RELEASE DAY BLITZ & BLOG TOUR
Title: HARD
Author: Cheryl McIntyre
Release Date: March 20, 2015
HARD Synopsis:
I have been staring at her for three months. Watching her. Memorizing her.
For ninety-two days, I’ve looked into those lifeless green eyes.
And for ninety-two days she has inspired me in ways I never knew possible. A muse, unbeknownst to her. Motivating me. Encouraging my darkest desires.
I’m a man who knows what he wants. And what I want is the beautiful and broken Holland Howard.
My name is Jensen Payne—photographer, autocrat, lecher, Scopophiliac. I am who I am and I will not—cannot—change.
*This is an Erotic Romance. Recommended for readers 18+ ONLY.
WARNING: This book contains possible emotional triggers.
HARD is a full-length stand-alone erotic romance novel (approximately 50,000 words).
Amazon
AUTHOR BIO:
Cheryl McIntyre is the author of the bestselling Sometimes Never series, as well as the Dirty series, Infinitely, and Dark Calling.
She calls Ohio home, though she secretly dreams of living somewhere much warmer--preferably near a beach. She is a mother, author, and insomniac, as well as a reader, self-proclaimed movie critic, and incredibly bad singer. Her life revolves around four things: family, music, books, and really bad scary movies.
You can follow her author page on Facebook where she lives part time. On Goodreads—which is like crack for avid readers. On Twitter, though she has still not yet mastered the art of tweeting. On tsū. Or on her website.
AUTHOR LINKS:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CherylHMcIntyre
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1CjEeLT
Website: http://cherylmcintyrebooks.com/
Stay up to date on all of Cheryl's new releases by joining her newsletter here: http://bit.ly/1C2azm3
HARD by Cheryl McIntyre Excerpts:
I have been watching her for three months.
For ninety-two days, I’ve looked into those lifeless green eyes. Let my gaze slide over her flawless, pale skin. Fantasized about her luscious lips.
For ninety-two days she has inspired me in ways I never knew possible. A muse, unbeknownst to her. Motivating me. Encouraging my darkest desires to life through my work. Just when I was so close to giving up, surrendering to my unchangeable fate, I spotted her, and haven’t been able to look away since.
I don’t think she has a clue that my eyes find her the moment I step into this establishment. She’s oblivious to the way I always sit at the same table—the one with the best view of the bar. Of her. Unaware I spend my evenings watching her.
Memorizing her. Inch by exquisite inch.
Her soft beauty and innocent naivety keeps me coming back. Over and over, since the day she first served me. My cock grows hard beneath the shelter of the table as she strides toward me, her breasts bouncing lightly with each step. My arousal has nothing to do with sexual gratification. Though she has a beautiful body, curvy in all the places a man’s hands like to grip, and hold, and conquer, I’m turned on by the way she makes me feel inside. By the strength and craving and ambition she has unknowingly restored in me.
A man’s wet fantasy. A woman’s aspiration. My divine intervention.
“Take off your clothes.” My voice is gravelly and I hardly recognize it. I’ve imagined how she looks naked a million different times. Dreamt of this moment more than I can count. My hands circle around the device clutched in my grip, squeezing firmly.
One auburn brow arches as if in challenge, a silent remark to my lack of polite request. I mimic her, cocking my own brow, but give her nothing else. Manners don’t belong in the bedroom. This is who I am and I do not apologize for it.
I ask once—and only once. I offer a choice and they make their decision. After that, it’s my way. Anybody who doesn’t agree is free to leave. I don’t want her to go—I’ve waited far too long for this—but I am who I am and I will not—cannot—change.
She threw me off with the striptease and the drink. And that kiss. That hot as hell, fucking kiss. But I’ve had enough questions and more than enough storytelling for one night. Talking like this, sharing my personal shit—I don’t do it. I bind. I photograph. And I fuck. There’s no point in anything else.
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