Today, I am hosting New York Times, USA Today, and international bestselling author Monica Murphy’s latest release The Reluctant Bride, a contemporary romance. Be sure to watch for my review coming your way on Friday, May 13th. And don’t forget to enter the Raflecopter giveaway.
Blurb: Everyone’s for sale, including me. One moment I’m the forgotten daughter of one of the most wealthy families in the country, and the next I’m the blushing bride in an arranged marriage. My fate is sealed in my wedded union with a complete stranger.
In public, Perry Constantine is the life of the party. Easygoing. Adored. In private, he’s brooding. Dark. Angry. But so am I. It’s a contest of wills to see who will break in the bedroom first, and while I try to remain strong, I find myself craving the very man I swore to hate.
She shrugs. And she still won’t look at me. “Would it be such a chore?”
It would be a big ass mess. I’ve changed my life enough to suit my mother’s wants and needs. Why should I let her pick out my future wife too? Of course I want her approval.
But I don’t want her organizing my entire damn life.
“This won’t work,” I say, not giving her anything to argue with. “You’ll need to figure out another option to get away from your father. That’s not on me.”
I feel like a dick the moment the words leave my mouth, and it’s my turn to not look her directly in the eyes. My gaze drops, lingering on her sexy ass legs.
Nope. They’re not enough to tempt me to marry her.
“Oh come on…” Her voice drifts and her mood shifts, just like that. “Hey. Eyes up here, asshole.”
My gaze snaps back to hers. She looks furious, those clear blue eyes of hers blazing at me as if I’m the most offensive man on this planet.
“Did you just call me an asshole?”
She lifts her chin, her lips formed in an almost delectable pout. “I did. You don’t need to gawk at me like some sort of pervert.”
“I’m the pervert who you want to be your husband,” I remind her, my voice going firm.
“I thought this wasn’t going to work,” she taunts.
I hate it when people throw my words back in my face.
“What’s your problem?” I slip my hands in to my pockets, preventing myself from grabbing for her again.
That I’m even tempted after she called me an asshole and a pervert is…Disconcerting.
A brittle laugh escapes her. “You are. You’re my problem.”
Great. Now she suddenly hates me. All because I stared at her sexy legs a second too long.
Deciding I’m not holding back, I give her a taste of her own medicine.
“And you’re a prude. Who cares if I was staring at your legs? At least I wasn’t looking at your tits,” I tell her.
“My tits?” Her brows shoot straight up and I tell myself to back down.
But damn, it was kind of hot, hearing that richly cultured voice of hers say the word tits.
“Yeah.” I edge closer, giving her no choice but to step back. She can’t go very far, considering the restaurant building is directly behind her. “Your tits. It’s perfectly appropriate for us to talk like this, considering we’re engaged. Though I do have a confession to make.”
“What is it?” she asks.
“I’m not a tit man.”
“You’re not?” Her voice is the barest whisper, and I get this sudden mental image of her lying in my bed naked, whispering to me.
Begging me to touch her.
New York Times, USA Today and international bestselling author. A believer in kissing. A believer of love.
I also write contemporary romance as USA Today bestselling author Karen Erickson.
Enter for a chance to win 2 x print copies of The Reluctant Bride.
a Rafflecopter giveaway