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My Best Friend’s Ex By Meghan Quinn ~ Release Blitz

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My Best Friend’s Ex, an all new sexy, laugh out loud romantic comedy from Meghan Quinn is now LIVE!

MyBestFriendsEx

My Best Friend’s Ex by Meghan Quinn
Publication Date: June 1st, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

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.

MBFE-AN

 

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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!

MeghanQuinn.jpg

 

Connect with Meghan:

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Instagram: authormeghanquinn
Website

Sign Up for Meghan’s Newsletter

My Best Friend’s Ex by Meghan Quinn ~ Pre-Order Blast & Excerpt Reveal

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My Best Friend’s Ex, an all new sexy, laugh out loud romantic comedy is coming June 1st. Preorder today!

MyBestFriendsEx

My Best Friend’s Ex by Meghan Quinn
Publication Date: June 1st, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

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.

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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!

MeghanQuinn

Connect with Meghan:

Facebook
Instagram: authormeghanquinn
Website
Sign Up for Meghan’s Newsletter

Co-Wrecker by Meghan Quinn ~ Blog Tour

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Co-Wrecker, an all new sexy, laugh out loud romantic comedy is available now!

coWRECKER

Co-Wrecker by Meghan Quinn
Publication Date: March 23, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Photographer: Lauren Watson Perry

Synopsis:

What do ice cream and Sadie Montgomery have in common? They’re both ice cold, but one taste is never enough.

I wanted to be friends — I would have even settled for her seeing me as anything but a nerd — but there was no getting through. So just like any hard-headed, red-blooded man out there, I made up my mind.

I’d make my coworker fall for me.

I’d like to say it was simple, but like every other epic love story, all it took was one drunken night and a lot of naked courage to get the girl. For a moment, at least.

Love with a coworker is never simple, especially since Sadie’s trying to keep us on the low. Not to mention her persistent ex-boyfriend who won’t leave her alone. But I’ve never been good at giving up, and I don’t plan to start now.

The whole thing is a recipe for a rocky road, but I plan to eat the whole gallon, no matter how bad the brain freeze.

Excerpt:

Knowing I will probably regret this, I lift from the freezer, ice cream scraper in hand, and jerk toward Sadie just in time to slip on some melted ice on the floor shooting me across the fountain and straight into Sadie.

But not just Sadie; straight into her chest—her billowing, womanly chest. It’s a satisfyingly soft cushion for my head but from her instant outrage, I’m going to guess she’s not keen on me using her breasts as a pillow.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks, trying to back away, difficult when I’ve got her pinned against the counter.

Fumbling to get some kind of grasp on my falling body, scraper still in hand, I give her a bit of motor boat—not on purpose—and muffle in her breasts, “I’m sowwy.”

“Get off me.”

“I’m twying,” I say, finally getting a grip on the counter behind her and standing tall. Glasses askew, hat on the floor, and a smothered feeling on my face, I straighten my apron and clear my throat. “My apologies.” Her friend is laughing, hand on her stomach, as I push my glasses back on my nose. “Although, I’m grateful for your sturdy bosom for catching my fall. It might have been a twisty straw to the eye, and I’m not sure my glasses would have held up on such an impact.”

Sturdy bosom? Shit, Andrew, don’t fucking say words like bosom. And for the love of God, don’t say a woman has a STURDY bosom. Say words like tits. Tits are more manly.

“Tits,” I mutter.

“Excuse me?” Sadie has the look of horror on her face.

Fuck, did I say that out loud?

“I think he said tits, Sadie,” her friend cuts in, thumbing through the straw holder. Yup, I said tits out loud.

“I heard him, Smills,” Sadie mutters under her breath.

Glaring at me, looking for an answer, I shrug my shoulders, because I have nothing. No way of digging myself out of this one. Funny how your brain can literally stop working the minute you need it the most. Come on, old fella, kick it into high gear. Come up with something witty, something snarky, something that will put a Band-Aid over this rather raw and embarrassing incident.

But, good fuck. I just had my face in her chest. What man could come back quickly from that?

“Well . . .” Sadie has her arms crossed over her bosom, waiting for an answer. No. Her arms are crossed over her breasts. Shit. Shit.

Nerves crawl up the back of my neck, igniting my ears into lava levels of heat. Crap. Just say anything.

Clearing my throat, I pat her shoulder and say, “Sturdy tits.”

And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse, at least my hand didn’t pat down her breast to see if her nipples were made of steel, or to see if her areolas consist of chain-link mesh. You have to look at the positive.

CoWreckerAN

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(Free in Kindle Unlimited)

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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!

MeghanQuinnAuthorPic

 

Connect with Meghan:

Facebook
Instagram: authormeghanquinn
Website

Sign Up for Meghan’s Newsletter

Stroked Hard by Meghan Quinn ~ Promo



We’re celebrating the release of STROKED HARD! Check out the excerpt and teasers below!

 

STROKED HARD
Scheduled to release: November 1, 2016

Sports Romance
Cover Designed by: Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae

Amazon
iBooks
Kobo
Nook

He’s hot. Like, stop breathing kind of hot with his killer body, vivid blue eyes, and constant five o’clock shadow.
Did I mention his body?
Watching Hollis Knightly, Olympic diving gold medalist, man-pony specialist—and cocky bastard—stand up on the diving platform in nothing but a small piece of Spandex? Yeah, I’m beguiled.
And easily seduced.
I want to keep things light but he won’t leave me alone. And hell, if he’s not wearing me thin.
What is supposed to be a simple summer fling with a very hot man, has now morphed into a f*cked-up mess of feelings, attachment, and dare I say it…love. But I don’t do relationships. And Hollis Knightly does.

EXCERPT

“Do you remember what I told you the other night?” he asks, leaning forward, his body heat turning the temperature up between us.

I take a second to swallow before nodding. “Yeah.”

“And what was it that I said?”

Of course he’s going to make me say it.

Shyly, looking up from under my lashes, I say, “Something about no more good-night hugs.”

“Correct.” He leans forward even more, his body now flush against mine. “What else did I mention?”

Nervously, I answer, “Something about lips touching.”

He chuckles and that sound nearly destroys me. I’m nervous, I’m seriously nervous and I never get nervous. Where’s my backbone? Where’s my moral ground? Where the hell is my sassy voice that would normally be turning down this man who has made it known he wants me?

She’s long gone. Bare chested, ungodly sexy smelling Hollis chased her away.

That and my vagina has taken over all decisions regarding the man standing in front of me.

His hand runs up my side and cups my cheek, followed by the gentle pull of his thumb on my bottom lip, his face inching even closer.

God, he’s going to kiss me. And I’m going to let him.

“These lips right here.” He sighs . . . freaking sighs. “These lips were one of the first things I noticed about you. How they shined, begging for me to come brand them with my own. I’ve dreamt of these lips and I’m finally going to take what I want from them.”

My heart is pounding rapidly in my chest, my breath has escaped me, and he leans forward, closing the gap between us, I can’t help but internally beg him to keep moving forward.

Please don’t let this be a joke. Just one taste. Just one night. That’s all I want. One night with Hollis to get him out of my system so I can move on. So he’ll move on.

With one last press of my hips against my front door, Hollis traps me in his grip and guides his lips down on mine.

Soft.

Gentle.

Intoxicating.

It’s the only way I know how to describe what he’s doing. His mouth is closed, there is no tongue, there is no urgency; it’s cautious but antsy at the same time.

Every bit of my body is tingling with excitement from the way he feels against my body, from the way his hands grip me just right, and from the way his lips roam about mine, never furthering the kiss into anything other than a light press of my mouth against his.

He makes me want to beg for more. Soft little movements send my body into a vortex of heat, sweeping me up into an eternal state of arousal. Just from a kiss.

A simple kiss is throwing my world for a loop. Everything I’ve ever known is changing from this small and innocent kiss. I’ve never been kissed like this

A sexy, clit-clenching moan flows from the depths of his throat out of his mouth as he pulls away. Seductively, while staring me directly in the eyes, he licks his lips, savoring the flavor on them.

Crap, that’s so freaking hot.

“Just what I thought. You taste like fucking heaven, baby.”

If I taste like heaven then why did he stop? Shouldn’t he want to keep going?

So I want him to keep going? That’s the real question I should be asking here. Get it together, Mel. You’re not supposed to be giving in.

But . . .

It’s Hollis Knightly. Hollis FREAKING Knightly. There is only so much I can do when it comes to turning him down.

 

 

NOW AVAILABLE!

 

STROKED by Meghan Quinn
Released: July 19, 2016
Cover Designer: Murphy Rae

BLURB:
Reese King: Olympic medalist, underwear model, Greek god.

His body is chiseled from rock, sculpted by the weight room, and refined by water.

On a daily basis his skin is completely bare for everyone to see, tan and defined, only covered up by a minuscule piece of spandex. There is no denying his sex appeal.

I hate to admit it, but I’m head over heels infatuated with him.

There is one HUGE problem though. His achingly gorgeous abs, inked up arm, and cocky swagger belong to my boss, the high-profile, reality star bitch from hell and certified heinous human being, Bellini Chambers.

What I think is going to be an easy job assisting a glorified wench turns into a cluster f*ck of epic proportions.

STROKED LONG by Meghan Quinn
Scheduled to release: September 20, 2016

Sports Romance

Cover Designed by: Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae

 

BLURB:
From his dirty-blond hair and breathtaking smile, to the abs from heaven and the irresistible V in his waistline, everything about Bodi Olympic-gold-medalist Banks screams hot piece of @$$.
Yet there’s more.
Dark shadows lurk behind his soulful, serious eyes.
I’m enamored. He’s captured me.
How can running an art foundation with Bodi Banks turns into a slow-burning, epic romance, even though he tries to push me away at every chance? How can I stay away from a broken, routine-driven man whose soul cries to be forgiven for a crime only he believes he committed? Or is that a lie?

**STROKED LONG can be read as a stand alone.

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!
Like me on Facebook
Find me on Goodreads
Visit my website

Stroked Hard by Meghan Quinn ~ Release Blitz



We’re celebrating the release of STROKED HARD! Check out the excerpt and teasers below!

 

STROKED HARD
Scheduled to release: November 1, 2016

Sports Romance
Cover Designed by: Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae

Amazon
iBooks
Kobo
Nook: to come!

He’s hot. Like, stop breathing kind of hot with his killer body, vivid blue eyes, and constant five o’clock shadow.
Did I mention his body?
Watching Hollis Knightly, Olympic diving gold medalist, man-pony specialist—and cocky bastard—stand up on the diving platform in nothing but a small piece of Spandex? Yeah, I’m beguiled.
And easily seduced.
I want to keep things light but he won’t leave me alone. And hell, if he’s not wearing me thin.
What is supposed to be a simple summer fling with a very hot man, has now morphed into a f*cked-up mess of feelings, attachment, and dare I say it…love. But I don’t do relationships. And Hollis Knightly does.
Excerpt:
A joke about Reese getting his makeup done is on the tip of my tongue when I turn to see a little brunette with sun-kissed hair, beautifully bronzed skin, and the biggest fucking green eyes I’ve ever seen standing behind Reese.
Holy shit.
The hottest fucking woman I’ve ever seen is standing behind him wearing ripped jean shorts, a tight-as-hell white tank top, and teal Converse. Her hair is shoulder length, wavy, and looks so fucking soft that all I want to do is bury my head in it. But what’s really causing my pants to grow tighter by the minute are her pink-glossed plump lips. I’m mesmerized by the way the lights bounce off them and I can’t fucking help the way my mind wanders, wondering all the ways I can have fun with those lips.
“Are you coming, man?” Reese asks as he walks away.
What? Oh shit.
“Sure. You need me to hold your hand like last time?” I ask, chasing after them. “I don’t mind, but when the scary blow dryer comes at you again, I won’t be cleaning your inner thighs again from pee dribble. I did it once and it was fucking creepy. Never again.”
I don’t get a response besides the middle finger directed at me from behind his back.
Reese sits in a black chair, his large body making the poor seat look like a toothpick. He exhales and slouches as Miss Pouty Lips starts to play around with his hair.
Jealousy instantly consumes me. I want to blast my best friend from his seat and take his place just to experience the feel of her pink painted nails running through my hair.
Are her toes painted pink as well? Or does she have them painted a different shade? Fuck, I don’t care, either way I’m hell-bent on figuring it out.
“Do you have dryland later today or do you want to grab dinner?” Reese asks, pulling my eyes off her fingers for a second.
“Are you paying?”
“Cheap fuck.”
I shrug. “I save my money for more important things, like dates.” The girl looks up at me and gives me a courtesy smile. Eh, I’ll take it. “Dude, you’re so fucking rude.”
“What did I do?” Reese asks.
“Uh, you didn’t introduce me to your friend.” I nod at the girl.
“Because I don’t even know her name.” Reese looks a little ashamed as he admits his fault.
I come closer and say, “Then you are fucking rude.” I hold my hand out. “Hi, I’m Hollis and this is my rude as fuck friend, Reese.”
The girl shakes my hand quickly, giving me a brief taste of how her palm would match up with mine. “Melony. Nice to meet you.”
“Melony, what a beautiful name.”
Reese snorts, right between us. Not in an awkward kind of a way, more in a dude’s blowing up my game kind of way.
He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh shit, this is going to be good.”
Ignoring him, I keep my attention focused on Melony. “Do you frequent these shoots often?”
Another snort. “That’s the best you got?” Reese asks. “Come on, man. You’re better than the old ‘you come around here often’ pick-up line.”
He’s right, but fuck, I’m kind of thrown off my game a little. It’s the glossiness of her lips; they’re distracting me. Would that gloss help her slide right along my dick?
Melony ignores Reese’s barb and says, “I do all hair and makeup for the show, mostly for Bellini.”
Conversation door open.
“Oh shit, and you haven’t been burnt by dragon lady’s spitting fire yet?”
She flips her hair to the side and grins at me. “Why do you think my hair is short?”
Fuck. I like her. Just like that. The sexy grin, the flip of her soft hair, the mischief in her eyes. Yup, I’m a fucking goner.
But just as soon as the words slip from her mouth, she straightens up and looks at Reese. “Oh crap. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, Mr. King. Bellini is . . .” she swallows hard and continues, “a nice lady.”
Reese waves it off. “She can be a bitch.”
It’s all he says but I know what he really means. Bellini is the epitome of the devil reincarnated. Unfortunately, given his situation, he has to be politically correct. Frankly I don’t know why he’s putting himself through this kind of torture. Trials aren’t for six months; you would think his publicist could come up with something else for him to do after his last stint at the Olympics. If I were him, I would fire my publicist’s ass.
“Reese, can you spare a moment over here for a second?” a squirrely man I know by the name of Jasper asks. Reese excuses himself giving me the perfect opportunity to talk with Melony.
She’s washing some makeup brushes, busying herself and staying as far away from me as possible. Too bad for her, I have other plans.
“Where are you from, Melony?” She glances in my direction but turns back to her brushes.
“Here,” she says curtly.
“Born and raised a Cali girl, huh? That’s—”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” She holds her hand up. “I see where this is going.”
“And where is this going?” I ask, stepping closer to her.
She gives me the once-over and puts her hand on her hip. “You say some cheesy stuff trying to get to know me. To be polite, I’ll entertain you and then you’ll ask me out. I’ll say no and then you’ll take that as a challenge.”
I scrunch my nose. “You would say no?” That’s kind of a first for me, so I’m interested to hear her answer.
“Not used to the word? Does the Olympic diver always get what he wants?”
“Ah, so you know who I am.” I knowingly point at her. “I knew you did from the way you tried to see through my shirt. Don’t worry, sweetheart, the abs everyone talks about are real.”
She scoffs. “You’re pathetic.”
Well, that’s a first as well.
“Are you trying to make me cry?” I tease.
Rolling her eyes, she steps away, putting unwanted distance between us. “Seriously, not going to happen, Hollis, so pack up your pick-up lines and take them somewhere else.”
“Wow.” I rest my hip against one of the tables full of beauty shit and cross my arms over my chest. “Flatter yourself much? Who says I was even trying to pick you up? What if I was just trying to be nice? That’s kind of embarrassing for you, assuming such a thing.”
“Please, Hollis. Nice try. It’s not going to happen.”
Growing irritated, I ask, “And why not?”
“Because.” She points a makeup brush at me. “You’re not my type and I have zero interest in pursuing a relationship with you.” With that, she fucking wags her pert little ass away from me.
Well, fuck me. That didn’t go as planned.

 

 

NOW AVAILABLE!

 

STROKED by Meghan Quinn
Released: July 19, 2016
Cover Designer: Murphy Rae

BLURB:
Reese King: Olympic medalist, underwear model, Greek god.

His body is chiseled from rock, sculpted by the weight room, and refined by water.

On a daily basis his skin is completely bare for everyone to see, tan and defined, only covered up by a minuscule piece of spandex. There is no denying his sex appeal.

I hate to admit it, but I’m head over heels infatuated with him.

There is one HUGE problem though. His achingly gorgeous abs, inked up arm, and cocky swagger belong to my boss, the high-profile, reality star bitch from hell and certified heinous human being, Bellini Chambers.

What I think is going to be an easy job assisting a glorified wench turns into a cluster f*ck of epic proportions.

STROKED LONG by Meghan Quinn
Scheduled to release: September 20, 2016

Sports Romance
Cover Designed by: Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae

BLURB:
From his dirty-blond hair and breathtaking smile, to the abs from heaven and the irresistible V in his waistline, everything about Bodi Olympic-gold-medalist Banks screams hot piece of @$$.
Yet there’s more.
Dark shadows lurk behind his soulful, serious eyes.
I’m enamored. He’s captured me.
How can running an art foundation with Bodi Banks turns into a slow-burning, epic romance, even though he tries to push me away at every chance? How can I stay away from a broken, routine-driven man whose soul cries to be forgiven for a crime only he believes he committed? Or is that a lie?

**STROKED LONG can be read as a stand alone.

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!
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