From USA
Today bestselling author Naima Simone comes an electrifying romance
about a pro basketball player and a graphic novelist who can’t seem to stay in
the friend zone.
Miriam
It’s
no coincidence that my family’s breakup service is called BURNED Inc. I know
what it’s like to be dumped. I’ve been there.
Long
story short, I’ve got a rule when it comes to my love life: no athletes. As it
happens, my best friend, Jordan, is a professional basketball player. He also
has a delicious body and sexy tattoos.
But
rules are rules.
Jordan
Miriam
is my best friend. She’s also the love of my life, the woman I’ve been dreaming
about since we met. But she doesn’t do athletes.
I
get it. I really do. And I just want Miriam to be happy. Which is why I set her
up with a teammate to help her find the man she deserves—even though I can tell
she’s into me from that one hot-as-hell night we shared months ago. Still,
rules are rules.
But
here’s the thing: I’m a competitor.
And
sometimes you have to break the rules to win.
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60444350-ravaged
Purchase:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3GmpROH
Ravaged
Excerpt
“Why were you about to leave?” Jordan brushes his lips across
my forehead, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. “No, let me guess. Got too close
for you. Too real. And what do two people like us, who come from f*cked-up homes
where we saw the worst people had to give to each other, know about intimacy, right?
It scares the hell out of us. Or it should. And normally, it does. But not with
you, Miriam. And you can feel safe with me. I won’t hurt you. Won’t use whatever
you share with me against you. So don’t run. Stay.”
Stay.
A shudder ripples through me, and I don’t try to stifle it.
Stay. I’ve been wanted for several reasons. My IQ. My
talent. Sex.
But no one’s ever asked me to just be.
And not with them.
For how long?
The question sits on my tongue like a five-hundred-pound anvil,
but I don’t voice it, too afraid of the response. Besides, for once, I’m also content
to just be.
Tilting my head back, I rest it on his shoulder. This up close
and personal with him, I can catalog every detail on his face. The black pupil with
the very thin ring of brown. The tiny scar on the edge of his right cheekbone. The
deep dip above his top lip that lends it the bow shape. The almost-there-but-not-quite
cleft in his chin.
I’ve drawn him countless times in the last few weeks. So many
that his face is as familiar to me as my own. And yet, I could analyze him for hours
and still find new elements that would fascinate me. Jordan Ransom could become
a new field of study, and I would easily earn my doctorate in him.
“Tonight, I told Daniel I couldn’t see him any longer.”
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t speak. Yet my heart pounds
in my chest, and the beat grows louder, the volume so deafening I can barely hear
my own voice.
“It wouldn’t have been fair,” I whisper.
“Why not?” he asks, and that dark, low timbre is midnight and
sin. Temptation wrapped in sex.
“You know why.”
He bends his head the scant inches separating us and only stops
when his mouth hovers a breath above mine. “Say it,” he orders, his lips so close
they nearly brush mine.
“Because he isn’t you.”
Jordan doesn’t move, and I can taste his kiss, but he doesn’t
eliminate the remaining space between us. Doesn’t take my mouth and give me what
I can now admit I came here for. No, instead he stares at me, his expression inscrutable.
Unease twists inside me, and for the first time since he placed me on his lap, I
want to climb off, insert space between us.
“We’re going to f*ck,” he states, and while the word sends
a lightning bolt of heat straight between my legs, it tightens the screw on my unease,
deepens it. Because his tone is flat, almost disconnected.
“Yes.” We are. I need him tonight. And I won’t be able to stop
at a kiss. I’m too empty, too hungry. I haven’t felt complete since the last time
he filled me.
“And I’m going to be your mistake.” His fingers thread through
my hair, sifting before fisting the curls and bringing them to his nose. He inhales,
his eyes closing and, for a moment, freeing me from their hold. It’s in this instant
that a flicker of emotion flashes across his face. Pleasure. Pain. Both. But when
his lashes lift, his expression is back to being a mask of inscrutability. “Don’t
misunderstand me. I’m still going to f*ck you. I find I’m so goddam desperate to
be inside you I’m willing to have you any way I can. But I just want to make sure
I know where we stand.”
Oh God.
Regret pierces me in the chest, sliding between my ribs like
the sharpest blade. I have a lot to answer for. The latest being from a couple of
nights ago. I run the moments after our kiss through my head. I never called him
a mistake, never said I regretted what happened on my couch. But viewing my actions,
my silence, through his lens, I can see how he’d interpret them that way. And coupled
with how I friend-zoned him after the first time we had sex, calling that a mistake . . . well, damn.
Briefly closing my eyes, I hate myself for causing this bold,
beautiful man even a second of self-doubt. He’s no one’s mistake. No one’s regret.
And I can tell him that. I could write him a fucking sonnet about that.
Or I could show him.
Blitz-wide giveaway (INT)
- Reader
tote bag
- $15
Amazon gift card
- Signed
print copies of Ravaged, Don’t You Forget About Me, Black Sheep
Bargain, With Love from Rose Bend (UK print copy with illustrated cover)
- Reader
socks
AUTHOR BIO:
Author links:
http://naimasimone.com/
https://twitter.com/Naima_Simone
https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/y7o1t4
https://www.facebook.com/naimasimoneauthor
https://www.instagram.com/naimasimoneauthor/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3232449.Naima_Simone
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