Thursday, July 21, 2016

Julia Kent ~ presents ~ Shopping for a CEO's Fiancée

Book Blurb:
We skipped right over the whole fiancée thing and went straight from girlfriend to wife.

At least, I think that’s what happened. I woke up after my brother’s Vegas wedding reception with my luscious girlfriend in bed with me. We’re both wearing wedding rings.

So is her coworker, Josh.

And our Vegas chauffeur, Geordi.

Who the hell am I married to?

Unraveling this mystery will be as difficult as figuring out why Amanda and I are having panic attacks over the thought of being husband and wife.

Or, whoever we’re actually married to.

Oh, ^%$#.

It’s true that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, with one exception:

If she’s my wife, we’ll make it work.

If she’s not?

I’ll make it happen.

Get the 9th book in Julia Kent's New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series as Andrew and Amanda sort out their wild Vegas night...and the rest of their lives.

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She is sitting on the edge of the tub, crying softly, fingers buried in her hair, the room completely overtaken by steam.


She sniffs but says nothing.

“It’s not that bad,” I say, bending in front of her.

“Are you insane? It’s not that bad? If this isn’t that bad, how the hell do you define bad?”

I let that sink in.

“Bad,” I finally reply, “is when your brother has to choose between you and your mother.”

She gasps.

“Bad is when your mother thinks the father of her child has killed her in a drunk-driving accident.”

She sobs.

“This? This is a situation, Amanda. This can be managed.”

“You have a very stark way of putting things in perspective.”

“That’s my job.”

“I might be married to one of three men! One of whom faints at the sight of vaginas!”

“I’d like to be very clear that I am not that man,” I say, clearing my throat.

“A fainting goat would have a better chance of remaining conscious than Josh looking at some pink.”

“Or orange.”

She gives me a weak smile. “Ha ha. We have no memory. How do we manage this?”

“One shower at a time.”

Unexpectedly, she reaches down to her left forearm with her right hand and riiiiiiip!

“What are you doing?”

In one smooth move, she grimaces and tears the worn bandage off her left forearm, revealing a network of animal claw scratches. Amanda does the same with her right forearm, leaving me stunned.

“I’m ripping off the Band-aid,” she says, her voice filled with pain.

“You still need to see a doctor.”

“No. I need a shower, a gallon of ibuprofen, more coffee, and you.”



We stand and I pull her into my arms, her naked body soft and sticky against my skin and open robe.

“If I have to be married to anyone, I hope it’s you,” I whisper, before kissing her softly. My blood pounds against my skin, my breathing slow, as the scent of her fills me. Her shoulder is so soft against my chin. She relaxes against me, so delicate, yet strong. Less than a week ago, I watched her nearly drown, a part of me dying as seconds ticked by underwater and I couldn’t free her fast enough. Sheer determination got her to the surface in time.

Overriding instinct takes a terrible toll on the body.

And it’s even worse on the heart.

“Considering the options, I’m not sure whether to be flattered or to hit you.”

“Trust me. It’s a compliment. Besides, I’m not sure I can handle any more pain right now.”

Steam surrounds us, making my lungs fill slowly. The warmth helps, but being alone, upright, with her in my arms is the best medicine right now. So much remains unspoken between us. The vocabulary just isn’t there. I wonder if that’s the whole point of committing to one person: you have the rest of your lives to figure out how to say what you feel. You build a language for two. Fluency isn’t optional.

While the rest of the world ticks on, and my workload piles up, I can ignore my mistakes and the puzzling circumstances of our possible marriage if I just kiss her again.

So I do.

And in that kiss, the first dangerous thought of the day slams through me.

Would it be so bad if I am her husband after all?

About the Author:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken. She loves to hear from her readers by email at

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