Author: Lauren Blakely
Release Date: February 26, 2017
Genre: Erotic Romance, Romantic Comedy
More Info: Goodreads
Purchase: Amazon US
Purchase: Barnes & Noble
At first glance, stripping naked at my ex-girlfriend’s place of work might not seem like the brightest way to win her back.
But trust me on this count – she always liked me best without any clothes on. And sometimes you’ve got to play to your strengths when you’re fighting an uphill battle. I’m prepared to fight for her... and to fight hard. I might have let her slip through my fingers the last time, but no way will that happen twice.
He's the one who got away...
The nerve of Tyler Nichols to reappear like that, stripping at my job, showing off his rock hard body that drove me wild far too many nights. That man with his knowing grin and mischievous eyes is nothing but a cocky, arrogant jerk to saunter back into my life. Except, what if he's not a jerk..? He's the one I've tried like hell to forget but just can't. Maybe I’m cursed to remember him. My money is on him being the same guy he always was, but what's the harm in giving him a week to prove he’s a new man? I won't fall for him again.
But how do you resist the hot one...
Title: The Hot One
Genre: Erotic Romantic Comedy
Photography: Wander Aguiar
Cover Design: Helen Williams
Author: Lauren Blakely
Release Date: February 27, 2017
From #1 NYT Bestselling author Lauren Blakely, comes a hot new standalone second chance romance… The Hot One! Want a slow burn, sexy-as-sin second chance romance filled with wit, humor and so much heart? Dive in, and get ready to swoon and fan yourself from the heat!
She turns her head.
That smile makes me feel like I can do this. Like I can win her heart again. Mine pounds faster as I near her, and it’s not just because I happen to think she’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen, but because of who she is.
I arrive at her side, and she straightens. “Hey.”
There’s that awkwardness again, and I want no part of it today. Like the bungee jumper I am, I lean in and dust a quick kiss on her lips. At first, she freezes. That won’t fucking do at all. My tongue darts out, flicking her top lip. A soft breath escapes her, and she gives in. Her sweet lips linger on mine, sending a charge down my spine. My brain leapfrogs ahead, and I picture scooping her up in my arms, carrying her to a quiet little patch of trees, and kissing her till she begs me to take her home.
I want that badly—I want her to beg for it because she’s at her happiest when she’s overcome—but I suspect it’s too soon for her.
Not to mention, screwing in Central Park usually results in a public citation. Public fornicators are never as clandestine as they think they are.
I nibble lightly on her bottom lip for a few seconds, drawing out a throaty murmur from her. Then I somehow find the will to separate.
She blinks. Several times. She sways the slightest bit, like her feet barely touch the ground. Good. I want her to be affected.
She furrows her brow. “I’m sorry, but do we kiss now when we see each other in the park?”
“Evidently we do.”
“Weird. Because I didn’t get that memo.”
I rock on my heels. “Want me to take it back?”
“The kiss or the memo?”
“The memo,” I say matter-of-factly, like this is all so obvious. “You can’t take a kiss back.”
“You sure on that, Nichols?”
“I can try to take back the kiss. Want me to, sweet girl?” I use the term of endearment I once called her. She doesn’t blanch, and that’s a damn good sign.
She smirks. “Be my guest.”
I kiss her once more, like I’m reversing the lip lock, doing it all in rewind, pulling away ever so slowly, ever so softly, leaving her dazed once more.
If she can drive me this crazy, make me this hard, send the temperature in my blood to beyond incendiary, the least I can do is return the favor.
Judging from her reaction, I’m doing it right.
I gesture from her to me. “Like that. I think that’s how you take back a kiss.”
Chuckling, she nods to the running path. “Ready for me to kick your ass?”
Every competitive bone in my body snaps to attention. “We’ll see about that,” I say, then I smack her pink nylon covered behind.
Her eyes widen, saying oh-no-you-didn’t.
But there’s a twinkle in those baby browns that says the lady might like spanking.
That’s new, and it’s most interesting.
I pencil in a new item on my mental to-do list. Find out how much she likes spanking. I never spanked her in college—just wasn’t part of the repertoire. But judging from her response now, I’m more determined than ever to find out everything she likes in and out of bed.
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