Today, I'm hosting a promo on Rie Warren's latest release a May/December Romance, Why Her? (Mistaken Identities #2), as a part of the ongoing release blitz tour. Also find an excerpt for your enjoyment.
Why Her?
Rie Warren
(Mistaken Identities #2)
Published: August 20, 2018
If you believe in second chances . . .
All I did was dance with her at a bar. Just once.
Then this undeniably gorgeous party girl, Stevie, turns up at my house, the contractor in charge of my remodel.
Ha!
How am I supposed to take her seriously?
The problem is she’s excellent at her job, which aggravates me even more.
She’s changing my house, changing my life, and my animal urge to protect and possess her feels like a betrayal to my deceased wife.
She’s absolutely unsuitable.
He’s uptight, f*** hot, and there’s no way she can compete with the ghost of his wife.
A book full of filthy sex and beautiful tortured romance. Why Her? is a standalone novel with a tear-worthy HEA, no cheating, no cliffhangers, just all yes. Keep the fan handy, you’ll need it.
All I did was dance with her at a bar. Just once.
Then this undeniably gorgeous party girl, Stevie, turns up at my house, the contractor in charge of my remodel.
Ha!
How am I supposed to take her seriously?
The problem is she’s excellent at her job, which aggravates me even more.
She’s changing my house, changing my life, and my animal urge to protect and possess her feels like a betrayal to my deceased wife.
She’s absolutely unsuitable.
He’s uptight, f*** hot, and there’s no way she can compete with the ghost of his wife.
A book full of filthy sex and beautiful tortured romance. Why Her? is a standalone novel with a tear-worthy HEA, no cheating, no cliffhangers, just all yes. Keep the fan handy, you’ll need it.
An Excerpt from Why Her?:
I’D RUSHED OUT IN such a hurry after almost
kissing Kane again that I’d gotten
all the way home before I realized I’d forgotten my laser level at his house.
It wasn’t one hundred percent necessary I retrieve it tonight, but my dad’s
rules were nailed into my head, and number one above all was his creed to treat
your tools like your job depended on it.
Kane’s
cool as fuck Mercedes was in the driveway, and I thought about knocking, but
he’d already scolded me a few times about that, so I slipped inside and headed
toward the kitchen where I’d last seen the digital level.
“Fuck,
Stevie.” Kane’s deep voice stopped me dead in my tracks.
I
thought he’d heard me enter the house, and I was just about to jump around the
corner of the living room to explain I’d forgotten my level when he growled
out, “Suck my cock.”
Ohhhhh.
Oh
my God.
Heat
flushed my body in an instant. With a hand covering my mouth, I tiptoed through
the entryway and peeked into the living room.
Oh my fucking God.
Kane
sat in a large leather chair, head thrown back.
Tie
askew.
Shirt
unbuttoned.
Sculpted
tanned chest covered in soft-looking sooty-colored hair that arrowed to a thin
line along his abdominals before . . .
Pants
open, and Oh. My. God. COCK.
Oh
Jesus Christ.
Kane
was hung.
He
gripped a fat, furiously hard dick in one large hand, pulling up on the veined
beast until his knuckles butted the head. A large head that was dark and
swollen and slick.
Mouthwatering.
Not
to mention the pure filth pouring from his
mouth.
“Take
it deeper, baby,” Kane ordered the me he clearly fantasized about, and I
imagined crawling up to him, taking that incredibly hard cock all the way into
my throat.
I
bit down on my lip, straining to go to him, knowing I shouldn’t watch him.
Helpless
to do anything but.
Arousal
skittered to my pussy in a flash. Liquid seeped from my cunt. Swollen nipples
puckered beneath my bra. I wanted to slip a hand between my thighs to relieve
the tingling ache as goose bumps erupted across my flesh.
Wet
sounds echoed from Kane’s long slow strokes. More precum poured out and his
whole cock glistened with each snick
snick snick.
Kane
Bishop.
Suave.
Distinguished. And absolutely dirty.
His
grip tightened at the thick base, and his other hand trailed lightly up and
over the long length, fingers swirling across the tip then cruising back down
faster.
Until
he drew his hands away to clench the arms of the chair, a grunt parting his
lips.
“Don’t
wanna come to soon.”
I
couldn’t move. The slick lips of my pussy rubbed together. Wiggling a little, I
tried not to make a sound even though a whimper crawled up my throat.
He
was magnificent when he went back to pumping his cock in a two-fisted hold that
started out loose at the root then closed over the swelling purplish head.
Large
hands.
Probably
hot hands.
Rough
hands that had barely grazed my breasts earlier.
“Yes.
Lick my balls.” He lifted the weighty-looking sac and ran a thumb down the
center, separating each testicle.
I
covered my mouth with a hand, almost crying out with lurid need.
About the Author:
Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavor, the Carolina Bad Boys series, is fun, hot, and southern-sexy.
A
Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a
writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry
without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for
paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art
school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in
between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called
edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency.
Author Links:You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency.
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