Thursday, December 11, 2014

MILF: Wrong Kind of Love by Erin Noelle: Cover Reveal w/ Excerpt & Giveaway

Blurb:

Wrong Kind of Love

A story of forbidden love with a side of revenge...

When my husband of nearly twenty years abruptly left me for another woman, I thought my life was over.

But I was wrong...

Wrong for thinking I was weak, wrong for assuming I couldn't go on, wrong for believing I wouldn't love again.

No matter what anyone else thinks,
Wrong never felt so right.

Releases: January 15, 2015



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About the Author:

Erin Noelle is a Texas native, where she lives with her husband and two young daughters. While earning her degree in History, she rediscovered her love for reading that was first instilled by her grandmother when she was a young child. A lover of happily-ever-afters, both historical and current, Erin is an avid reader of all romance novels. She has recently self-published her first novel, Metamorphosis, which hit both USA Today and Amazon best-selling lists, and is currently working on the sequel, Ambrosia, to be released later in 2013. Most nights you can find her cuddled up in bed with her husband, her Kindle in hand and a sporting event of some sorts on television.


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Excerpt:

It’s a little after eight when the sound of the front door closing wakes me up from the nap I wasn’t planning on taking. Apparently, doing absolutely nothing all day long is very exhausting.

I leap out of the bed and take a quick glimpse in the mirror, straightening my shirt and finger-styling my hair before heading downstairs. I’m honestly not sure what to expect from Mia, if she’ll pretend like nothing happened or want to address the situation, but her avoiding me and the house all day tells me she’s probably reluctant to let it transpire again.

I need to convince her otherwise.

With her back to me amidst a sea of overflowing plastic grocery bags, she’s bent over in the refrigerator, rearranging the contents to make room for the massive amount of food she’s just bought. The shirt she has on has ridden up on her hips, leaving me a clear view of her shapely ass which fills out the pair of black cotton shorts she’s wearing impeccably.

All of the blood in my body has redirected its flow to directly between my legs as I imagine what it’d be like to take her from behind… my hands grabbing hold of her hips, her back arched presenting that tight, wet pussy to me. Fuck, I can’t go up to her with my shorts tented out like it’s housing a three-ring circus.

“I know you’re there, Gray,” she announces before I can escape back to the safety of my room. “We need to talk.”

Talking wasn’t really what I had in mind, but I can work with it.

I slowly inch my way farther into the kitchen, trying desperately to think of all things non-sexy such as yield return graphs and profit-loss spreadsheets, but with her head buried in the fridge and her ass still in the air, I’m failing epically.

“Yeah?” I don’t mean for it to come out like a question, so I clear my throat and try again. “Yeah, we do.”

Straightening to her full height, which can’t be more than about five-foot-five, she gradually rotates around to face me. With her firm rear no longer in my line of sight, my eyes travel up her body, lingering over her erect nipples straining against the light blue shirt, which cause me to wonder if it’s the cold air they were just exposed to or my presence that has them aroused.

My eyes eventually find hers, and no matter what words are about to leave her mouth, I know by the heated gaze she’s watching me with—the one that’s relishing the way I’m eye-fucking her—that she wants this as bad as I do.

Gaining confidence, my small steps graduate into long strides until I’ve closed the distance between us in a matter of seconds. She backs up slightly, but with the large stainless appliance behind her, she’s got nowhere to go. I wait to touch her, wait until she says whatever bullshit nonsense she’s got to say to make herself feel better, before I lay my hands on her and make her forget about whatever stupid-ass, preconceived set of rules society has put on our relationship.

Truth is I’m a man, she’s a woman, neither of us is married, and we aren’t blood-related, so as far as I’m concerned, we’re good to fucking go.

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