Tired of the shade? Want some fun with your heat? From the dorky, dirty mind of Amelia James, author of Tell Me You Want Me and Home Is Where the Heat Is…
Destined for Genius – a trashy romantic comedy coming July 27, 2015!
Kurt Langston spent one night of hot, decadent sex with the love of his life. But she chose someone else. He's sworn off relationships for good, preferring the company of online friends he's never met, his only connections made through the internet. So when Destiny falls into his arms—literally—he lets her go. Love has no place in his life plan.
Destiny D'argo has no plans. No goal, no future aspirations. Just wing it. Her graphic design business pays the bills—barely—and her part-time waitress job fulfills her minimal need for personal interaction. She has no use for schedules or commitments, especially to a guy who happened to make a lucky catch. So why can't she stop thinking about Kurt?
Their paths intersect again and again, and they can't keep their hands off each other. Neither one of them wants this, but fate doesn't seem to care. Can a free-spirited artist make a real connection with a structured computer genius? Or are they doomed from the start?
Coming July 27, 2015!
About the Author:
I got hooked on trashy romance novels in junior high, but my mom took them away from me. But she couldn’t stop me from daydreaming. After I got married, I wrote some of my naughtier daydreams down and sent them to Playgirl magazine. Two of them got published. I kept daydreaming and writing stories until my dirty stories turned into trashy books.
I live in Colorado, but I’ll always be a loyal Wisconsin Cheesehead. When I’m not lusting after my next bad boy hero, I’m looking for inspiration in sci-fi and action movies, football players, morally ambiguous lawyers, muscle cars, and kick-butt chicks.
Google +: https://plus.google.com/u/0/106317629275663311597/posts
Good Reads: http://www.goodreads.com/trashywriter
Giveaway: this is the Rafflecopter code. The giveaway begins on 7/13 and ends on 7/28. The prize package is: a $25 Amazon gift card, a Trashy keychain, and two Amelia James chocolate bars.
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“You’ve never fucked a stranger just for fun?”
“Fucking is always fun.” The small smile blossomed under his declaration, so he pulled her arms free and draped them around his waist. “There was this one girl in college, at a frat party—”
“They have fraternities for geeks?” She clamped her mouth shut as soon as the words spilled out.
He dragged the pad of his thumb over her lips, and they immediately softened. Kurt made a note to thank JT for teaching him that trick. “I had to maintain a three point seven five GPA to be a member.”
She slid her hands into his back pockets again. “And you had...?”
Access granted. “Three point nine seven.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and slipped his fingers under her short sleeves, caressing her warm skin.
“Ooo... Genius.” She squeezed his butt.
Kurt winced. “Don’t call me that.” Hearing her say the nickname his friend had given him conjured images he’d rather not face at the moment.
She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. “Okay. What about the girl?”
“Huh?” The only girl he wanted was currently tugging his zipper and creating havoc with his memory. “Oh her.” The previous data came back to him. “We got a little drunk and had sex in the hot tub, right in the middle of the party. No one knew.”
“I’m sure everyone knew.” She finally managed to slide his zipper down, dragging her fingers along his erection as she did it.
Fireworks exploded in his pants, but Kurt couldn’t let her do all the touching. He dragged his hand down her back and snuck it under her shirt. She’d put it on without caging those cute bare tits in a bra. Maybe he could steal another squeeze. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I never got her name. Never saw her again.”
“Why can’t I be like her?” She rested her butt against the wall, effectively pulling away from him.
His hand froze, but when she arched her back, he realized she was giving him more room to move, not trying to stop him. “Well, for one thing, you’re much prettier.” He reached up and cupped her bare breast.
She pressed into his palm. “Really?”
“Oh yeah, all these wild curls,” he slid his other hand into her hair, “so soft. Your deep brown eyes, soft brown skin. Wow, you’re cozier than my favorite pillow.”
She looked at him like he’d said Han Solo shot Greedo in self-defense, but then the skepticism faded and she smiled.
“And your smile could power the Death Star’s shield generator.” Rein it in, dork. He dragged his thumb over her nipple.
“That’s a compliment, right?”
She reached down between his legs. “So is this.”