Author: Lauren Blakely
Release Date: May 4, 2016
Genre: Erotic Romance
More Info: Goodreads
Purchase: Amazon US
Purchase: Barnes & Noble
Purchase: Amazon Print
Just call me Mister Orgasm. No, really, I insist. Orgasms are my specialty. Delivering them, administering them, giving them in multiples. Then doing it again for an encore. I'm like the superhero of pleasure, and my mission is to dole out countless toe-curling, mind-blowing climaxes.
But, hey, I'm not just a man with only one superpower. Step right up, and you'll also find a hot exterior, a razor-sharp wit, and a heart of gold. And I don't take a damn thing for granted. Back in the day, I was the quiet guy bent over his notebook drawing cartoons. Now I'm creator of the hottest animated TV show in the world --The Adventures of Mister Orgasm -- and I'm living the good life as the once-upon-a-time-geek-turned-stud. That means I always put the lady first, and her satisfaction is guaranteed.
Then I'm thrown for a loop when a certain woman asks me to teach her everything about how to win a man. Sounds like my kind of mission. The only problem? She's my best friend's sister, but she's far too tempting to resist--especially when I learn that sweet, sexy, witty Harper has a dirty mind too. What could possibly go wrong as I give her some no-strings-attached lessons in seduction?
No one will know, even if we send a few dirty sexts. Okay, a few hundred. Or if the zipper on her dress gets stuck. Not on that! Or if she gives me those sex eyes on the train in front of her whole family.
The trouble is the more nights I spend with her in bed, the more days I want to spend with her out of bed. And for the first time ever, I'm not only thinking about how to make a woman cry out in pleasure --I'm thinking about how to keep her in my arms for a long time to come.
Looks like the real Adventures of Mister Orgasm have only just begun....
Mister Org@sm is a standalone romantic comedy and it follows supporting characters first introduced in Big Rock!
Ask me my three favorite things and the answers are so easy they roll off my tongue. Hitting a homerun for my softball league, drawing a killer cartoon panel, and, oh yeah, making a woman come so hard she sees stars.
Not gonna lie. That last one is my favorite, by about a mile. Giving a woman a sheet-grabbing, toe-curling, mind-blowing orgasm is pretty much the Best Thing Ever.
A woman’s climax is like summer break, Christmas morning, and a vacation in Fiji all rolled together in one fantastic package of window-shattering bliss.
Hell, if we could harness the beauty and energy from women coming, we could probably power cities, solve global warming, fix every problem known to man. The female orgasm is basically the manifestation of everything good in the world.
Especially when I deliver them, and I’ve given thousands upon thousands. I’m like a superhero of pleasure, a good-deed doer, the once-upon-a-geek-now-a-stud, and my mission is to dispense as many climaxes to my lovers as possible.
How have I managed to achieve this amazing feat? Simple. I’m both a student and a master of the art of giving Os. I consider myself an expert because — in the interest of full disclosure here — I’m completely, 100% obsessed with a woman’s enjoyment between the sheets. Getting her off is the name of the game, and if you can’t get that job done, you should get the hell out of the bedroom.
But, hey, I’m also humble enough to admit I’m still a learner.
Since there is always something new to discover with a woman.
Does she want it soft, hard, fast, light, rough? Does she like it with teeth, toys, my cock, my tongue, my fingers? Would she want a little something extra, like a feather, a vibrator, or some sort of fantastic combination of all of the above? Every woman is different and every path to her pleasure is its own erotic journey with so many fantastic stops to make along the way.
I take mental notes, study her cues, and always get out and do the field work.
I suppose that makes me the Magellan of the female orgasm. A true explorer, venturing forth, fearless and ready at any moment, to map the terrain of her pleasure until she cries out in rapture.
Fine, some might say I have an addiction.
But really, is it a bad thing that I love to make the woman I’m with feel good? If that makes me a guy with a one-track mind, then I’m guilty as fucking charged. I’ll freely admit that when I meet a woman I’m into, I’m picturing in seconds what she looks like coming, how she sounds, how I want to send her soaring.
The trouble is, there’s one woman I just can’t go there with, even though lately my brain desperately wants to figure out how to drive her wild. It’s been an epic battle, and I’ve had to keep her in a special drawer, locked, sealed and key thrown away because she is the definition of hands off.
Which sucks royally because she’s about to make things even harder with the words that come out of her mouth.
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And that’s not all! Lauren Blakely has a surprise for you!
✮✮✮ Well Hung is coming soon! ✮✮✮
That’s right! Lauren has a third standalone romantic comedy headed your way in Late Summer 2016! Check out the fantastic cover for Well Hung designed by Helen Williams!
Coming September 1st!
Here’s what you need to know about me — I’m well-off, well-hung and quick with a joke. Yup. Women like a guy who makes them laugh—and I don’t mean at the size of his d*ck. No, they want their funny with a side of huge… not to mention loyal. I’m the complete package—and I do mean package. I’ve got all that plus a big bank account, thanks to my booming construction business.
Enter Natalie. Hot, sexy, smart, and my new assistant. Which makes her totally off limits…
Hey, I’m a good guy. Really. I do my best to stay far away from the kind of temptation she brings to work. Until one night in Vegas…
Yeah, you’ve heard this one before. Bad news on the business front, drowning our sorrows in a few too many Harvey Wallbangers, and then I’m banging her. In my hotel room. In her hotel room. Behind the Titanic slot machine at the Flamingo (don’t ask). And before I can make her say “Oh God right there YES!” one more time, we’re both saying yes—the big yes—at a roadside chapel in front of a guy in press-on sideburns and a shiny gold leisure suit.
The annulment was supposed to be a piece of cake. But it turns out what happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas. And now, my dick doesn’t stay in my pants when she’s around. Why would it? Natalie’s hot, witty, and horny as hell—especially when we fight. And thanks to a snag with the annulment, she’s still my wife. Mrs. and Mrs. Wyatt Hammer and Natalie Rhodes.
I try to resist. Honest. But the more we try to keep our hands to ourselves, the more we end up naked again — on the desk in my office, in the cab of my truck, on the ladder — and the more time I want to spend with her fully clothed, too.
Sure, we both know a legit divorce is for the best, but my dick is the most loyal prick I know. Especially now that my heart is in the game too. The question now is…do I take this woman to be my ex-wife?
It’s not just the motion of the ocean, ladies. It’s definitely the SIZE of the boat too.
And I’ve got both firing on all cylinders. In fact, I have ALL the right assets. Looks, brains, my own money, and a big cock.
You might think I’m an asshole. I sound like one, don’t I? I’m hot as sin, rich as heaven, smart as hell and hung like a horse.
Guess what? You haven’t heard my story before. Sure, I might be a playboy, like the NY gossip rags call me. But I’m the playboy who’s actually a great guy. Which makes me one of a kind.
The only trouble is, my dad needs me to cool it for a bit. With conservative investors in town wanting to buy his flagship Fifth Avenue jewelry store, he needs me not only to zip it up, but to look the part of the committed guy. Fine. I can do this for Dad. After all, I’ve got him to thank for the family jewels. So I ask my best friend and business partner to be my fiancée for the next week. Charlotte’s up for it. She has her own reasons for saying yes to wearing this big rock.
And pretty soon all this playing pretend in public leads to no pretending whatsoever in the bedroom, because she just can’t fake the kind of toe-curling, window-shattering orgasmic cries she makes as I take her to new heights between the sheets.
But I can’t seem to fake that I might be feeling something real for her.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into with this…big rock?
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