Tuesday, November 30, 2021

Sneak Peek! The Journeyman’s Trial, out next week! #SteamPunk #VictorianNerds #MFRWHooks #MFRWAuthor

The Journeyman's Trial cover

For most of this past year, I’ve been working on The Journeyman’s Trial, the second book of my steam punk erotica series The Toymakers Guild. I’ve finally finished; at 92K words, the novel is the longest thing I’ve ever written. It’s scheduled to come out next Wednesday, the 8th of December, so today I thought I’d give you a taste. This excerpt, which actually is Christmas-themed, is rated PG. I will warn you that is not true of most of the book!

I’ll be posting a much spicier excerpt for the Steam Hop next Tuesday. Meanwhile, enjoy!


If she builds it, will they come?

Technically brilliant and thoroughly wanton, Gillian Smith has found her vocation: designing innovative erotic devices for the Toymakers Guild. Lust is a lubricant to creativity at Randerley Hall. But what happens when two Toymakers fall in love?

The Guild’s tribe of talented, uninhibited engineers has embraced Gillian as one of their own. Edward Thorne, the perverse genius who founded the Guild, undertakes to train her in the skills she’ll need as a journeyman, from practical mind-reading to transcendental orgasms.

As Gillian labours to impress the charismatic Master, her enigmatic fellow journeyman Rafe both entices and frustrates her. Their passion seems to go beyond mere appetite, but in Randerley’s promiscuous and permissive environment, does love make any sense?

When the Toymakers receive a commission to equip London’s most exclusive brothel with the latest sexual technology, Gillian has the chance to demonstrate her formidable abilities as well as to help Rafe exorcise the demons of his past. She doesn’t realize she’ll be forced to choose between Rafe and her future in the Guild.

If you like intelligent, lusty women and kinky steam punk sex toys, pick up a copy of The Journeyman’s Trial.


The Hook (PG Rated)

Christmas at Randerley was a more sedate affair than Gillian had expected, partly because the Master had invited the entire household. As the apprentices and journeymen gathered around the gaily decked tree on Christmas morning, they were joined by Henderson the butler, Mrs Jones from the kitchen, her scullery boy Jim, Pete Murphy, and a compactly built young woman with a crown of ash-blond braids, wearing a grey uniform with a white collar and apron. Gillian had assumed that the steam-powered robots that hurtled up and down Randerley’s corridors handled all the cleaning, but perhaps this girl was responsible for the more complicated aspects of domestic management.

The Master, with his characteristic discernment, noticed Gillian’s curiosity. He gestured at the young and rather pretty stranger. “I gather you’ve not met Emily. She joined us a few weeks ago.”

Given that Gillian had spent the bulk of her time over the last month working in the laboratory, her failure to notice the new maid was not that surprising. She gave the young woman a warm smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, Emily. I’m Gillian Smith.”

Emily’s eyes focused intently on Gillian’s face. After a short pause, she nodded and returned the smile, but not the greeting. Gillian glanced at the Master.

Emily comes from a village west of here,” he commented. “A childhood fever left her unable to hear, and she’s quite reluctant to speak. However, she can understand what we say by reading our lips.”

A deaf-mute servant! That was certainly convenient for protecting Randerley’s secrets! Gillian’s initial sympathy for the maid quickly transformed into admiration as the girl circulated among the Guild and household members with a tray of eggnog. Emily moved with quiet grace, a self-assured presence that made her a delight to watch. Very likely she knew that she was fortunate to have found work here. Gillian did not doubt that the Master paid her generously.

Rafe sidled up and slipped an arm around Gillian’s waist, distracting her from Emily’s trim figure. He planted a quick, nutmeg-flavoured kiss on her lips, but somewhat to Gillian’s regret did not take further liberties. More quickly than she would have liked, he released her. Slipping his hand into his trousers pocket, he extracted a box about three inches long and half as deep, wrapped in brown paper and tied with green twine.

He offered her the diminutive parcel. “Happy Christmas to you, Jill.”

Oh, Rafe! That’s very sweet of you, but really, you should not have gone to the trouble.” Guilty embarrassment made her blush. In fact, she’d been so focused on her work that the question of Christmas gifts had never even entered her mind.

She shifted the package from one hand to the other. It was unexpectedly heavy. What could it be? She hoped he hadn’t spent a lot of money on her. Thankfully, the box was the wrong shape for a ring. Last night she’d told him she loved him. The declaration had been sincere, but still, she couldn’t possibly accept a ring as a gift, given the implications.

Open it,” he urged.

Gillian glanced around the drawing room. Everyone seemed engrossed in their own conversations, sipping their eggnog and nibbling the gingerbread fingers Mrs. Jones had provided. The Master sat on the chaise near the tree, Amelia at his right hand and Roderick on the left. Both of them half-turned toward him as if to catch some words of wisdom. Jia was ensconced in one of the wingback chairs by the fire, with Ian perched on one arm, Tug on the other, and Archie on the ottoman by her feet. Lucy gestured dramatically as she related some funny story to Pete Murphy and Emily. The groundskeeper chuckled, while the tidy little maid nodded and smiled.

No one was paying any heed to her and Rafe.

With a touch of trepidation, she pulled on the end of the twine. The bow came loose and the paper unfolded, revealing a box of unvarnished wood. She turned it over several times, as Rafe grinned. “What is it?” she asked finally.

Check the front panel,” he told her. Sure enough, there was a barely visible depression near the bottom edge on one side. She centred her thumb in the dent and pushed away from her. The thin wooden sheet slid upward along a pair of grooves. Nestled in the soft red wool lining was a miniature hourglass.

She extracted the instrument and cradled it in her palm, a bit puzzled. “It’s lovely,” she told him. The sand inside was white as the snow outside. “Thank you.”

I made it especially for you. Blew the glass and brazed the enclosure.”

You made it? Oh my!” She examined the item with more care, noting a few minor imperfections that marked it as handmade. A comfortable warmth settled in her chest and her residual guilt evaporated. “Your versatility continues to amaze me, Rafe. But why?”

I wanted to give you a Christmas gift.”

No, I mean, why an hourglass?”

Taking the artefact from her, he turned it on its end and placed it on a nearby occasional table. Sand flowed smoothly from the top orb to the bottom through the narrow waist. “To continue your lessons in patience,” he told her, arching an eyebrow. “For instance, I won’t touch you again until all the sand has collected in the bottom.”

Gillian burst into laughter. “That’s hardly a lesson,” she countered. “I doubt it will take more than a minute to empty the top chamber.”

Well, that depends.” He lifted the device, fiddled with a tiny thumbscrew between the two globes, then set it down again. The flow of sand slowed to the point that it was almost imperceptible. “Now what do you think?” he asked. “Can you wait until the sand runs out?”

Gillian gazed into his dark eyes, full of love and challenge. “You rogue!” She licked her lips. “Can you?”

She yearned to grab him, despite their very public situation. She wanted to drag his mouth to hers and run her hands along his muscled back, down to his firm buttocks. He could tease her, could pretend he’d mastered his own lust, but now she knew better.

Pre-order at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09MQV4Y86

Pre-order at Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1118032

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today's Book Hooks hop!

Monday, November 29, 2021

The ultimate threat to human-kind -- #ScienceFiction #SpaceOpera #Giveaway

Mars Wars banner


For decades the Space Consortium of America has searched for new ways to harvest resources beyond an increasingly depleted Earth. The ultimate plan is about to be ignited. So is the ultimate threat to humankind . . .


Battle-hardened Captain Ry Devans and his crew of the Mars Orbiter Station One (MOS-1) are part of a bold plan: resurrect the active molten cores of the Red Planet with synchronized thermonuclear explosions, and terraform the hell out of that iron-oxide rock for future generations. It’ll change history. So will the strands of carbon-based Martian cells that have hitched a ride on the ship.

Dr. Karen Wagner knows the microbes’ resistance to virus is incredible. It’s the unknowable that’s dicey. Her orders: blow them into space. But orders can be undermined. Two vials have been stolen and sent hurtling toward the biosphere. For Devans and Wagner, ferreting out the saboteurs on board is only the beginning. Because there are more of them back on Earth—an army of radical eco-terrorists anxious to create a New World Order with a catastrophic gift from Mars.

Now, one-hundred-and-forty-million miles away from home, Devans is feeling expendable, betrayed, a little adrift, and a lot wild-eyed. But space madness could be his salvation—and Earth’s. He has a plan. And he’ll have to be crazy to make it work.





You’d think Captain Ry Devans was a hero when he jumpstarted the cores of Mars, giving the previously dormant planet a fresh start at harboring life. But he’s also the host of a life-saving alien microbe, and the most wanted man within thirty-three million miles—courtesy of the terrorist global juggernaut the Earth First Faction, and its sociopathic agent Paton Schiflet. They’re doing everything in their power to quash the organized inhabitation of space and keep the last humans under control.

Now that the EFF has dispatched its own insanely weaponized crew, Devans and his dirty-dozen team have three options: fight, surrender, or witness the extinction of the thousands of civilians repopulating space. For Devans and outlaw partner Dr. Karen Wagner, option number one is is the only way to go—but the odds against them are astronomical.
Not only are moles undermining every offensive tactic, but some on MOS-1 are exhibiting dangerously psychotic mood swings. Is it just an extreme case of space crazy? Or a new microbial gift from Mars that could kill their mission before the war with EFF even begins?


From Rogue Planet, Mars Wars, Book 2

2235 A.D.

This ain’t your great-great-great grandaddy’s Mars.

The thought hit Ry Devans again as he glanced at the angry orb. The words looped annoyingly, the way a familiar but not necessarily welcome tune will sometimes do. Once or twice would have been okay, but a few rogue synapses weren’t letting it go. Yeah, there was some real upheaval going on, but he and his crew didn’t bug out of Mars Orbiter One on a sightseeing mission, no matter how compelling their looming destination had become. This Synch Event was to buy them the one thing they needed almost as much as air and water and food.

They were closing fast. Done were the power and air system checks, nuclear fusion queries and carbon feeds for the engine, shield readiness, and potential flight path hazards. The results were solid. Expected and redundant.

The pissed-off planet they were racing toward was anything but.

Devans could almost hear the marsquakes rumble, crash and form with a Godlike voice.

Look what you organics have wrought.

Well, it really was a group effort, Devans countered silently. Plus you almost killed my crew. Not to mention a forty-something pilot that looks an awful lot like the one occupying this seat.

Look. At. Me!

Networks of erupting volcanoes thrust through the Martian crust like a geological case of the shingles. Devans wondered if it was as painful for the planet as the shingles virus had been to humans prior to M274S34; only there was no healing slash Homo sapiens extinguishing Martian

microbe solution for the resurrected planet. Entire regions shuddered, shook, spewed, heaved, gushed and flowed. Some areas were constantly in the throes, others dwindled into relative silence, and still other areas were unpredictable.

Hey, you were dead. Now you are not. You’re welcome.

About the Author

From his home in Wilmington, North Carolina, John Andrew Karr (also John A. Karr) writes of the strange and spectacular. He is the author of a handful of independent and small press novels and novellas, and also leaves in his wake a trail of short stories.


Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/John-A-Karr/e/B003DVNQ8G

Twitter: @johnandrewkarr1

Instagram/Tumblr: johnandrewkarr

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgMXLJ0MK2Q

Detonation Event: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07D6BDQBC

Rogue Planet: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07XFMCD21

John Andrew Karr is giving away a $50 Amazon/BN gift card to one randomly chosen winner during the tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Saturday, November 27, 2021

Charity Sunday for a Full Belly -- #CharitySunday #Hunger #Gratitude

Charity Sunday banner

Welcome to the Thanksgiving edition of Charity Sunday. With the holiday barely passed, I hope that you’re still in the process of counting your blessings and passing them on.

Speaking of passing them on, you can request a free holiday romance book just by leaving a comment on my Thanksgiving post


Anyway, after enjoying a Thanksgiving feast, today I’m supporting the Food Bank of Western Massachusetts. More specifically, I’m donating to an event that finished earlier this week, Monte’s March. Before I moved to Southeast Asia, I lived in the beautiful Pioneer Valley in western Mass, and I still feel a strong connection to the community there.

You might think hunger isn’t a problem in a wealthy, tech-centric state like Massachusetts, but once you get a hundred miles west of Boston things change a lot. Western Mass is largely rural, with plenty of families living on the edge of poverty.

I’ve already donated $25 to the March, which would be twelve comments at two bucks a comment. If I get more than twelve comments, I’ll make a second donation. In fact, I’ll give $3 for each comment over twelve!

Can we do that?

Of course we can...

Meanwhile, to amuse you, I have an excerpt from my holiday romance Slush – an excerpt focusing on how good even simple food can be, when you’re really hungry.

Be sure to leave a comment. And please do visit the other authors who are participating in today’s blog hop. They are all supporting worthy causes.

The kid retrieved a chipped mug from one of the crates piled up against the wall, filled it from a spigot above them, and handed it to Ian. “Here you go.”

Ian sniffed at the liquid before he took a sip. It smelled a bit musty, but he needed it too badly to care.

I managed to score some aspirin today, too. Think you could use it more than me.”

His host popped two white tablets into Ian’s palm. He peered down at them, dazed.

By Jesus! You think I’m gonna poison you?”

No, no, of course not.” He washed the medicine down with more of the water. Somehow he felt better already. “You’re very kind.”

The young man shrugged once more. “Anyone would do the same.”

Not me. If I saw you lying in the gutter, I wouldn’t look twice.

The thought gave him more pain than the throbbing lump at the back of his head. Was it really true?

Lie down. Rest. You hungry?”

Ian interrogated his battered body. “Um – no, I don’t think so.”

Well I am. Gotta get out of some of these clothes first, though. It’s getting pretty toasty in here.”

The kid yanked off his woolen cap. Ian gasped as masses of fine golden hair spilled down over those narrow shoulders.

You – you’re a woman!”

Yeah – you didn’t know?” Her peals of laughter made him blush with embarrassment. Rage simmered underneath. No doubt she thought him a fool. It was so obvious now – the slender body swaddled in second hand sweaters, the little hands, the delicate features and fair complexion... But who would have expected to find such a pretty girl in a place like this?

I’m sorry,” she said, gulping air in an attempt to smother her hilarity. “I sometimes forget. I’m not exactly a glamor queen these days.” She gestured at her raggedy clothing. “You don’t mind if I take some of this off, do you?”

Stunned, Ian shook his head. She peeled off a stretched out hoodie, two sweaters and a flannel shirt. After prying off her sneakers, she shed her baggy dungarees. Now she wore nothing but off-white athletic socks, a grass-green tee shirt and the scarlet long johns. Both of the latter clung to her willowy form, making it quite clear there was nothing underneath.

Despite his exhaustion and the pain in his head, Ian’s cock stirred inside his damp, hand-tailored trousers. You bastard, he thought. She saves your life, probably, and all you can think of is fucking her.

She didn’t notice. She was surveying her own petite body, the green top and red bottoms. “Wow,” she chuckled. “I look really Christmassy, don’t I?”

Her merriment was infectious. “All you need is a pointy cap and you could be one of Santa’s elves,” he told her.

Her face lit up with delight. “Thanks. I’m Daisy, by the way. Should have introduced myself before and spared you the shock.”

That’s okay. My name’s Ian.”

She fixed him with one of those direct stares. Her eyes were gray, he noticed, not the cornflower blue he would have expected given her hair.

Maybe you should take off your own wet things, Ian. Wouldn’t want you to catch pneumonia, or anything – after all the work of dragging you back here!”

They laughed together. Ian shucked his sports jacket and unbuttoned his dress shirt. Now that the fire had warmed the small space, his undershirt was more than adequate. He hesitated before removing his pants. His erection has subsided for the moment, but what if it returned? In the end, though, the feel of sodden fabric clinging to his skin was just too uncomfortable to endure. He hung the wet trousers over a rickety chair near the mattress, then draped his relatively dry shirt over his crotch – just in case.

An odd sense of well-being stole over him as he propped himself against the wall, watching Daisy move around her rudimentary shelter. Her every gesture had an economical grace. With her back to him, she busied herself at a makeshift counter of planks and cinder blocks along the opposite wall. He caught the snap of a match, the chemical odor of Sterno. Her blond tresses were a shower of gold, illuminated by the single dusty bulb in the ceiling, When she stood on tiptoe to grab something off a shelf near the ceiling, her pert buttocks flexed under the red long johns. Ian mentally scolded himself as his cock twitched and filled. But what could he do? She was, quite simply, enchanting.

A heavenly aroma filled the space. Ian’s stomach rumbled. “Oh my God, that smells delicious! What is it?”

Daisy smiled over her shoulder. “Just Campbell’s tomato soup. About all I can afford these days. You want some?”

Is there enough?” He felt so guilty, craving her meager supplies.

Sure. I’ve got some crackers, too.”

She brought him a steaming bowl and a bent, stamped metal spoon. “Careful, it’s hot.” She scattered cellophane-wrapped two-packs of saltines over the blanket. “Help yourself. It’s easy to filch more from work.”

You have a job?” He dipped his spoon into the soup then blew on the hot surface. The smell reminded him of his childhood. His mom used to make tomato soup when he came in from playing in the snow.

Sure. What’d you think, I was some kind of bum? At Donut Heaven, down on Huntington Ave. Only part time, and not even minimum wage, but I get a free uniform, lunch if I don’t have a split shift, and all the day-old doughnuts I can eat. Unfortunately, they make awful doughnuts.” She gave a rueful chuckle. “But it’s a lot better than nothing!”

Seating herself cross-legged on the mattress beside him, she tucked into her soup with the single-minded intensity of someone who was famished. “I was off today, though,” she added, as if in explanation.

For a while, they savored their soup in silence. What a mystery she was – beautiful, kind, self-sufficient, living on the streets, or nearly. What was her story?

Been homeless for nearly six months now.” She spoke matter-of-factly, as if he’d asked the question aloud. “Came here last spring from West Virginia with my boyfriend Hank. Hank had folks here, an uncle who swore he’d get us good paying jobs in the hospitality industry. Turns out the uncle ran a so-called strip club up on Route 1. He’d paid Hank to bring me up here. Once I saw how things were, I ditched Hank and set out on my own.”

That was brave. Why didn’t you go back to West Virginia?”

She set down her empty bowl. “Honestly? Weren’t much down there for me either, unless I wanted to marry some jerk and pop out kids. No, I figured I’d have a better chance here in the city. I didn’t realize how hard it would be, not knowing anyone. I was willing to do pretty much any kind of legal work, but with economy in the toilet and the cost of living...”

Her head bowed, her hair falling over her face. For the first time Ian heard weariness in her voice. How could he begin to understand what this girl had been through? He’d never lacked for anything – at least not anything material.

Don’t forget to visit the other bloggers joining me today. And don’t forget to count your blessings!

Friday, November 26, 2021

That was the charm of thermodynamics -- #NSFW #SciFi #EngineersInLove

It Starts With a Kiss cover

She should have said yes when he offered her a hand. She should have let him in here and sat him down. Would he be as good with gift-wrap as he was with his consoles? Or would he have just sat on the bed making smartarse remarks while she cut into the paper and ribbon?

That message would have come in. She would have let it go unanswered. Maybe she still would have spilled her cider and he’d sit there, watching while she got her kit off.

Maybe he’d offer her a hand and, this time, she’d say yes. He’d pull her top down—all the way down, not stopping at the waist. With a hand on his shoulder for support, she’d step out. She’d feel his breath on her thighs—that’s how close his face would be. Warmingly close. Awkwardly close.

Except, it wouldn’t be awkward. He’d crack a joke. She’d laugh and fire one back. They’d banter like they always did, but she’d be smooth instead of nervous. They’d collapse on the bed and he’d kiss her—softly at first, then deeply—while his hand traveled up her leg.

Celeste dropped her sodden garment on the desk and slid to the floor, remembering that time they spacewalked together to replace a row of lights. Afterwards, they changed together in the locker room. He hardly looked at her except in passing mid-chat, but she sure noticed him. That was the first time she’d seen him without a shirt on. Off had come the shellsuit, exposing his toned physique. She had no idea he worked his body so hard. He’d only gotten fitter and better looking since.

It was warm in her room now. Had the heating kicked in?

Her fingers moved between her legs while her other hand clutched at her breast. He was bigger than she was, and no doubt, his skin would feel warm on hers. That was the charm of thermodynamics. He’d lie on top and the artificial gravity would pull him into her as it pulled them both onto the bed. She’d reach for his cock and find it hard and waiting.

But he wouldn’t force it onto her. He wasn’t like that. He wasn’t forward like Martin or sexist like that guy who hit on Katie just after she started. He wasn’t sleazy like that temp or gross like Carl or a corporate bull like David Blythe. No, Owen Larson was a real, down-to-earth nice guy. If she wanted his cock inside her, she’d have to look him in the eye and ask for it.


It Starts with a Kiss by JL Peridot

Celeste is a talented engineer who doesn’t realize her job’s going nowhere fast. She’s a little naïve. She’ll cut code and solder cables forever as long as Owen’s around. Owen, on the other hand, knows exactly how badly things suck—he just doesn’t care. Sure, his skills aren’t what they used to be, but they’re still better than what Halcyon Aries deserves.

Then it happens. The company’s toxic management team finally cross the line. As both techies race to upgrade the station and to free the team from their oppressive contracts, they come to learn that life—and love—can only ever be what you make it.

Strap in for a steamy office romance in space, because sometimes It Starts With a Kiss!

Available now from e-book retailers.

Content warnings: Depictions of toxic office management practices, workplace harassment, and harassment in a customer service context. Depictions of workplace romance (with consent). Strong language. Explicit sexual content including self-pleasure and MF sex.

Reviews & Praise

A perfect mix of romcom, romance, and sci-fi.” (Goodreads 5-star review)

The scifi elements feel real, I'd say especially to anyone that's worked in IT, and the romance and suspense ebbs and flows so nicely. Really gorgeous and fun, really recommended.” (Goodreads 5-star review)

JL didn't create characters, she wrote real people. That's how they read on the page and I loved it.” (Goodreads 5-star review)

About JL Peridot

JL Peridot (sometimes credited as J.L. Peridot) writes love letters to the future on devices from the past. In her spare time, she nerds out over cryptic crosswords, calisthenics, and mechanical keyboards. She currently resides in Boorloo (Perth, Australia) on Whadjuk Noongar country.

Visit her website at jlperidot.com for the full catalogue of her work.

Website: https://jlperidot.com

Newsletter: https://jlperidot.com/#dotclub

Thank you, Lisabet, for having me on your blog 💜

Thursday, November 25, 2021

Shopping for A CEO’s Honeymoon by Julia Kent is FREE November 10-30! (@jkentauthor) #RomCom #FreeBook

Shopping for a CEO's Honeymoon blitz banner


Free November 10-30, 2021

Whispersync the audio on Amazon for $7.49



He says we never had a proper honeymoon.

So, instead, he’s giving me… a prepper honeymoon?

Who knew billionaire preppers were a thing?

I guess I’m about to find out.

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.

Buy links

Google Play: http://bit.ly/2rHcnWw
Apple Books:
Amazon ALL:

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2IEChDX

Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2L21jLF

BookBub: https://bit.ly/3ERN1Zb

Audiobook narrated by Sebastian York and Amy McFadden

Audible: https://mybook.to/SFACeoHoney_Audible

iTunes: https://mybook.to/SFACeoHoney_iTunes

Amazon Audible: https://mybook.to/SFACeoHoney_AznAudio




It’s Monday.

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.


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.”

Is that a threat or a promise?”

I get a pat on the ass in response.

About the Author

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.

Social Media Links

Website: http://jkentauthor.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jkentauthor

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2PIBi9n

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jkentauthor/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/julia-kent

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3238619.Julia_Kent

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Julia-Kent/e/B00A99V268/

Freebie blitz organized by Writer Marketing Services.