Title: A Perfect Mess (A Perfect Secret Series, #1)
Author: Zoe Dawson
Release date: August 19, 2013
Publisher: Blue Moon Creative, LLC (self)
Age Group: New Adult/Adult
Tour organized by: AToMR Tours
Links to find the book:
Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Perfect-Mess-Secret-ebook/dp/B00ED4WKKC/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1376613482&sr=8-3&keywords=a+perfect+mess
Barnes and Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-perfect-mess-zoe-dawson/1116335071?ean=2940148694373
I know what you did last summer.
Aubree Walker, the perfect girl most likely to succeed, is sure there’s only one person who knows what she did.
Booker Outlaw, one of the three Outlaw brothers—all identical, all gorgeous, all from the wrong side of the tracks, and all pure bad boys. He was always the unpredictable one, the one who would be brash enough to make it big self-publishing horror novels on the internet. He promised never to tell, but everyone knows you can never trust an Outlaw.
Then a year later, in the middle of the night, she receives a phone call at Tulane. Her aunt, who took her in after her mother’s death, is in a coma under suspicious circumstances. Now she has to face that one person who knows all about what she did that summer—sexy Booker.
Returning to Hope Parish to be with her aunt, stirs up all those ugly memories. When Aubree starts getting threats, she can’t help but wonder if what she did last summer was tied to her aunt’s “accident.” Afraid, she turns to the only person who knows the truth and Booker doesn’t hesitate to offer his broad shoulder for her to lean on. But Booker has a secret of his own that could crush their fledgling relationship.
As the hot, sultry summer days move on, she finds that even a perfectly smart girl can lose her heart to a perfectly bad boy. What is she going to do when someone starts asking questions Aubree doesn’t want to answer? She’s knee deep into a terribly dangerous, wholly life changing, who-can-she-really-depend-on perfect mess.
It took us about thirty minutes to sever the legs and skin them. Once that was done, we washed our hands at the sink. “You got frog guts all over you.”
She shrugged, pulling off the white shirt to reveal a gray cotton tank top. She balled it up and stuffed it in her bag. “So do you.”
“Ugh. Let me take care of that.” I pulled my t-shirt over my head and chucked it into the laundry room behind me. “Do you want something to drink?”
When she didn’t answer, I looked back at her. She just stood there. She had a shell-shocked expression on her face. Then it dawned on me. She couldn’t speak because she was struck dumb by my bare back and chest. I took in a quick breath.
She was so damned beautiful, even when she’d been wearing her frog-gut-smeared shirt. Beautiful in a tousled, repressed, coming-undone sort of way, and up close, in the bright light of my kitchen, her red hair gleaming, her green eyes glazed, she looked exotic.
Every adolescent wish, dream and hope about Aubree and her mouth spiraled down to my dick. But I knew better than to kiss her. So I opened the fridge and grabbed the closest pitcher, the sweet tea. Opening the cupboard, I grabbed two glasses and filled them. I felt her breath on my shoulder and I swallowed. I turned and handed her one of the glasses.
“Thanks,” she said breathlessly. She wasn’t making this any easier. “And thank you for bringing me out here tonight.” She took a sip of her tea. “It helped to get my mind off of, you know, the, ah, text.”
I noticed she hadn’t moved back, even though I’d given her the glass. Her blush was deepening, and she was having a hard time holding my gaze. Despite her best attempts, her attention kept straying to my chest and my abs, and down the length of my arms.
“We should probably get going with cleaning up the frog guts and all.”
She took a gulp of her tea and set it down. Her eyes honed to a spot on the right side of my face. “Talk about frog guts. You have some on your…” she reached out and clasped the back of my neck presumably to hold me still. She froze me in place, one of those hot freezes, where the sensation of touch, no matter where it started, somehow ended up jolting my balls. Then she brushed her thumb along my cheekbone. Fuck.
I didn’t need this.
Her eyes were on my mouth again, and I’m not some freaking saint, here. That was it. I was toast. I couldn’t go the next five minutes without kissing her. With a soft groan of surrender, I covered her mouth ever so gently. My hands almost circled her tiny waist. I wanted to savor her, drink her in like a fragrant morning air. Kissing her lit up every cell in my body like she was a live wire.
I couldn’t let go of her. I knew I should.
“Should we … I—you, umm…” she said breathlessly, her voice sighing against my mouth as she leaned back far enough to run her thumb across my bottom lip. Her heart pounded against my chest wall as I ran my teeth over her neck, gently grazing her skin.
About the Author
Zoe Dawson is the alter ego of Karen Anders, award winning, multi-published author. Her writing journey started with poetry and branched out into fiction. With a couple of college English courses under her belt, she penned a historical, then moved onto contemporary romance fiction. Today, she is happy producing romantic suspense, romantic comedy/mystery, new adult, urban fantasy. The words feed her soul and the happily ever afters feed her heart.
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