We’re celebrating the release of TWISTED TWOSOME by Meghan Quinn! Check out the excerpt below!

We’re celebrating the release of  TWISTED TWOSOME by Meghan Quinn! Check out the excerpt below!

TWISTED TWOSOME

NA Romantic Comedy

 Purchase: http://hyperurl.co/99udeh

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2uarCWF

 

From the first day I met Racer McKay, I knew our interaction was going to be incredibly brief. First impressions really do matter and unfortunately, I didn’t make a very good one.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I was never going to see this man again, right? 

Wrong! When I’m met with the opportunity of a lifetime, there is only one man in the state of New York who can assist me. And can you guess who it is? 

But what I don’t realize is he needs me just as much as I need him. I have money he’s desperate for, and he holds the key to making my dreams come true. 

So, we reluctantly join forces.

Our pranks turn from sarcastic banter, to sexual tension and lust-filled glances. Bickering matches quickly morph into slow burn moments. We’re hot, we’re cold. We push and pull. I need him, I don’t want him. We’re on the verge of combusting with an agreement dangling dangerously between us. Neither one of us can afford to lose one another and yet, we’re finding it quite hard to decipher the line that rests between love and hate.

*Twisted Twosome is a stand alone romantic comedy.

 

**GEORGIANA**

“So, are you ready for tonight?” Madison asks. 

 

The heat of the sun intensifies with the mention of tonight. It’s beating down on

me, building up the pressure, circling me in an inferno of what’s to come. 

 

Tonight. 

 

I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous in my entire life. Even when I was

forced to go with Danny Leshay to senior prom because it was part of my

father’s business deal with a client. My dad buys out a lumberyard, and in

return, I have to go with the guy’s son to prom. Thoughts of being stabbed and

murdered on the side of the road by someone I didn’t know terrified me.

Thanks, Dad!

 

“I’m prepared but so freaking nervous.” I turn on my side and face Madison. “I

have that sinking feeling he’s going to say no.”

 

“How can he say no, G? You’ve run through your presentation a million times.

I’ve seen it. You are solid with all your numbers, with your projections; it’s an

easy yes.”

 

“To any other businessman, my presentation is an easy yes, but to my dad . . . I

have this horrible feeling it’s going to be a hard pass.”

 

And that’s the honest truth. He’s a good man, but when it comes to me, I’m his

little girl, not an aspiring entrepreneur. 

 

“You might be surprised.” Madison takes a big sip from her drink. “He wasn’t

happy at first about you going to Northwestern and earning your master’s in

business, but he changed his mind about that.”

 

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because on paper, I’m more appealing to one of the

‘husbands’ my dad has chosen for me. An educated girl is a girl with goals and

motivation, one that will be able to participate with knowledgeable

commentary in dry, pointless conversations at charitable events. My entire life

leading to this point has been a long and drawn-out finishing school run, and

operated by my father, preparing me for the very moment I meet the one man I

can stand at his side, woo his clients, and be the trophy wife I’ve been morphed

into.” I set my drink on the table between us and rest my hands under my

cheek. “I want so much more, Madison.”

 

“If you had red hair and was brushing it with a fork right now, I would think

you were the little mermaid.”

 

“I’m serious.” I laugh just as cursing from a thousand men breaks up our little

conversation. 

 

From the side of the pool where renovations for the pool house are taking

place, the lone construction worker is holding his finger between his jean-clad

legs. 

 

Madison sits up and lifts her sunglasses to get a look at the commotion. “Did

you hammer a nail into your finger over there?”

 

The man who’s been working on the building for a few weekends looks up at

us. His head is covered by a backward black baseball cap, his chest is bronze

from working many hours outside this summer, and it’s hard not to notice the

corded muscles wrapped around his entire body, from his chiseled stomach to

his powerful biceps. To be honest, it hasn’t been a chore watching him these

last few weekends.

 

What’s-His- Name looks up and pops his finger in his mouth, sucking on it as

his body ripples under the brightness of the sun. 

 

“Damn,” Madison mutters under her breath just as the man pops his finger out

of his mouth. “Mama likes.”

 

Unable to hear Madison slowly discredit his self-respect, he gruffly says, “I’m

good.” Not giving us a second thought, he shakes his hand and turns back

toward his project. 

 

Never having spoken to the man—I’ve only seen him around—I cautiously say,

“You sure? Kind of looks like you’re hurt.”

 

Slowly he turns his head in my direction, his eyes cutting me a look of

indignation. “I’m good, Princess. No need to set your cocktail down to check

on me.”

 

Pardon me? Was that attitude?

 

I sit up, my legs straddling my lounge chair and tip my sunglasses up so he can

see my dissatisfaction in his choice of words. “It’s Georgiana, not princess.”

 

Picking up his hammer, he shoves it in a holster attached to his side and says,

“Could have fooled me.”

 

“Oooooo,” Madison says as if she’s in grade school. “Burned.” She sits back in

her chair, taking a sip of her drink as if she’s preparing for the show of a

lifetime, one she might just get. 

 

Slowly, I set my drink down and stand. I adjust the fabric of my swimsuit

bottom so it’s covering my ass and saunter over to the man, now sorting nails

as he casually glances in my direction. 

 

When I stand in front of him, I watch his eyes travel over my barely covered

frame until he meets me head-on. His staggering height doesn’t intimidate me,

even though he towers over my petite frame. He appears strong and powerful

with a hard set in his jaw. 

 

“What did you say?” I ask, a hand on my hip. 

 

Not giving me his complete attention, he says, “You heard what I said or else

you wouldn’t be over here trying to put on a front.”

 

“Put on a front?” My voice sounds a little shrill from the accusation. “I’m not

putting on a front.”

 

“Yeah?” He pulls a rag from his back pocket, lifts his hat, and wipes his brow.

His blond hair sticks up in all different directions with beads of sweat at the tips

that aren’t covered by his hat. “So you’re not trying to act intimidating in front

of your friend? You know, push around the hired help to make yourself feel

better?”

 

“Excuse me?” Two seconds ago I was irritated, now I’m mad. “How dare you

make such an awful accusation about me. You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know enough,” he answers and turns around to nail another board for the

new siding. His incessant hammering has ensured a headache all morning.

 

“Hey.” I poke his sweaty back, trying to ignore how amazingly tight it feels

under my index finger. “I suggest if you want to keep your job you show a little

respect.”

 

Whoa, can we all say it together? Georgiana, you’re a bitch. The words felt

dirty leaving my mouth. I really don’t act like this, like my—gulp—parents, but

I’m tired, anxious about meeting with my dad, and irritated. It’s a cataclysmic

combination and when that happens, nothing good comes from it. I’m about to

apologize when he starts to go off on me. 

 

“Respect? You want to talk respect?” He spins on his heel and holds up his

hammer. “What do you know about respect, Princess? From where I see it, you

know nothing. Every weekend I’ve been here, you’ve ordered people around,

watching them wait on you hand and foot, complained about not having any

money, gossiped about every bad boob job in town, and have yet to be pleasant

to anyone who stands an inch beneath you.” He goes to hammer again but turns

around once more and says, “And the heels you just had to wear out to the pool

ripped a fucking hole in my nail gun hose, giving me no other option than to

nail these boards by hand, adding on time I can’t afford. So, Princess, excuse

me for upsetting you, but I’m sticking with the nickname. It fits you to a T. Oh,

and just so you know, sandals. Sandals are the proper footwear you should be

wearing around the pool.” He rolls his eyes, turns around, and starts hammering

another nail into the siding of the pool house. 

 

How dare he!

 

“That’s what you think I am? Some whiney brat?”

 

“If the unnecessary high heel fits, Princess.” 

 

Unsure of what to do. I stomp my foot and say, “Well, I’m not.” 

 

Pretty sure my reaction just solidified his assumption. 

 

“Tantrums don’t work on me; try your daddy.” He continues to hammer away,

his back muscles shimmering with each movement. 

 

“Maybe I will. We’ll see what he has to say about this little conversation.” 

He places another nail against the board and starts hammering. “Wouldn’t be

shocked if you did. You step on my hose, ruin my chances of getting this

project done today, which only prolongs my time here, cutting down on my

chance to make more money since I’m getting paid a flat rate, and now you

want to get me fired. Sounds about right. Can’t take the blame for anything.”

 

No one has ever been so disrespectful to me. 

 

“How was I supposed to know I stepped on your stupid hosey thing?”

 

“Maybe if you pay attention to people and objects around you, you may have

noticed.”

 

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” He has me all wrong, and it is really bothering

me that he pictures me as a spoiled, inconsiderate, self-consumed brat. That’s

not who I am at all. 

 

“How do you figure? Because the way I see it, you’re the jerk.” His body fully

turns around to face me, challenge in his eyes, maybe a bit of humor at the

corner of his lips as he awaits my answer. 

 

Holding my chin high, I say, “Because, instead of having a hissy fit like a

petulant child, you could have come over to me and said, ‘Miss Westbrook,

sorry to bother you, but you seem to have poked a hole in my hose.’ But instead

you decided to stew over here and then pick on me when I was trying to see if

you were okay from your inability to hammer a nail into a piece of wood

properly. It’s called being an adult.”

 

He studies me, hands on his hips, not showing any kind of reaction. “Being an

adult, huh? And you think you’re an expert at that?”

 

“I would say I’m well-versed in the topic.”

 

He nods, his teeth biting down on his lower lip as his eyes flick to where

Madison is sitting. “Well-versed, interesting. Tell me, when did adults start

eating dinosaur chicken nuggets for lunch?”

 

Just when I’m about to reply, Madison calls out, “Nuggies are ready, G. Come

eat T-Rex’s arms with me. Roar!” 

 

I shut my eyes tight, willing for this moment to disappear, maybe praying for

the ground to swallow me whole due to Madison’s poor timing. The infuriating

man says with a smile, “Your nuggies are ready, Princess. Don’t want them

getting cold.”

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Novels from Authors ➻

Sarah O’Rourke

ML Rodriguez

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Winter Travers

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Trinity Rose

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Surprise Cover Reveal

THE BEAUTIFUL NOW

M. Leighton

Coming September 26, 2017

 

Dane James worked my stepfather’s fields. He was the boy next door. 

 

Strong. 

Hardworking. 

Forbidden.

 

From the moment we met, we were star-crossed lovers—always wanting, never having. We loved each other for most of our lives, but right from the beginning Destiny had other plans.  She knew we would fall in love.  She knew we would fall apart.  Over and over again, like the curse of a recurring nightmare.  Or the hope of a familiar dream.  

 

Our past was tumultuous.  Our future was bleak.  But the one thing we always had was the beautiful now.

 

Until that was taken from us, too.

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He’s not a douchebag;

but that doesn’t stop his friends from

turning him into one.

 

 

MY FRIENDS WANT ME TO GET LAID.

So much so that they plastered my ugly mug all over campus, in bold printed letters:

Are you the lucky lady who’s going to break our roommate’s cherry?

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The morons can’t even spell. And the texts I’ve been receiving are what wet dreams are made of. But I’m not like these douchebags, no matter how hard they try to turn me into one.

THIS ISN’T THE KIND OF ATTENTION I WANT.

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However, after seeing her in person, I know she’s not the girl for me. But my friends won’t let up—they just don't get it. Douchebags or not, there's one thing they'll never understand: GIRLS DON’T WANT ME.

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He’s seated at a table in the far corner when I spot him from the door. He’s not hard to miss—not with his purple t-shirt in a sea of black and yellow, and wavy mussed hair.

He’s slouching, hunched over his table.

Defeated. Tired.

My stomach rolls with nerves, nerves that have me rooted to the spot in the doorway, watching him.
Just watching.

For the entire four minutes I stand here, he sits immobile, studying his laptop, eyes moving along the screen, completely transfixed by whatever he’s reading.

Learning.

“Just go over there,” I whisper to myself, blowing out a puff of pent-up air.

I put one foot in front of the other and begin toward him, spine ramrod straight, steeling myself, prepared for another argument.

Twenty feet.

Fifteen.

Eight.

Two.

“Hi.”

No reply.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” I lay my hand on the back of the wooden chair across from him, intending to pull it out.

He stiffens but doesn’t lift his head. “Yes I mind.”

“Would you mind if I sat at the table next to you?” I’m pushing his buttons, looking for a reaction, but he only spares me a brief glance.

Shrugs. “Free country.”

I bite my lip to hide a smile, glad he didn’t tell me to take a hike…

 

 

 

Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series, and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced latte's, historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.

She lives with her husband, children, and her ridiculously large dog.

Facebook| Twitter | Instagram

Are you ready for Racer?

We’re celebrating the release of  TWISTED TWOSOME by Meghan Quinn!

 

 

TWISTED TWOSOME
NA Romantic Comedy

 Purchase: http://hyperurl.co/99udeh

Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2uarCWF

From the first day I met Racer McKay, I knew our interaction was going to be incredibly brief. First impressions really do matter and unfortunately, I didn’t make a very good one.

At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I was never going to see this man again, right?

Wrong! When I’m met with the opportunity of a lifetime, there is only one man in the state of New York who can assist me. And can you guess who it is?

But what I don’t realize is he needs me just as much as I need him. I have money he’s desperate for, and he holds the key to making my dreams come true.

So, we reluctantly join forces.

Our pranks turn from sarcastic banter, to sexual tension and lust-filled glances. Bickering matches quickly morph into slow burn moments. We’re hot, we’re cold. We push and pull. I need him, I don’t want him. We’re on the verge of combusting with an agreement dangling dangerously between us. Neither one of us can afford to lose one another and yet, we’re finding it quite hard to decipher the line that rests between love and hate.

 

 

*Twisted Twosome is a stand alone romantic comedy.

 

 

 

Excerpt:

“Thanks for lunch, I haven’t had a fine peanut butter and jelly sandwich in quite some time.” Racer takes a giant bite from one of three sandwiches I made him. The man can eat; I just want to know where he puts it all. “What is this, crunchy peanut butter?” He looks over the sandwich, studying it intently.
“Yes, it’s crunchy with mixed berry jam.”
He nods and takes another bite. He talks with his mouth full, which for some weird reason makes him oddly adorable. “Nice touch, George. The peanuts add a nice texture.”
“Are you going all food critic on my PB and J skills right now?”
Lifting his shirt, he dabs away some of the sweat that’s collecting on his forehead, beneath his backward hat. His abs flex with the movement, drawing my attention. Each divot calling out to me to touch, to examine . . . to lick.
“I think every human should be judged on their PB and J skills.”
I pull my eyes away from his stomach just in time not to get caught staring. “Why do you think that?”
“Because,” he takes another bite, “I think building a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is in everyone’s repertoire, but only the truly skilled know how to make a proper one. And I want to be friends with the truly skilled.”
“Is that so?” I take a drink of my green tea and study him for a second, watching the way the muscles in his jaw move with each bite and swallow. It’s sexy.
His neck is sexy? Is that possible?
“So where do I land on your scale of sandwich artists?”
He smiles from my term, and I realize how much I adore his boyish charm. Pulling his eyes away from me, he examines one of the sandwiches I made him and starts assessing it. “Good ratio of peanut butter to jelly. Nice choice in bread. The crunch you added has been a pleasant surprise, and the mixed berry jam is fucking delightful.” I giggle from his girly term. “But . . .”
I perk up; there’s a but? “But what?”
He quirks his mouth to the side, almost to say, “Sorry, but you’re not quite perfect.” “The bread, it should have been toasted. Toasting it would have taken you to boss level when it comes to the PB and J.”
“Toasting it?”
He nods and takes another bite. “When you don’t toast a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the peanut butter and bread form a paste on the roof of your mouth. Even though it tastes good, it can get quite irritating.”
“But I didn’t have a toaster.”
“Rookie mistake.”
“Well, If I knew I was going to be critiqued, I would have sprung for bacon.”
He pauses mid bite and stares at me over his sandwich. “You’re a beast for bringing up the option.”
I polish off the rest of my sandwich and wipe my fingers. “Well, maybe next time you’ll communicate expectations better. I’m not a mind reader, Racer. Frankly, the fact I didn’t make boss level is on you, not me.”
I stand and gather my trash as he stares me down. “Don’t you turn this on me. You didn’t have a toaster. The toaster is what’s key. This is on you, Georgie. This is on you!” he calls out as I make my way to the back, laughing to myself the entire time.
About the Author:
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!
Find me on Goodreads:

 

Cassy Maria’s Review of Twisted Twosome

Meghan a Quinn has done it again!!! Twisted Twosome is beyond amazing!
Georgiana is not the wealthy snob everyone makes her out to be, she dreams of making it on her own and opening her own business. Enter Racer McKay, from the moment the two meet sparks fly and they butt heads but when Georgiana’s father blacklists her from using contractors, Racer is the only one who can help her out. Racer needs money and taking second jobs is the way to get it, but working for the sexy as hell Georgie is going to be harder on him then he expected. There really is a fine line between love and hate.
Alright I need to find a Racer of my own, Meghan Quinn has written the perfect book boyfriend in Racer, he’s sweet, sexy and good with his hands. Let me tell you the chemistry between Georgie and Racer is phenomenal the banter is priceless. I loved seeing some familiar faces and meeting some new lovable characters. In true Meghan Quinn style Twisted Twosome is a laugh out loud romantic comedy but also have Kleenex on hand while reading is at it brings on all the feels and you will be crying. Twisted Twosome really has been one of my favourite reads this year and I cannot wait for more.