18+“I'm no Prince Charming. I’m not good for anyone and I doubt I ever will be.” [...]
“If I said I didn’t care about you, that would be a lie. I do. Am I in love with you?” He waited, measuring her expression, relaxing when she didn’t look afraid. “No, sorry, I’m not. But I like the way we move together.
She left glitter in his AC vents. He put green dye in her conditioner.
She buttered his bathroom floor, and he kidnapped her precious puppy.
Layla Mullens hates Donovan Donley. His crude language, his wide shoulders, his crystal blue eyes…she hates that she can’t stop herself…from kissing him or landing in his bed.
And Donovan Donley wants nothing more than to knock Layla off her princess pedestal. He hates her stuck up attitude and her soft, tempting lips. He especially hates that her father is his coach.
But he’s fine with their arrangement—act horrible to each other during the day, attack each other naked at night. It works.
But one night changes everything. When Layla doesn’t show, and Donovan’s cold bed stays empty, the lies he tells himself to keep Layla out of his mind aren’t enough to keep him from missing her. And needing her. Something he promised himself would never happen.
The white flags in their prank war have been lowered but their high stakes battle has just begun.
“You’re disgusting,” she told him, but her voice carried no venom.
“And you’re a complete and utter bitch.”
She wanted to hit him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted Donovan to do something, anything but glare at her the way he was. And then, before she could think which she wanted more, Layla got her wish.
His mouth was controlling, consuming, teeth against her bottom lip, opening her up to the invasion of his tongue. It was warm, thick and she felt it all over her body, with every thrust of his mouth on hers, with how tight his fingers pulled and squeezed her ass. Donovan wasn’t gentle, wasn’t sweet. This wasn’t a kiss that was meant to be tender. This was a full bodied, take control kiss and Layla had no idea why she wasn’t resisting, why she liked it so much. But she didn’t resist, and she did like it, so much. Too damn much.
She moved her hand, curling her fingers into his t-shirt, let a low, soft moan work up her throat and she didn’t think about how much she hated him, how surely, kissing Donovan should repulse her, that the idea of Donovan doing anything remotely sexual had always repulsed her—hadn’t it? —but his tongue battled against hers, obliterating her thought. [...] Layla was lost.
For a moment.
Her thoughts were warring, scattered telling her how stupid she was being, reminding her that she had a backbone, that she hated, hated Donovan and no matter how incredible his mouth and hands felt, she could pull away from him. Any minute now.
*****
“Come here,” he said, wanting her, just then, but knowing that she needed a moment to calm, to have those worries so evident in the slow way she moved toward him, eased. He let her come to his side, right against his chest and for the first time, Donovan held her tight against him. “I’m not the kind of guy you need.” She sat up, looking at him. “I'm no Prince Charming. I’m not good for anyone and I doubt I ever will be.”
“So do you want this to end? You have doubts?”
He hated the idea of never touching her again. He hated that being without her touch, her taste, would bother him greatly, and if he were a better man, a stronger man, a decent man at all, he would tell her to go. Donovan knew that if he were the kind of man he once was, before betrayal and disappointment fractured whatever he thought he might want one day, then he’d thank Layla for her time and attention and tell her his doubts were too great, that their moment had passed.
But this Donovan was a selfish bastard on his best days. Still, he'd give her something, likely not what she deserved, but something he’d never given to any woman. Ever.
“If I said I didn’t care about you, that would be a lie. I do. Am I in love with you?” He waited, measuring her expression, relaxing when she didn’t look afraid. “No, sorry, I’m not. But I like the way we move together. I like that I can get lost in your body.” I like the way I can still smell your perfume on my pillow after you leave, he said to himself. “I like that you let me do things to your body that I’ve only ever dreamed about.” I like how free you are with me. How beautiful you look when you’re underneath me, falling to pieces. “I like that you don’t ask for anything but my body, for the way I make yours feel.” I love how you let me take you, let me love you like we won’t have another second of this in life.
About the author:
MB's INTERVIEW
Thank you, Mrs. Butler
1. Same series – different stories. How a series is created/ consolidated?
It story in a series should do two things: advance the overall series plot and focus on whatever character or set of circumstances are relevant in that individual book. I started the Serenity series with no intention of turning it into a series, but Autumn’s friends spoke to me and demanded to have their stories told as well. At the end of the day, I’m really just a slave to my characters.
2. What it is, in your opinion, the most important feature that a contemporary romance should have and why?
I don’t know about “most important” but a contemporary romance should have elements that draw the reader in. Depending on what type of contemporary romance it is, there should be a hero and heroine. There should be conflict that keeps them separated and there should be a happily ever after or at least something that promises at HEA. In between that should be lots and lots of smooching.
3. Book boyfriend is a well known “phenomenon”. How good or bad it is for the real life to read romance stories and to meet great characters? Why do we read romance?
We read romances because they are idealized imagings of a perfect, or at least exciting life. There is always a gorgeous, perfectly flawed hero that women want to tame and a heroine who is, sometimes even just somewhat, a representation of the women we either want to be or were at one time. It’s all fantasy and there is nothing at all wrong with fantasy. Do these impossible fictional men help our real life? Absolutely. They are inspiration, they are our muses and I’m willing to bet there are thousands of husbands and boyfriends out there thanking authors for the “inspiration” their women get once they put down a book.
4. I imagine that you, as a writer, have a lot of ideas. How do you choose how and when to use them?
The struggle is REAL. Ultimately it comes down to what books needs to be out according to my self-imposed deadlines. At the beginning of each year I sit down and figure out my publishing schedule. That generally helps me organize the ideas and decide which ones will come first. However, that doesn’t mean I won’t take time to jot down those ideas or even work on a page or two here and there that isn’t part of whatever I’m supposed to be writing. It’s difficult, but I know eventually, I’ll get to it. But, to be honest, sometimes the muse will not be ignored. As long as you focus and give that muse the hour she wants and then get back to the current project, you can generally stay on deadline.
5. New Adult genre has so many “definitions” and it is perceived so differently. What New Adult is in your opinion?
“New Adult” concerns stories about young adults coming out of their teens and discovering who they are. That could mean life on a college campus, on the road in a band, in the back of a restaurant or back packing through the mountains in Europe. The point, I think of NA stories is that they all center around the struggles and discoveries we endure on our paths to become rational adults. We all have our battle scars and for many of us those were earned in the war of new adulthood.
EXCERPT
“You’re disgusting,” she told him, but her voice carried no venom.
“And you’re a complete and utter bitch.”
She wanted to hit him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted Donovan to do something, anything but glare at her the way he was. And then, before she could think which she wanted more, Layla got her wish.
His mouth was controlling, consuming, teeth against her bottom lip, opening her up to the invasion of his tongue. It was warm, thick and she felt it all over her body, with every thrust of his mouth on hers, with how tight his fingers pulled and squeezed her ass. Donovan wasn’t gentle, wasn’t sweet. This wasn’t a kiss that was meant to be tender. This was a full bodied, take control kiss and Layla had no idea why she wasn’t resisting, why she liked it so much. But she didn’t resist, and she did like it, so much. Too damn much.
She moved her hand, curling her fingers into his t-shirt, let a low, soft moan work up her throat and she didn’t think about how much she hated him, how surely, kissing Donovan should repulse her, that the idea of Donovan doing anything remotely sexual had always repulsed her—hadn’t it? —but his tongue battled against hers, obliterating her thought. [...] Layla was lost.
For a moment.
Her thoughts were warring, scattered telling her how stupid she was being, reminding her that she had a backbone, that she hated, hated Donovan and no matter how incredible his mouth and hands felt, she could pull away from him. Any minute now.
“So do you want this to end? You have doubts?”
He hated the idea of never touching her again. He hated that being without her touch, her taste, would bother him greatly, and if he were a better man, a stronger man, a decent man at all, he would tell her to go. Donovan knew that if he were the kind of man he once was, before betrayal and disappointment fractured whatever he thought he might want one day, then he’d thank Layla for her time and attention and tell her his doubts were too great, that their moment had passed.
But this Donovan was a selfish bastard on his best days. Still, he'd give her something, likely not what she deserved, but something he’d never given to any woman. Ever.
“If I said I didn’t care about you, that would be a lie. I do. Am I in love with you?” He waited, measuring her expression, relaxing when she didn’t look afraid. “No, sorry, I’m not. But I like the way we move together. I like that I can get lost in your body.” I like the way I can still smell your perfume on my pillow after you leave, he said to himself. “I like that you let me do things to your body that I’ve only ever dreamed about.” I like how free you are with me. How beautiful you look when you’re underneath me, falling to pieces. “I like that you don’t ask for anything but my body, for the way I make yours feel.” I love how you let me take you, let me love you like we won’t have another second of this in life.
Eden Butler is an editor and writer of New Adult Romance and SciFi and Fantasy novels and the nine-times great-granddaughter of an honest-to-God English pirate. This could explain her affinity for rule breaking and rum. Her debut novel, a New Adult, Contemporary (no cliffie) Romance, “Chasing Serenity” launched in October 2013 and quickly became an Amazon bestseller.
When she’s not writing or wondering about her possibly Jack Sparrowesque ancestor, Eden edits, reads and spends way too much time watching rugby, Doctor Who and New Orleans Saints football.
She is currently imprisoned under teenage rule alongside her husband in southeast Louisiana.
Please send help.
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Author's Giveaway
10 comments:
I found the interview very interesting. How you choose which ideas to use when you have alot of them is interesting.
I have enjoyed learning about the book. Thanks for sharing it.
I found the interview quite informative. Thank you for sharing.
It looks like you put a lot of thought into this series.
Sounds very great,thanks for the chance!!
What a woonderful giveaway. Thank you and I think you are very witty. :)
"She is currently imprisoned under teenage rule alongside her husband in southeast Louisiana.
Please send help." I laughed out loud at this and so know how you feel
I look forward to reading your book. Thanks for the opportunity to do so.
sounds like a great read
Look great! Can't wait to read it*
thanks for the chance!
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