Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write – and read!
Click on the graphics to travel to the other snippets.
If you’re not signed up for the Secret Santa party, head on over and join the party Facebook Group – over 350 authors giving away books, swag, gift cards.
Home and Garden assistant manager Evie Strand has painstakingly embroidered a set of seven thongs as a gag gift for her best friend—only she brought the wrong box to the store Christmas party, and now Adam Grant from Automotive is holding them up for everyone to see: Kiss my…, Tight Fit—could things get any worse? Adam may seem like a total rake, but he can tell Evie’s deeply embarrassed, and he resolves to make it up to her. Who knew where a simple dinner date would lead?
EXCERPT
Continuing from last week at the store Christmas party, Adam’s still opening the gift Evie brought by mistake…
More hoots and hollers followed. The powder-blue Monday thong had been more shocking, probably because it was the first one Adam had held up, or maybe because it said “Don’t Dribble” across the front.
Evie pushed her chair back from the long banquet table where she sat with her fellow Grafton Department Store employees. Leslie grabbed her wrist. “Don’t let him get the best of you. Mistakes happen. At least half the people here think you did this on purpose to get the rake’s goat. If you leave, they’ll know you screwed up.”
Evie gulped and nodded at her department manager. She drew in a deep breath. “All right.”
REVIEWS
Five Stars at Amazon:
“A Gift for Adam is hilarious and a refreshingly new take on the old “opposites attract” formula. I have to admit that laughing until my eyes water and then immediately squirming in my seat from the “heat” of the next scene is a new experience for me…a powerfully good read… truly brilliant comedic rhythm and delivery.
This was an awesome fun and exciting book. A definite must read!
A hot Christmas read – “A Gift For Adam” by Adriana Kraft was one short sexy, funny with a lots of humor Christmas novel. Hard to put down
When eight friends from childhood reunite at their twentieth high school reunion, they realize they only see each other at weddings and funerals. This is unacceptable to friends as close as this. The answer—obviously—more weddings. To get the ball rolling, the lone married woman, Gabriella dares her friends to marry or else. When they laugh off her idea, she doubles down on her challenge and raises the stakes.
Gabriella doesn’t care if Avery is so shy that she’s hardly even spoken to a man, or that Rachel can’t choose between the multitude of guys she sleeps with each month. Gabby ignores every argument, instead selecting the worst price for each of them to pay if they lose.
The Dare is on. The women open their hearts to every opportunity that crosses their paths, no matter how unlikely or elusive the man might be. They’ll help each other – as long as it doesn’t cost them the win.
Within weeks Avery finds a fellow cat rescuer, Sofia’s heart flutters with new possibilities at work, and Willow spars and sparks with her horrible neighbor. Melinda has to be coached, but not Harper. After twenty years, she’s finally flirting with her high school sweetheart.
All’s Crazy in Love offers eight steamy romances—from first love to second-chance romance, from unexpected babies to unexpected attraction. Get to know eight wonderful women who find each other, themselves, and a chance to snatch the biggest prize of all—love. Read these stories and more in the All’s Crazy in Love series coming soon.
Travel with life-long friends as they discover love, test friendships, and race to cross the finish line.
Let the games begin…
Blurb—Crazy to Believe
The “Crazy Eights” have been best friends for thirty years, but they rarely get together. The remedy? An audacious dare contrived to bring them together for weddings—their weddings. Each participant must marry within twelve months or complete a personally mortifying task.
Meet Sofia, beautiful and brilliant, longing for a family. Starting over after a divorce, Sofia is focused on her career, not some foolhardy dare. She’s set her sights on a new job, a new home and reluctantly accepting her single, childless status. Independent and determined, she can’t foresee she will both win and lose her heart’s desire in the next six months.
Jeremy Klein, genius engineer and inventor, is also making big life changes. He’s sold his startup to become a billionaire CEO overnight. Unfortunately, his ego hasn’t caught up yet, and despite family pressures and turning forty, he is gun-shy about returning to the dating game.
Then Jeremy meets Sofia. They bond over shared business interests and a chemistry that sizzles. Their attraction is immediate and so electrifying that a one-night stand quickly morphs into planning a future.
But plans can change. Accusations threaten to derail their relationship, Sofia’s career and Jeremy’s position. Spies, lies and misunderstandings abound until those “Crazy Eights” step in, scheming and manipulating to secure Sofia her happily ever after.
The stakes are high. Win the bet and lose your heart; or lose the bet along with your dignity. When the wager is nothing short of true love, are Jeremy and Sofia crazy to believe?
Excerpt
Mr. Brown Eyes got the message. Sofia watched as he swiftly disconnected from his conversation and sauntered her way. She loved how he moved, relaxed, fluid, and assured. He was a man on a mission. Mr. Tall, Dark and Sexy was every bit as good-looking as Nico. Better. He was classically handsome with high cheekbones and a broad forehead. He appeared serious, intelligent and thoughtful. He bore a straight, slightly hawkish nose, and full, kissable lips.
He was sinewy and graceful as a leopard moving in on his prey. His hair was rich, almost black and a little longer than the current style, longer on top and the back. As he drew closer, his smile widened, blinding her with perfect, white teeth in a face burnished by the sun.
His face was devastating up close – open and welcoming, with a hint of naughtiness in his smirk along with the promise of shared pleasures. But it was his eyes, deep coffee brown and fringed with long dark lashes that were his best feature; piercing, intelligent, inquisitive and currently trained on her.
Please, God, Sofia prayed quickly, do not let this man be the new sales manager. It would be awful if she needed to keep him at arm’s length. He was the first man Sofia had felt drawn to since Nico. If she was honest with herself, he was the first man she had ever felt this attracted to so immediately. It was enough to make her believe in love at first sight or fate.
“Hi.” He stepped closer, ignoring the empty stool beside her to halt just inside her personal space. Usually, Sofia would back up, but she savored his closeness, the power emanating from his presence. Even in this stuffy bar, he smelled good – fresh, like soap and good whiskey. And up close, his eyes were more magical, a hint of gold dancing in their depths.
“Hi,” she responded on a breath, letting the single word hang there for a moment. “You aren’t in sales, are you?”
“Nope.” If he thought it was a strange conversation starter, he kept it to himself and his lack of response increased Sofia’s tension. “I could be in sales for you,” he offered in a voice smooth as brandy, redolent with sexual promise and a hint of curiosity. She laughed at his offer, tense for a better reason. “Are you in sales?”
“Yes, I am. I was thinking of what a crime it would be if you turned out to be my new boss. I’m meeting him tomorrow.”
“Jeremy.” He extended his hand to hers. “Not in sales. Is your boss named Jeremy?”
“Thankfully, not.” Sofia savored the moment as Jeremy closed his long fingers around hers, his skin soft and warm. There was no wedding band. Sofia’s relief was excessive. Everything about him captivated her. “Sofia.”
“Sofia.” He rolled the word around his mouth as if tasting a fine wine. “He was just saying words, but their underlying promise was undeniable. She wanted to be alone with him. She wanted to be naked with him. And all she knew was his first name.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked, already sitting down. “I am anxious to learn why you don’t know who you work with, Sofia.”
His every emotion was transparent, especially the desire flaming in his expression right now. A passion she reciprocated. Wholeheartedly. She couldn’t fathom such an instantaneous attraction. But with Jeremy, she felt electricity and lust move through her entire body, just from the touch of his hand and the sound of her name spoken in his rich baritone.
The man would be thinking their flirtation would lead to sex. She should shut him down—she always had before. But with Jeremy, her body governed her head. She wanted more.
“So, spill.” Jeremy leaned forward on his elbows, putting his mouth dangerously close to hers. Just a few inches, and they could be kissing. “I am dying to hear your story. I want to know absolutely everything about you.” The way he lingered on the word ‘everything’ made Sofia wet. Oh man, she was in way over her head.
“Only if you reciprocate.” She wondered where she found her voice and her nerve. “In detail.”
“It’s a deal.,” he said, lowering his voice until she wondered what exactly he promised to share.
Bio— Madison Michael is living her dream as a romance writer. Born and raised in Chicago, she covered the four corners of the U.S, before returning to her roots, friends, family and the best pizza anywhere.
She loves cats, cat jokes and cat videos, anything with too much sugar, and everything writing. Author of the Beguiling Bachelor romance series, and several stand alone romance novels, she can be found living in Chicago, writing, eating sugar, pizza or hotdogs, surrounded by cats.
Since Hubs and I don’t write Rom Com or Chick Lit, we don’t really write Meet Cutes, at least not on purpose. A Meet Cute might set an odd tone for our romantic suspense and erotic romance stories…
But having got this far, I’m thinking that how he and I met might be a true-life Meet Cute. Here’s our story—we’d love to hear whether it qualifies. For that matter, if any of you have a real Meet Cute in your life, we’d love to hear about it!
The first time I ever saw my husband, I was a grad student and an instructor in a new program at my university.
Early that fall, the entire school faculty were gathered in the lobby for the introduction of new hires. There were only two or three new faces, but a distinguished looking bearded man with mischievous eyes stood out to me immediately. It got even better when it turned out he was a new addition to the program I was teaching in. I won’t say I stalked him—but I will say that when I got home, I told my roommate about him, and through her contacts in a similar field, she got me his bio.
Fast forward to a Chicago January: Snow is piled high in streets and on sidewalks, and our program is having a potluck an hour’s drive away. I have a car (which I’ve duly shoveled out). The new professor does not have one. A fellow prof suggests that I give him a ride, he accepts, and we have an hour each way to talk to each other. I had two conclusions at the end of the evening – I was very definitely interested in him (okay, I was crushing on him), and I suspected he was living with someone (someone who wouldn’t share her car? Wasn’t sure).
The following week he materialized in my office doorway to ask me for the recipe of the dish I’d brought to the potluck. Triumph! I shared it – and nothing else happened for five more months. He had some loose ends to tie up, it turns out…
Our first date (finally!) was that June, and we married the following June.
Why is this the Eggplant Story? Because the dish I’d taken to the potluck was one of my favorite veggie recipes of my mom’s, an eggplant-tomato-bacon casserole. Hubs and I had been married for over two years when the confession finally came: He’d had no idea which dish was mine—he was just looking for a way to start a conversation with me, and he hates eggplant.
I get paid to follow a womanizing troglodyte who thinks rules are for other people and that my pants are the next pair he’s getting into.
Dream on.
Bet your first professional job didn’t involve babysitting an extremely hot, muscle-bound Scottish Highlander with an ego the size of a kilt and a libido bigger than his…well…
Chicken.
Keeping Scottish football (that’s ‘soccer” to us Americans) player Hamish McCormick away from inappropriate scandals while he does product endorsement campaigns is my mission.
No problem.
Until Hamish decides I’m his next scandal.
And maybe more….
Shopping for a Highlander is an enemies-to-lovers, slow burn romance that opens with a surprise kiss and ends with a happily ever after. This sports comedy in the New York Times bestselling Shopping for a Billionaire world contains no actual chickens, but it has plenty of locker room scenes, a fake relationship, very real banter, and more. You do not have to have read the previous books in this world, though after you read about Amy and Hamish, you’ll want to.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.
From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).
She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at [email protected], on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor
Hamish McCormick’s tongue is in my mouth. I realize this is a problem half the women on the planet would love to have. He’s a world-famous Scottish soccer–sorry, football to everyone except Americans–player, and my sister is married to his cousin, the billionaire. Given the fact that Hamish is kissing me in front of my date, though, it’s a little awkward. “Ahem,” said date says, scratching his temple, adjusting his glasses, and using polite, understated throat techniques to get Hamish off me. Subtlety doesn’t work on Hamish, though. This kiss is anything but subtle. Pretty sure you’d need a crowbar to pry him off me. Or me off him. The distinction between who is kissing whom was lost long ago. I see my date, Davis, out of the corner of my eye, and I’m about to shove this two-hundred-pound sack of hard muscle and overconfident heat off of me and slap him, but sweet merciful deity, I swear Hamish’s lips have some kind of magic potion on them that renders me spellbound. No kiss has ever tasted like this. Except the last kiss from him.
Reviews:
“Shopping for a Highlander is an entertaining, hilarious ride that had me swooning as hard as I was laughing. I couldn’t get enough of flirty Scottish footballer Hamish and his love/hate banter with the tightly wound Amy!” —USA Today bestselling author Susannah Nix
If serving as reputation manager for a hot hunky muscled pile of Scottish Highlander is a job — sign me up! A scandal-ridden soccer player and the woman who has to keep him in check create the perfect playbook for a swoony rom com. Fans of Julia Kent’s Shopping series will read the opening kiss and only realize at two in the morning that they couldn’t stop until they reached the end. — USA Today bestselling author Deanna Roy
Julia Kent scores a hat trick of fiery romance, madcap comedy, and unlikely relationships in this hot Scottish football romcom. — Gina Robinson, author of Loves Billionaires and Dogs
★★★★★ “Do not miss this one, so many laughs included, a light fun read and great addition to the Shopping Series.” – Goodreads reader
★★★★★ “Buckle up, buttercup, because you are not ready for Hamish McCormick! His magnetic charm, insouciant approach to life and outrageous shenanigans will shock you while keeping you in stitches, but this Scottish soccer player’s heart is bigger than the Loch Ness monster.” – Bookaddict, Goodreads reader
★★★★★ “Hamish and Amy are absolutely hilarious and I loved their banter. They are perfectly made for each other and I smiled throughout this whole book. Even when Hamish was being a numpty. They definitely have a love hate relationship that worked so well for these two. It had me cracking up and turning the pages to find out the ending.” – Late Knight Luna Reads, Goodreads reader
★★★★★ “I LOVE Amy and Hamish. Separately they are good but together they are wonderful. The sparks are always flying when these two are together.” – United Indie Book Blog
★★★★★ “I swear this series just gets better and better!” – Bibliophile Chloe, Goodreads reader
★★★★★ “Shopping For A Highlander was a rom-com diamond to read. I laughed so hard, tears were sprung from my eyes like with cartoon characters. My husband kept on coming to lean over my shoulder to check on what I was reading. Hamish and Amy were pure cotton candy on sticks. Their bantering was hilarious!” – Bookbub reader
★★★★★ “The growth of these two characters throughout this book is so well developed. Neither of them changes overnight, and neither of them changes against their will. They grow together because of each other’s support, because of their shared experiences, and because they can be themselves with each other. I loved how they truly lifted each other up and wanted happiness for the other. Julia Kent has delivered another knock-out hit in the Shopping Universe, full of all of the humor and heart that you expect from the Jacoby and McCormick families.” – LA Loves Rom Coms
★★★★★ “Oh my goodness! My face hurts from laughing and my heart is happy as a result of that ending. Julia Kent is a definite go to author for me and she never, ever let’s me down.” – Bookbub reader
★★★★★ “Such a funny, feel-good read and it’s definitely one of my favourites from the series!!!” – Bookbub reader
★★★★★ “This book is a slow burn, but the verbal foreplay between Amy and Hamish make up for it throughout the entire story! Highly recommend!!” – Bookbub reader
★★★★★ “Hamish and Amy’s personalities are so rich, deep, sarcastic, and loving. I feel them while I read this story.” – Goodreads reader
★★★★★ “Are you like me with a thing for a big Scottish pro footballer (soccer player if you’re American)? You aren’t prepared for the outrageously sexy and hysterically funny Hamish and his handler, Amy. ” – Goodreads reader
Fellow Extasy author Maggie Blackbird is featuring I Heart The Holidays at her blog all this month, and Mr. Kraft and I stopped by to visit her today and talk about why we love writing holiday romances (and what’s tough about it).
Oh, and there’s an excerpt, too – hope you’ll stop by:
Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series continues in Shopping for a CEO’s Honeymoon as Andrew and Amanda settle in to married life… and so much more.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 1.5 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 16 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French and German, with more titles releasing soon. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three children in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
Our home looks like the set for Extreme Home Makeover, except there’s no bus to move and all of the workmen act like I’m invisible as I wander downstairs after waking up naked in an empty bed.
I throw on clothes and am down the stairs when I spot my husband.
“What is going on?” I ask Andrew, who is huddled over blueprints with some guy who looks like he runs a union hall in South Boston. Tight eyes, distrustful look, goatee, and an intensity that makes it clear you want him on your side.
Andrew breaks away, kisses my cheek, and gives me a saucy half grin. “Just like you wanted. Here we go.”
“Here we go what? We barely talked about what we wanted!”
“We did,” he says, suddenly defensive. “In bed,” he whispers.
“What I want in bed has nothing to do with tile colors and three-season sunrooms!” I say.
Loudly.
“The guys aren’t working on anything like that,” he hisses as a few workmen suppress smiles. “We’re putting in new backup systems.”
“Backups for what?”
“Power outages. Acts of God. Hurricanes. Bomb cyclones that leave six feet of snow.”
I snort. “What, no alien contingency plan? Got a blueprint for a universal extraterrestrial language translator in there?”
Andrew reddens and avoids eye contact.
I frown. “Andrew?” I grab his arm and pull him aside, his muscles tense. “What are you doing? This isn’t how I envisioned remodeling and spending our honeymoon. For one, we didn’t have sex that second time this morning.”
He looks at the clock. “It’s only 7:53. Plenty of time for that.” He grabs me at the waist and pulls me close, trying to divert me with a kiss.
It works.
“We’ve got the geothermal heat unit figured out, and when we redo the gutter system and the roof, in addition to the solar panels, we’ve got an evaporation system set up for clean water collection. Storage is next,” he says to me.
“All that in the first hour of work?” I’m stunned.
“I’m efficient. Two weeks of my focused attention is like five years of a normal human
being’s time.”
“Efficient and humble. I love that in a man.”
“You’d better, because you’re stuck with me forever.”
AN ALL-NEW STANDALONE FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR JULIA KENT COMPLETES THE DO-OVER SERIES!
I never thought my perp walk would lead to true love.
Then again, I never thought I’d be arrested on RICO charges and hauled away in zip ties on camera for the world to see, minutes after closing the most amazing deal of my career.
And all of it in front of my biggest rival, billionaire wunderkind Ian McRory.
I am broke.
I am disgraced.
I am alone.
I am a sucker.
But the worst part? I have to go back to my hometown and live in my bedroom filled with relics from my childhood.
Lisa Frank never made me so mad before.
Just when I needed a rescue, I got one — in the form of help from my biggest rival.
He can’t bring back my money.
He certainly can’t bring back my reputation or my pride.
But there’s one thing he can bring back to me.
A sense of hope.
Maybe even love.
Ian sees something in me no one else does, and he’s relentless about making me see it, too. As we grow closer, I’m starting to see that while my entire life used to be a lie, the truth is staring me in the present — and it’s a truth I like very, very much, hot eyes and gorgeous smile and all.
But I have to be careful.
I can’t be too —
That’s right.
Hasty.
The final book in the USA Today bestselling Do-Over Series (Fluffy, Perky, Feisty), as Mallory’s sister, Hastings “Hasty” Monahan gets her turn at a happily ever after that starts off with an arrest.
I know people say that, and they mean it, but they don’t mean this. My best day is better than anyone else’s. Trust me.
I know.
I’m sitting at a table at Essentialz, a five-star restaurant in San Francisco. Everyone at the table watches me as I tuck the signed paperwork away in my black Bottega Veneta woven leather brief bag.
I, Hastings Monahan, just signed a nine-figure investment deal on behalf of the venture capital firm I work for.
Full partner, here I come.
Of course, lawyers will handle the majority of this. The signatures are symbolic as much as they are legal. But the fellow diners at my carefully crafted table will go back to China with an exciting opportunity for their company, Zhangwa Telecommunications, to enter the North American market with climate-change technology projecting yields that are the best aphrodisiac ever.
As I sip from my glass of Montrachet Grand Cru, I catch the eye of Ming Bannerton, a consultant with Zhangwa whose father is a high-ranking U.S State Department official in China, a woman who has a hunger for financial success that I can spot in anyone in three seconds flat. There’s something special about a fellow hustler–and when I use the word hustler, I don’t mean it pejoratively.
People who hustle get things done.
We connect. We network. We pattern match. We ruthlessly apply what we intuitively feel to what we operationally know in order to produce optimal outcomes.
In short–we hustle.
And we win.
But in competition, there can only be one winner.
One.
Tonight, I’m it.
Her smile mirrors mine, red lips stretched over perfectly white teeth that are as straight as a new picket fence. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes, but an intensity infuses her. She’s about five years younger than me, with a knowing eye that tells me we need to stay in touch. Someday soon, she may shoot past me, and that’s where all the legwork pays off.
In this business, you network down as well as you network up, if you want to get anywhere.
And the manila folder resting in my brief bag, the one that feels like a warm gold ingot pressed against my lips? That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get somewhere.
“Where is Burke?” Mr. Zhao Bai asks, his head at a slight tilt, a gesture of genuine curiosity as his eyes survey me, looking for information that doesn’t come directly from my mouth. He’s the youngest of the four men at the table, a fast talker who looks around the room like he’s a mob boss. Negotiating with him took a steady hand I didn’t know I possessed, but now I understand.
Burke is part of the deal, and I didn’t realize it.
The contracts are signed, though. That makes my husband an off-the-books addendum. No matter what, this is my accomplishment.
My husband, Burke Oonaj, is one of the hottest market makers in finance right now. Even he will have no choice but to be impressed by the deal I’ve just put together.
But the inquiry about my husband makes my uterus fall.
And it’s not like he’s around to catch it.
“Good question,” I say before taking another sip of wine, needing to buy myself a smidgen of space and time. I only need a split second.
Normally.
For some reason that I can’t explain, my emotions are tangling in my mind, and that’s an unpredictable variable I have to weed out.
Fast.
My heart feels strangely heavy in my chest, a sense of dread filling me that has no right to be here. This is MY night, I tell that sense of dread. This is MY deal. This is my culmination of six years of careful work, all coming together, right now.
Go away, dread.
But Mr. Zhao’s question is a good one, because Burke isn’t answering any of my texts or emails or phone calls, and hasn’t for the last three days.
My husband has disappeared.
Not literally, of course, because husbands don’t just do that. Business travel can be intense. Plenty of stretches of time have gone by without hearing from him. They involved twenty-four hours or less, though.
Not eighty-one hours and thirteen minutes.
Not that I’m counting.
I can’t admit any of this to anyone at this table, of course, so instead, I give what my pattern-matching brain tells me is the optimal answer, designed to make me look good.
“Burke’s fine,” I say with a grin, the glass of wine still full enough to make more sips look like an appropriate response. “He sends his best regards. He would have been here tonight, but… you know.”
Two of the men share a look I don’t like. It’s a fleeting glance, the type that is practiced and meant to look like nothing. You think I’m paranoid, that I’m inventing it all?
Wrong.
I’m in a state of hyperarousal.
No, not the sexual kind. Haven’t felt that in a long time, at least not with Burke. My hyperarousal is based around the stress hormones pumping through me from the excitement of what I just accomplished.
Me. Myself. Alone.
Independent of Burke.
As workday smiles stretch to become the more casual, intimate grins of people enjoying bottle after bottle of excellent wine, I loosen up. The answer I gave them sufficed. We can move on.
My body feels numb and excited at the same time. I’m on top of the world. The pinnacle.
I am Peak Hastings.
Which is why, when the maître d’ approaches my side, I don’t pick up on the gravity of his whisper. No one would. Because learning that my credit card has been declined for this business dinner is definitely not part of the plan, and the areas of my brain assigned to processing language literally can’t comprehend it.
“It’s what?” I whisper, standing carefully, legs still steady, my alcohol consumption measured, even if my tablemates have made their way through more wine than an entire wedding party back home.
The maître d’, José, gives me a wide-eyed but polite look. “I’m sorry, Ms. Monahan. This has never happened before when you’ve dined with us. But the credit card company was very firm. You cannot use this one.”
Mr. Zhao gives me an inquiring look. My stomach sinks. Did he overhear?
“Will you all excuse me?” I tell them, hating the disruption, my legs turning into two steel beams covered in chilled skin.
“Something must be wrong with the credit card processor,” I snap at the maître d’ as I hurry away from my group. I want to get the taint of this failure out of the way and get back to my stellar success.
Once we’re out of sight of my table, I rifle through my purse and find another business credit card. “Use this one. And let me be very clear, to you and to your boss, that this is absolutely, abjectly unacceptable.”
He inserts the card, chip side in. “I realize this, Ms. Monahan, but we cannot…”
Beep.
He stares at the credit card terminal.
I read the display upside down. “Declined!” I hiss. “This is impossible! That card has no limit!”
“Perhaps you’ve had your identity stolen, or there are fraud alerts on your account? Perhaps you’re the victim of a financial crime?” José suggests.
“I can’t be the victim of a financial crime!” I snap at him. “I’m a financial expert! This doesn’t happen to people like me. Here!” I shove a third company card at him. This one better work.
I only have one more.
My mind races ahead, conjuring contingency plans, even as my cheeks burn with shame.
Shame.
Why would I feel shame for someone else’s mistake? And yet, there it is, and I have to override it fast. Because if I don’t, it gets a toehold.
And that is the fastest way to lose your edge.
José closes his eyes and lets out a sigh through his nose, a split second before the display terminal beeps.
Again.
“Your computer system is down,” I declare, pulling out the fourth card and my phone, texting my office manager. Maybe something went wrong. Maybe José is right. Maybe we were hacked. But this is surreal enough to let the dread come inside me and have a seat, as it decides whether to become an overnight guest.
It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m staring at a mid-four-figure bill that I owe, right now, and have no way to settle.
This cannot be happening.
As he runs the fourth card, the main door opens. My spine straightens, calves stretching tall, and not just from the five-inch heels I’m wearing.
I know that man.
I hate that man.
And he’s the last person on Earth I want to see in the middle of this debacle.
Ian McCrory cannot see me like this.
Author Bio:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 19 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French and German, with more titles releasing in 2020 and beyond.
From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).
She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.
The ball and the book both drop on New Year’s Eve!
New Year’s Eve. Times Square. I booked the room over a year ago, with the view of the ball dropping. I’ll propose to Charlotte and drop to my knee at the stroke of midnight.
At least, that’s the plan.
But nothing in my life ever goes as planned. Between a last-minute gig that takes me away from her, a blast-from-the-past boyfriend of Charlotte’s, and the resurrection of Esme the blow-up doll, I have to fight for my right —
To make her my wife.
Charlotte. Not Esme. Because that’s just gross, man. What’s wrong with you?
Liam is finally ready to pop the question to Charlotte after years together, but a last-minute gig and a heaping dose of fate in the form of Darla makes the road to marriage a little bumpier than expected.
Welcome to the Random series, where people propose to chickens, snakes fall in love with blow-up dolls, cell phones become medical devices, and love conquers all, in tune and with three-part harmony.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling
Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to
BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every
contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after
dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She
lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the
toilet seat is never, ever, down
Especially when it’s resting inside a velvet box in your
front pocket.
My fingers slipped into the top of my jeans, sliding over
the denim seam, slipping through the white cotton pocket, and stroking the
velvet. Was I obsessive? Yes.
Did I have a right to be? Hell, yes.
Charlotte came back into my life four years ago. We’ve been
through hell and back, and she’s still here.
Time to make her permanently here.
Did I need a ring to make that happen? A wedding vow and a
piece of paper that says we’re partners? No.
For Laurel,
Christmas so sucks. She’s out of a job, money, and luck until her neighbor
Scott plays Santa. This tall, dark, and sexy hunk delivers sweet decadence and
holiday magic that makes being bad oh-so good.
Excerpt:
God, god,
god. Laurel indulged in Scott’s clean, wondrous flavor, his intense
heat, and male need.
He groaned
savagely.
The
unrestrained sound and his impassioned embrace said more than words could. He
wanted her as no other man had.
With one
hand firmly on her ass, he pulled her into him.
Trapped in
the best possible way, she surrendered to his desire and her own.
They kissed
as lovers would after a lengthy separation, his stubble scraping her cheeks and
chin. Few things could have better defined or intensified his masculinity.
She
couldn’t touch him enough and stroked his firm pecs, broad back, silky hair,
and the precious package between his legs.
A fierce
sound spilled from him. He pushed her tongue aside to fill her mouth and
fondled her boob.
Her nipple
came alive within his lusty caress, the tip and halo painfully tight.
Getting
close enough proved beyond necessary and seemingly impossible to achieve. They
were practically welded together and it wasn’t enough. She clawed his top,
wanting the damn thing off.
On a rough
moan, he cupped her ass and lifted her into his arms, her weight
inconsequential against his brute strength. Lost in intolerable need, she
pressed her thighs to his narrow hips, her pussy snug to his cock.
He tottered
backward and dropped onto the sofa, her straddling him.
Clothes
flew. Her tank top and bra tangled with his Henley.
He cupped
her naked breasts, his grin stretching from ear to ear.
Warmth
swirled in her stomach and pussy, his pleased reaction doing wonders for her
battered heart. Especially given his physical gifts: smooth olive skin, taut
pecs, and beautifully defined abs. Even Photoshopped male models didn’t look
this good. “Where’s your phone? I have to take your picture.”
“Later.
Yours first though.” He tongued her nipple into his mouth.
Riotous
pleasure shot through her. Never had she experienced such intense heat. Her
head fell back.
He suckled
hard, soft, and somewhere in between. His tongue flicked her tip relentlessly.
Nerve
endings fired. She trembled.
He held her
tightly, preventing escape.
As if she
were crazy enough to be anywhere but up close and personal.
Finished
with one boob, he sucked air and leaned toward the other.
“No, no,
no.” She gripped his head. “Stop!”
Alarm
flooded his handsome features, dread beneath it. “Why?”
“I want—I
have—I can’t wait any longer. Sorry.” She scrambled off his lap, knelt between
his legs, and tugged his fly.
“Whoa.” He
gripped her wrists. “Let me help before you draw blood.”
“Hurry.”
“Believe
me, I’m trying.” He yanked his button free and rammed down his zipper.
Together, they shoved his jeans and stretchy boxer briefs to his thighs.
His cock
sprang out, wavered, and landed on his belly, the thick shaft so hard it
pointed north.
“Wow.” She
cupped his lightly furred balls, their weight and warmth pure wonder. “You’re
gorgeous.”
He sagged
against the sofa but also pressed his family jewels into her palm. “Yeah?”
“I have to
take a picture.”
“Not
fucking now.” Breathing hard, he cupped her hand over his dick and balls.
“Don’t you dare stop.”
“No sir. I’ll be good.” She took his rod into her mouth, tonsil deep.
About Tina:
I’m an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who
writes passionate romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional
publishers and indie. Booklist,
Publisher’s Weekly,Romantic Times
and numerous online sites have praised my work. I’ve won Readers’ Choice
Awards, was named a finalist in the EPIC competition, received a Book of the
Year award, The Golden Nib Award, awards of merit in the RWA Holt Medallion
competitions, and second place in the NEC RWA contests. I’m featured in the
Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, I worked at a
major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.
On a less serious note: I’m an admitted and unrepentant
chocoholic, brake for Mexican restaurants, and have been known to moan like Meg
Ryan in When Harry Met Sally while
wolfing down tostadas. I’ve flown a single-engine airplane (freaking scary),
rewired an old house using an ‘electricity for dummies’ book, and am horribly
shy despite the hot romances I write.
You know what’s even better than marrying a billionaire? Having his baby.
We’re ready. We’ve studied and planned, read all the birth and labor books, researched parenting classes, consulted our schedules, and it’s time.
And by we I mean me.
Declan’s just ready for the “have lots of sex” part. More than ready.
But there’s just one problem: my husband and his brother have this little obsession with competition.
And by little, I mean stupid.
That’s right.
We’re not just about to try to bring a new human being into the world.
We have to do it better, Faster, Stronger.
Harder.
McCormick men don’t just have babies.
They engage in competitive billionaire Babythons.
I thought the hardest part about getting pregnant would be dealing with my grandchild-crazed mother, who will go nuts shopping for a billionaire’s baby.
Wrong.
Between conception issues, my mother’s desire to talk to the baby through a hoo-haw cam, a childbirth class led by a drill sergeant and a father-in-law determined to sign the kid up for prep school before Declan even pulls out, my pregnancy has turned out to be one ordeal after the other.
But it’s nothing — nothing — compared to the actual birth.
Shopping for a Billionaire’s Baby is the newest book in Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series and is a 400+ page full-length novel.
Excerpt:
“This conception stuff has you thinking. Philosophically, I mean,” Andrew notes, suddenly paying close attention to me.
“Of course. It’s powerful.”
“How? It’s just sex.”
I snort. “I thought so, too. Until I had sex where I tried to get her pregnant on purpose.”
Vince, Gerald, and Andrew all take a step closer to me.
“Bareback,” Vince whispers, like the word itself is holy.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men’s room toilet (and he isn’t a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
Join the party room so you’ll be all set: https://www.facebook.com/groups/DangerouslyDarkDarlings
BLURB
Bio— Madison Michael is living her dream as a romance writer. Born and raised in Chicago, she covered the four corners of the U.S, before returning to her roots, friends, family and the best pizza anywhere.
Since Hubs and I don’t write Rom Com or Chick Lit, we don’t really write Meet Cutes, at least not on purpose. A Meet Cute might set an odd tone for our romantic suspense and erotic romance stories…
