My Best Friend’s Ex, an all new sexy, laugh out loud romantic comedy is coming June 1st. Preorder today!
My
Best Friend’s Ex by Meghan Quinn
Publication Date: June 1st, 2017
Genre:
Contemporary Romance
Photographer: Neil Danvers
When I found an eviction notice taped on my apartment door, I
had two options: find a comfortable cardboard box to call home, or move in with
Tucker Jameson.
Seeing that cardboard makes me feel itchy, I chose the latter.
Which shouldn't be that big of a deal since Tucker is one of my good friends.
And because he's still pining after his ex-girlfriend and I'm trying to finish
my nursing degree, there is nothing to worry about in the romance department,
making my last semester an easy one to conquer.
Boy, was I wrong.
Rules are set, dinners are made, conversations are had, and a
shirtless, swoony roommate walks around in nothing but a pair of black briefs,
ruining me for every other man.
Before I know it, I turn into a panting, lust-filled woman begging
for Tucker to kiss me, touch me, and show me exactly what is hiding under those
briefs.
But with great orgasms, comes great consequences.
Tucker might be my friend and roommate but he’s also my best
friend's ex-boyfriend, making him completely off-limits. At least that's what
my brain is telling me, my heart is speaking an entirely different language.
Excerpt
“Morning,” Tucker’s deep voice rattles off the
cabinets. It’s his morning voice, deeper, throatier—if that makes sense—and I
hate to admit it, because he’s just my friend, but sexier.
Once my pupils adjust to the light, I take
Tucker in. He’s standing in front of the stove, rubber spatula in hand, wearing
a white long-sleeve Henley shirt, the top two buttons undone, a pair of worn
jeans with a few paint stains on them, and tan work boots. Sweet Jesus, he
makes construction look good. Strap a tool belt around his waist and stick him
in front of a camera for the benefit of all womankind.
“Morning,” I say in reply, using the counter to
help hold up my tired body. “You’re up early. What time do you have to go into
work?”
“Around seven thirty. I like to get an early
start before the boys come in.” He looks me up and down, a small smile at the
corner of his lips. “You look good.” He motions around his head with his hand.
“I really like what you did with your hair.”
I turn toward the window in the kitchen and
check out my reflection. Sure enough, my long brown hair looks like a lion’s
mane poofed out and framing my face with an abundance of volume. Beautiful.
There is no use in taming it, so I leave my hair
as is and turn back toward Tucker. “Not many people can get this kind of height
while sleeping.” I pretend to fluff my hair.
“Impressive.” He chuckles and then points to the
coffee maker with the spatula. “Coffee is done, mugs are above in the cabinet.
Grab me a cup, will ya? Eggs will be done shortly, bacon is warming in the
oven.”
I do as directed, thinking it’s kind of cute how
he’s including me in on his little morning breakfast. “I didn’t even know you
had eggs. I was expecting to hit up Dunkin’ Donuts or Tim Horton’s this
morning.”
He turns off the stove and reaches for two
plates from the dish rack. “I went to Walmart this morning. Picked up a few
things.”
“This morning?” I pour two cups of coffee and
turn toward him. “What time did you wake up?”
“Four thirty,” he answers casually. “Got a quick
run in, did some weights, took a shower and then went to Walmart.” He fills our
plates with bacon and eggs and then nods toward the dining room, plates and
silverware in hand. “I have a surprise.”
I follow him to the dining room where he flips
on the light and reveals a card table fold-out dining set.
“You got a table.” I chuckle, loving that it’s a
fold-out card table with matching chairs. Anything is better than the floor.
“And placemats,” he adds, as he lifts two
plastic placemats from one of the chairs. “The options were bleak so I went
with dinosaurs for me and Trolls for you. Given the look of your morning hair,
Trolls was the right choice.” Clever
bastard. He sets them on the table and then puts our plates on top of them.
God, it’s too freaking cute. Chuckling, I take a
seat and hand him his coffee. “Look at you getting all domestic. I never
thought you would be a placemat kind of man, I stand corrected.”
He rests a napkin on his legs, which are spread
drastically, almost the length of the table and leans over to fork some eggs
into his mouth. “Didn’t want our food to damage the plastic of this high-class
table.” I love the humor in his voice, it reminds me of all the good times we
had, before the end of his relationship with Sadie.
“Smart man, you want this table to last.”
“Of course, you don’t see fine furniture like
this in houses anymore. Everything has to be so sturdy. What ever happened to
rickety furniture and living through a meal with the threat of your food
possibly kissing the floor at any point in time?”
“The horror,” I joke.
He looks up at me. Some of his hair is still wet
from his shower. Pointing his fork at me he says, “Are you ready to be
schooled?”
“Schooled on what?” I take a bite of bacon and
my stomach jumps in excitement for finally rewarding it for waking up early.
All right, I will admit it, getting out of bed was a smart idea.
“It’s Monday, babe. DJ Hot Cock has his song
picked and ready to show you what real music is.”
“When was my music taste ever questioned? I like
good music.”
“We’ll see.” He reaches into his pocket and
pulls out his phone. I watch as he flips through it until he lands on the song
he wants to introduce me to. He presses play and sets his phone on the table.
The light pickings of a guitar fill the small dining room. I don’t recognize
the song, but I like the sound of it so far.
Just as I’m settling in to the sweet pickings of
a guitar, the distinct voice of Zac Brown chimes in. I’ve known Tucker for
loving EMO growing up, so his choice in a country song is very surprising to
me, but when I look up at him, pure hometown country boy sitting across from
me, it makes perfect sense.
And then the lyrics hit me. My Old Man. Zac sings about his father, hoping he’s proud of the
man he’s become. I’m transported back to a dreary day in Whitney Point, where
we grew up, when Sadie called me one Saturday morning. I was getting ready for
the day. We were in middle school. Tucker’s dad was killed by a head-on
collision, the dad Tucker just reconnected with, the dad Tucker had plans on
moving in with to get away from his neglectful mom. Those next few days—and weeks—were
a whirlwind of sorrow. Attending his funeral, my first ever funeral, seeing the
look of devastation on Tucker’s face, wondering what he might be feeling,
trying to channel his hurt, it was so much to take on as a teenager.
Glancing up, I take in Tucker’s expression. He’s
lost in the music, in the words, just like me. When the song ends, I lean over
and place my hand on his, our eyes meet and there is an unspoken understanding
between us. I don’t have to say anything about his dad, about the tragedy we
went through so many years ago together as friends. It’s all said between this
silent exchange.
About the Author
A BLONDE AT HEART
Born in New York and raised in Southern California, Meghan has grown into a sassy, peanut butter eating, blonde haired swearing, animal hoarding lady. She is known to bust out and dance if “It’s Raining Men” starts beating through the air and heaven forbid you get a margarita in her, protect your legs because they may be humped.
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
Once she started commuting for an hour and twenty minutes every day to work for three years, she began to have conversations play in her head, real life, deep male voices and dainty lady coos kind of conversations. Perturbed and confused, she decided to either see a therapist about the hot and steamy voices running through her head or start writing them down. She decided to go with the cheaper option and started writing… enter her first novel, Caught Looking.
Now you can find the spicy, most definitely on the border of lunacy, kind of crazy lady residing in Colorado with the love of her life and her five, furry four legged children, hiking a trail or hiding behind shelves at grocery stores, wondering what kind of lube the nervous stranger will bring home to his wife. Oh and she loves a good boob squeeze!
No comments:
Post a Comment