[Somehow
I neglected to line up a guest for today’s spot. But that’s okay.
I’ve got a sneak peek at a light-hearted and sexy new release from
Julia Kent. Enjoy! ~ Lisabet]
Blurb
I’m
thrilled to be the maid of honor in my friend’s wedding, but the
best man, Andrew McCormick, is a chauvinistic pig with a God complex.
And
I can’t stop kissing him in closets.
(Don’t
ask.)
He’s
the brother of the groom and the CEO of my biggest mystery shopping
account, but suddenly he’s refusing to be in the wedding. He won’t
talk about it. Won’t see reason.
He’s
such a man.
And
he still won’t stop kissing me in random closets.
(Thank
goodness.)
I’m
a fixer. That’s what I do. I can fix anything if given the chance.
But when the game is fixed there’s only so much I can do.
The
ball’s in his court now.
Game
on.
*
* *
Shopping
for a CEO is the 7th book in the New York Times and USA Today
bestselling Shopping series. When CEO Andrew McCormick and mystery
shopper Amanda Warrick find themselves in the unlikely position as
maid of honor and best man in the Boston society wedding of the year,
an undeniable attraction and dual stubborn streaks add fuel to the
fire in this romantic comedy from Julia Kent.
Buy
links
Amazon
US: http://amzn.to/1MyMNVv
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1HDYXsO
iBooks: http://apple.co/1BTcs5l
Amazon Canada: http://amzn.to/1IaHf5I
Print: http://amzn.to/1M1Zc3W
BN: http://bit.ly/1fR0CV9
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1OkyPaX
Google Play: http://bit.ly/1J5zEV6
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1HDYXsO
iBooks: http://apple.co/1BTcs5l
Amazon Canada: http://amzn.to/1IaHf5I
Print: http://amzn.to/1M1Zc3W
BN: http://bit.ly/1fR0CV9
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1OkyPaX
Google Play: http://bit.ly/1J5zEV6
Excerpt
“Why
did you kiss me the first time? That day when I barged into your
office?”
He
nods, eyes looking at everything and nothing, finally settling on my
face. “Because you were so passionate about protecting Shannon.
Because you were adorable and irate and you had this energy I wanted
to taste.”
I’m
holding my breath. I thought we would spend this first date doing the
awkward getting-to-know you dance. Andrew’s gone right to the
point. Laser focus.
Just
like a CEO.
“Taste?”
“Yes.
I know what I want. I don’t equivocate. I decide and act. I
compartmentalize. I issue orders and execute strategy. You came in
that day and started ordering me around and it was cute and exciting
and inspiring. Oddly sensual. And when you kissed me -- ”
“_You_
kissed _me_!”
“And
when _we_ kissed,” he says, eyebrows raised, as if settling this
point once and for all, “I got something far more forbidden than I
realized I was getting when I went for that simple taste of you.”
Forbidden?
“What’s
that?”
He
studies me, as if sizing me up, trying to determine whether he should
tell me what’s next. Or not. Finally, his face changes through a
series of three or four emotions, most of them involving some
variation of deliberation.
And
then:
“You
didn’t fit in a box.”
“I
fit in a closet.”
He
doesn’t laugh.
“You
intrigued me.”
“Not
enough to call me after that kiss, though.”
He
shakes his head. My heart plummets.
“No,
Amanda. The opposite. You intrigued me too much.”
I
get the sense that the word ‘intrigued’ means something else.
“You
mean I scared you.”
His
eyes flash with emotion I can’t read.
“Yes.”
Men
like Andrew McCormick don’t do this. They don’t lay their
emotions out on the table like this. Why is he doing this?
“Then
why did you kiss me again? And again. And again again -- ”
“I
don’t know.”
“C’mon.”
The driver takes us onto the Mass Pike, lights flying by like
spaceships. Like little orbs shooting past us, filled with people
oblivious to the quantum shift taking place inside this tiny space.
“You always know. You’re a CEO. You compartmentalize. You
execute. You decide. You act. You can’t tell me that the great
wunderkind Andrew Mc --”
He’s
on me before I can take an inbreath to continue speaking, his body so
big and bold, so impulsive and unrelenting. The limo becomes its own
dimension, his hands seeking to hold all of me as we tumble into some
new plane of awareness that doesn’t factor into any life we’ve
known until this moment. His mouth finds mine, hands under my suit
jacket, palm cupping the lines of my breasts, my waist, my hips, and
he’s tasting me again, this time with an urgent need that comes
from an honesty I don’t think he’s felt permission to express in
a very long time.
If
ever.
About
Julia
New
York Times and USA Today Bestselling
Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult
books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to
rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she
writes, but unlike Trevor from Random
Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed
a chicken.
She
loves to hear from her readers by email at jkentauthor@gmail.com, on
Twitter @jkentauthor, and on Facebook at
https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor . Visit her website at
JKentAuthor.com.
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