From #1 NYT Bestselling author Lauren Blakely, comes a hot new standalone second chance romance…
THE HOT ONE!
Want a slow burn, sexy-as-sin second chance romance filled with wit, humor and so much heart? Dive in, and get ready to swoon and fan yourself from the heat!
A sexy, feel-good romance that makes you feel good all over, THE HOT ONE is a hot, second chance standalone romance and the story of confident, charming and cocky attorney Tyler Nichols who is determined to win back his college sweetheart when he runs into her in NYC eight years later. He’ll do anything to win her heart… including stripping naked for her at her office. Can she move on from the hurt and give love a brand new chance? Find out in this sexy, fun, and sizzling romance full of heart, charm and heat! Told in dual POV, THE HOT ONE is being called over-the-top hot and utterly addictive. Grab your copy of THE HOT ONE and get ready to laugh, swoon, and fan yourself from the heat!
“The Hot One is love, laugh-out-loud humor, and lust all wrapped up in the perfect package…PURE PLEASURE!!!” ~ Bookalicious Babes Blog
“Lauren Blakely is the QUEEN of sweet, fun, and steamy reads… Her books are utterly addictive.” ~ Angie’s Dreamy Reads
A sexy new standalone romance from #1 New York Times Bestselling Author Lauren Blakely…
Ever notice that sometimes a guy will do something really stupid, like let the love of his life slip through his fingers?
Yeah. I'm that guy. But the instant I run into her again I’ve got one goal and one goal only—a second chance. The plan? Go big or go home.
Fine, at first glance, stripping naked at my ex-girlfriend's place of work might not seem like the brightest way to win her heart again. But trust me on this count—she always liked me best without any clothes on. And sometimes you've got to play to your strengths when you're fighting an uphill battle. As a lawyer, I know how to fight, and I'm prepared to fight hard for her. Because sometimes you need a second chance at first love.
He's the one who got away . . .
The nerve of Tyler Nichols to reappear like that at my job, showing off his rock-hard body that drove me wild far too many nights. That man with his knowing grin and mischievous eyes is nothing but a cocky jerk to saunter back into my life. Except, what if he's not . . .? I've tried like hell to forget him, but maybe I'm cursed to remember the guy I fell madly in love with eight years ago. Lord knows I’m not over him, so what's the harm in giving him a week to prove he's changed in the ways that matter?
After all, how do you resist the hot one . . .?
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Excerpt:
She
turns her head.
And
waves.
And
smiles.
That
smile makes me feel like I can do this. Like I can win her heart
again. Mine pounds faster as I near her, and it’s not just because
I happen to think she’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen,
but because of who she is.
I
arrive at her side, and she straightens. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
There’s
that awkwardness again, and I want no part of it today. Like the
bungee jumper I am, I lean in and dust a quick kiss on her lips. At
first, she freezes. That won’t fucking do at all. My tongue darts
out, flicking her top lip. A soft breath escapes her, and she gives
in. Her sweet lips linger on mine, sending a charge down my spine. My
brain leapfrogs ahead, and I picture scooping her up in my arms,
carrying her to a quiet little patch of trees, and kissing her till
she begs me to take her home.
I
want that badly—I want her to beg for it because she’s at her
happiest when she’s overcome—but I suspect it’s too soon for
her.
Not
to mention, screwing in Central Park usually results in a public
citation. Public fornicators are never as clandestine as they think
they are.
I
nibble lightly on her bottom lip for a few seconds, drawing out a
throaty murmur from her. Then I somehow find the will to separate.
She
blinks. Several times. She sways the slightest bit, like her feet
barely touch the ground. Good. I want her to be affected.
She
furrows her brow. “I’m sorry, but do we kiss now when we see each
other in the park?”
“Evidently
we do.”
“Weird.
Because I didn’t get that memo.”
I
rock on my heels. “Want me to take it back?”
“The
kiss or the memo?”
“The
memo,” I say matter-of-factly, like this is all so obvious. “You
can’t take a kiss back.”
“You
sure on that, Nichols?”
“I
can try to
take back the kiss. Want me to, sweet girl?” I use the term of
endearment I once called her. She doesn’t blanch, and that’s a
damn good sign.
She
smirks. “Be my guest.”
I
kiss her once more, like I’m reversing the lip lock, doing it all
in rewind, pulling away ever so slowly, ever so softly, leaving her
dazed once more.
Perfect.
If
she can drive me this crazy, make me this hard, send the temperature
in my blood to beyond incendiary, the least I can do is return the
favor.
Judging
from her reaction, I’m doing it right.
I
gesture from her to me. “Like that. I think that’s how you take
back a kiss.”
Chuckling,
she nods to the running path. “Ready for me to kick your ass?”
Every
competitive bone in my body snaps to attention. “We’ll see about
that,” I say, then I smack her pink nylon covered behind.
Her
eyes widen, saying oh-no-you-didn’t.
But
there’s a twinkle in those baby browns that says the lady might
like spanking.
That’s
new, and it’s most interesting.
I
pencil in a new item on my mental to-do list. Find out how much she
likes spanking. I never spanked her in college—just wasn’t part
of the repertoire. But judging from her response now, I’m more
determined than ever to find out everything she likes in and out of
bed.
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