Book Tours · Excerpt · Romance · Second Chance Romance

Hot Shot by Robin Bielman Blog Tour with Excerpt

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He believes in fate…

Hotshot, an all-new slow-burn second-chance romance from USA Today bestselling author Robin Bielman, is available now!

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Here’s my plan: Crash through the ceiling of my family’s business to become the best hotelier on the West Coast. Nothing rattles me when it comes to a challenge and hard work, but when I spot my almost one-night-stand in my lobby, I’m thrown totally off my game. Alejandra is my dream girl. The one I can’t forget who got away—literally. Which might explain why I blurt out to my meddlesome, matchmaking grandmother that Alejandra is my date for her fast approaching and highly choreographed eightieth birthday party.

She’s been on pause…

Some decisions are harder than others, but agreeing to a date with Drew isn’t one of them. He’s a charming and gorgeous curveball I didn’t see coming, but the more time we spend together, the harder it is to remember to play it safe. I’ve made a promise, and even though I’m now torn, I have to honor it in order to move on from the past.

Drew feels like my future, but I’m about to put everything I want in jeopardy.

Hot Shot - AN

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Excerpt

“Is it okay if I take this seat?” a man asks. The masculine voice is deep, seductive. Friendly.

That’s what resonates deep inside me, and I don’t have to think twice about my answer. I also don’t have to turn my head to know who’s asking. “Sure.”

“I’m Drew,” he says as he gets comfortable beside me.

I take a moment to breathe in his clean, spicy scent before I look at him. “Alejandra.” “It’s nice to meet you, Alejandra.”

“You, too.” Up close, he’s even better-looking. Eyes a shade of blue-green I’ve never

seen before, neat hair longer on top than the sides, broad shoulders that fill out his tailored suit coat. I’d venture his outfit cost more than my monthly mortgage.

He notices my glass of water and waves a hand at the bartender. A thick black watch peeks out from his sleeve. His hand is big, capable-looking. “Can I buy you a drink?”

With the way my pulse is racing, he absolutely can. I may need several to calm my nerves. “I think I saw a blood orange margarita on the menu.”

“Good choice.”

“Hey, Drew,” the bartender says. “What can I get you?”

“Two blood orange margaritas, please. On the rocks.”

“You got it.” He drops a cocktail napkin in front of Drew and one in front of me. “You seem to know a lot of people,” I say.

“A few. What about you?”

“I’m here with my sister and two friends. They’re on the dance floor.”

“It’s lucky I got to you before someone else, then.”

I can’t get my head down. It’s a good thing my light brown skin doesn’t give away my blush easily. Are there other people here? All of a sudden it doesn’t feel like it.

“Looks like you took one for the team,” he says next.

“What?” His knee taps mine as he swivels and nods to my boot.

Oh, that. I grin. What a nice way to put it. Not only is Drew the hottest-looking man in this bar, but he’s decided I’m caring rather than klutzy, something no stranger has done in the five weeks I’ve been injured. “Team captain right here,” I say.

“Your T-shirts have a ‘W’ on them, don’t they?”

It takes me a second to follow his train of thought. Wonder Woman. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” I tease.

He smiles and I’m hit not only with flirty intensity, but sincerity, too. He might be coming on strong, but his compliment is genuine. “Is it working?”

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RobinBielmanAbout Robin

Robin Bielman is the USA Today bestselling author of over fifteen novels. When not attached to her laptop, she loves to read, go to the beach, frequent coffee shops (and by frequent she means daily but she’s trying to break the habit), and spend time with her high school sweetheart husband and two sons.

Her fondness for swoon-worthy heroes who flirt and stumble upon the girl they can’t live without jumpstarts most of her story ideas. She writes with a steady stream of caffeine nearby (see above) and the best dog on the planet, Harry, by her side. She also dreams of traveling to faraway places and loves to connect with readers. Keep in touch on social! Xoxo

Connect with Robin

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Website: https://robinbielman.com

 

Book Tours · Excerpt · Kindle Unlimited · Romance · Romantic Comedy

Weekend Wife by Erin McCarthy Blog Tour with Excerpt

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“The perfect, irresistible romantic comedy!”

—Erin Nicholas, New York Times bestselling author

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Weekend Wife, an all-new sassy and quirky stand-alone rom com from New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy, is available now!

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Billionaire businessman in need of a fake fiancée…

It should be the easiest job ever for an out-of-work actress, right?

All I have to do is pose as Grant Caldwell (the Third)’s fiancé for a fancy-pants weekend in the Hamptons. Easy. Wear designer clothing and sip champagne? Don’t mind if I do. Flirting with Grant? It’s so delicious I should be paying him.

Nothing can go wrong as long as I can just keep my hands off of him.

But that’s the hard part. And I do mean hard.

Because Grant is sexy.

And bossy.

And surprisingly sweet, a real rarity in his pretentious family.

Oops. I’m not as good at faking it as I thought. Or maybe they call this method acting. Because it’s getting harder to figure out where my character ends and I begin…

It just might be the role of a lifetime.

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Excerpt

I looked at Leah. “Sorry about that. I am not filthy rich.” I actually was, but I felt compelled to be modest. “I’m just rich.”

“Oh, yeah? Well… I think everyone’s definition of filthy is different.”

And just like that, Leah took an awkward moment and made it flirtatious. Her voice was low, breathy.

Green light. That’s what that was. And I was hitting the gas and plowing into the intersection.

I eyed her. “What do you know about filthy?”

I had leaned closer to her, turned slightly, my thigh brushing against the fabric of her skirt. Her lips were a ripe raspberry color and she had a divot in the base of her chin that made me want to kiss it. Her chest rose and fell beneath her tight sweater with a quick rhythm, like she was turned on. Intrigued. Contemplating her move. She opened her mouth, gaze sweeping over my lips, and for a second I thought she was going to move close enough that I could kiss her.

Instead, she held my gaze, all seduction and skill, while her hand shot out and tucked the cash into the breast pocket of my suit. She grinned and turned back to the front, smug.

Damn.

“Nice acting skills,” I told her dryly. Leah, starring in the role of femme fatale, and I’d fallen for it.

“Thanks. I’m working on eye contact.”

I was working on blue balls.

She was cute and clever. Fuck.

I knew a couple of women who wanted exactly what I did—no-strings-attached sex. No one got offended if months went by without contact and it was just as likely they would text me as I would text them. I didn’t get… ensnared. Leah could ensnare me. It might be time to send out a sexual SOS. I needed zero contact with Leah after today. She wasn’t good for my concentration. But I did admire both her boldness and her talent.

“That was savage,” I told her. “I love it.”

“I need a distraction from the fact that my ankle seems to have a heartbeat and half the ice has melted so now my sock is damp.”

Right. Her busted ankle. That was the relevant issue at hand, not my dick.

“You really should elevate your ankle. Turn a little.”

Surprisingly, she obeyed me. I dug my way through all that fabric and hauled her calf and ankle up onto my lap. I also tucked the hundred bucks back into her skirt pocket. She didn’t seem to notice and just cleared her throat.

Leah bit her bottom lip. “This is weird,” she said. “I don’t think you want my damp sock on your pants.”

There were so many things I wanted to say. All of them inappropriate as fuck.

What I settled for was, “Don’t assume what I want.”

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Erin McCarthy

About Erin

USA Today and New York Times bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written over seventy-five novels and novellas in the romance and mystery genres. Erin has a special weakness for high-heeled boots, martinis, and Frank Sinatra. She lives with her renovation-addicted husband (he built her a bar, so it’s all good!) and their blended family of kids and rescue dogs.

Connect with Erin

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