate me for ruining a second of this story for you.
So I will just share some of the bits that made me tingle the
most and try to express to you how much I love this series to date. And how desperate I am to read Remy and see
inside his beautiful, complex mind.
besotted with a character that every time you think of it you can’t help but
smile and spend a few minutes thinking about them and you know that no matter
what the next book can never compare. Well I put this on my TBR shelf in April
and when I first opened it to read I was so scared that this book would make me
love Remy a little less or maybe he would do something that would upset me or
the story would disappoint in any one of a million possible ways. But it was
like I had never put down Real and had just turned that last page to find
another half of the story there waiting.
Remy was the same growling, possessive, licking, scenting
alpha male I loved in the first book. There is nothing I can say to express my
absolute obsession with this character. Just the mention of his name turns me
into a 16 year old fan girl with wet panties. And although the panties are kinda
par for course with my reading choices the fan girling makes me a little
sickened and embarrassed but hell it’s REMY people. If you don’t get it you
haven’t met him yet and in that case you honestly need to drop everything and
jump on the bandwagon.
Bottom line this was the perfect sequel for me. And if you
lust him as hard as I do we should be besties and discuss how awesome he is at
every opportunity. If you haven’t met him yet you’re in for a treat cause this
man really is the king of the ring.
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