mercoledì 18 dicembre 2013

Book Blitz: Holiday Heat di Noelle Adams + giveaway

Eccoci ad un nuovo book blitz, ideato come sempre da Giselle di Xpresso Book Tours; questa volta vi presento un racconto new adult contemporaneo che fa parte di un'antologia, spero possa piacervi :) 

Titolo: Holiday Heat
Autore: Noelle Adams
Genere: New adult contemporaneo
Trama: After being hit with heartbreaking tragedy, Carrie has thrown herself into a hot, secret relationship with Matt. With Christmas approaching, she realizes she might want even more from her sexy, damaged artist, but the boundaries around their relationship make anything deeper than sex impossible.
Matt was the rising star of the art world, but he hasn’t painted since a tragic accident two years ago. His passion for Carrie finally inspires him, but first he must convince her that the heat between them is far more than just sex.

Noelle Adams handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she teaches English, reads any book she can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances.



“What is it?” Matt asked. His vivid eyes were knowing and astute. Sometimes she wondered how far inside her soul they could see.
“Feeling guilty about your sleazy affair?” he asked with light irony.
His question was perceptive—just shy of the truth—and it left her feeling a little uneasy. To hide her response, she raised her eyebrows. “I thought you said ‘affair’ wasn’t the appropriate word.”
He chuckled and reached over to skim his fingers along her back again, lingering on the spot he’d admired before—the deep curve and dip just above her bottom.
She watched him in silence. He was looking at her body with an expression that was both amused and strangely hungry. His coloring had evened out, although he was still wet with perspiration. Her eyes dipped from his face to his chest, and she couldn’t help but notice the lines of faint scars there. There were a lot of them. And more on his arms. Plus the two deep ones on the side of his head.
He’d barely survived that car accident two years ago.
Matt’s body wasn’t perfect—wasn’t flawless and invulnerable. His muscle development was lean, masculine, and efficient, but he wasn’t a body-builder. And he was scarred. Scarred so deeply. Scarred in so many ways.


“Why don’t you have any tattoos?” she asked, trying to drag herself away from the soft feelings her reflections had prompted.
“Why would I have tattoos?”
“I don’t know. You seem like the kind of guy who would have tattoos. You’ve got that hard edge, you know.”
He chuckled. “When an activity is so common that college kids do it when they’re drunk, I think it’s time to admit that the activity has lost its edge.”
She burst into giggles when the words processed. Sometime in the last three months, she’d learned how to laugh again—although she couldn’t really pinpoint when it had happened.
“You’re not that much older than college kids, you know. You shouldn’t sound so superior.”
“If you say so.”
Still smiling, she reached over to stroke his chest, her hand gliding over the smoothly rippling muscles and scattering of coarse hair.
“Do you want me to get a tattoo?” he asked, a different note in his voice.
“No.” Her fingers lingered on a jagged scar that slashed through the curve of his ribcage.
“I guess my body is marked enough.”


Then, like a predator, he pounced. One moment, they were both sitting innocently on the side of the bed. The next, he’d pushed her back against the mattress and had rolled fully on top of her.
“Hey!” she objected, “You’re all sweaty! And I’m nice and clean.”
With a low laugh, Matt murmured, “Not anymore.”
He was right. His body covered hers wholly and his skin was rubbing all over her.
“Matt!” she wailed, before he stifled her grievances with a kiss.
The kiss was deep and unexpectedly urgent, and Carrie couldn’t help but respond. Her mouth opened to the advance of his tongue, and she groaned in pleasure as a wave of desire and feeling overwhelmed her. Soon, she was squirming beneath him, but not in protest.
He was hard now—again—and she felt his erection trapped between their bodies. Instinctively, she rocked up into it and loved the way his body tightened in response.
Finally, he tore his mouth away and kissed his way down to the racing pulse in her neck.
“Damn it, Matt,” she gasped, trying hard to sound more annoyed than aroused. “Now I’m going to have to shower again.”
“No, you won’t.” He gently bit down on the skin of her throat, prompting a tug of deep pleasure that made her jerk. “You’ll get dressed after this, or you’ll be late for work. Then you’ll go through the entire day, completely covered with me.”
His voice was erotic. The sound of it and the images his words evoked made her shiver in pleasure. But she said, “You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m not. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t enjoy it. Every time someone brushes against you, you’ll wonder if they can smell me on you. Every time you walk or cross your legs, you’ll feel me inside you. Every time you breathe, you’ll think about how good we are together.”


“Damn it,” she choked, unconsciously grinding her groin against his hand. “How dare you get me all hot and bothered in a dressing room, when there’s nothing we can do about it?”
“What do you mean?” he murmured. “Why shouldn’t we?”
She gasped, from both surprise and pleasure. “What? What?”
“Turn around, Carrie.” The words were low, irresistible.
She turned around, flattening her back against the wall. Matt was so close she could feel the heat of his body pulsing between them. He kissed her hard and deep, and then he slid his hands down over the black dress, following the descent of his hands with the rest of his body as he knelt down onto the floor.
She gaped at him. “What?”
He gave her a predatory smile and ran his hands up her bare legs, pushing her skirt up as he did. 
She clutched at the fabric automatically when it was bunched up at her waist. And she widened her stance at Matt’s urging. He slid down her panties.
“Are you really—?” A sharp inhalation broke off her question.


“What’s so funny?” he demanded.
“Nothing. It’s just that you’re not exactly the kind of guy a girl would just dig up for an acceptable date to a family party.” Matt was more like dream-date material. She never would have had the courage to ask him out had she run into him in any normal way.
“What does that mean?” To her surprise, he actually sounded offended. “I can be an acceptable date.”
“What are you getting all grouchy about? I just meant you’re too good to be dug up from the bottom of the heap.”
“Oh.” His expression relaxed. “That’s all right then.”
She couldn’t help but giggle again at his quickly changing emotions. He was definitely an artist. 
“Now you’re all pleased with yourself again. I’ve never met a man with such pomposity.”
He slid his hand down her spine and kept it at the small of her back as he walked with her to the front door. “What did you say I have?”
“I’m not sure that’s really a word.”
“Of course it is. It’s the state of being pompous. Look it up. The dictionary will cross-list the word with ‘Matthew Lynch’.”
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