Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Elements of Chemistry: ATTRACTION (Hypothesis Series Book 1) by Penny Reid: Blog Tour w/ Excerpt & Giveaway


Blurb:

One week.

Private beach.

Invisible girl.

Jerk-faced bully.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Kaitlyn Parker has no problem being the invisible girl, which is why she finds herself hiding in various cabinets and closets all over her college campus. Despite her best efforts, she can’t escape the notice of Martin Sandeke—bad boy, jerkface bully, and the universe’s hottest, wealthiest, and most unobtainable bachelor—who also happens to be Kaitlyn’s chemistry lab partner.

Kaitlyn might be the only girl who isn’t interested in exploiting his stunning rower’s build, chiseled features, and family's billionaire fortune. Kaitlyn wants Martin for his brain, specifically to tabulate findings of trace elements in surface water.

When Kaitlyn saves Martin from a nefarious plot, Martin uses the opportunity to push Kaitlyn out of her comfort zone: spring break, one week, house parties, bathing suits, and suntan lotion. Can she overcome her aversion to being noticed? Will he be able grow beyond his self-centered nature? Or, despite their obvious chemistry, will Martin be the one to drive Kaitlyn into the science cabinet of obscurity for good?



Click to Buy the Hypothesis Series on Amazon:

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About Penny Reid:

Penny Reid is a part time author of romantic fiction. When she is not immersed in penning smart romances she works full time in the biotech industry as a researcher. She's also a full time mom to two diminutive adults (boy-7 and girl-5), wife, daughter, knitter, crocheter, sewer, general crafter, and thought hijacker.



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Excerpt:

“Parker.”

I jumped at the sound of my name coming from Martin’s lips and turned to face him. I also, for reasons known only to my subconscious, balled my hands into fists and lifted them between us, like I was prepared for a fist fight or a boxing match.

He studied my defensive posturing and smirked, taking the seat Sam had vacated without asking permission. Meanwhile I glared at him, my mental wall up and prepped, though my hands fell back to my lap. I had to do this because… super-hot boy alert level ten thousand.

“Sandeke,” I said. I knew I sounded ridiculous, like I was greeting a sworn enemy, but I had to be on guard.

His gaze skated over my face then flickered to my hands, still fists, on my lap. Then he gave my hands a smile. Apparently they amused him.

“Are you going to hit me?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “It depends on if you take your pants off again.”

“You’ll hit me if I take my pants off?”

“Yeah… I might give you a junk-punch.”

He laughed, very loudly and very suddenly, and with the complete abandon that comes from being surprised. But his laugh was a radioactive seduction and had a half-life of infinity. I wanted him to stop laughing never. It made his eyes crinkle and his mouth curve in a sinful smile, showcasing his excellent dental hygiene regimen.

He also looked so different. He usually wore an expression of perpetual unimpressed boredom. Perpetual unimpressed boredom was a good look for him, a very good look. As were all the other expressions I’d seen, like distrust, mischievous amusement, thunderous anger, unveiled interest, etc.

But laughter… he almost looked happy. Happiness on Martin was a revelation of beauty and physical perfection married to excellent and infectious good-mood-vibes. I let my fists drop. Less than a minute into our first interaction on this trip and my carefully constructed defenses had been virtually blown to bits.

I might as well wave the white panties of surrender.

“Oh, well. Barnacles.” I said to nothing and no one.

His laugh gradually receded and his eyes flickered over me. “No more fists.”

“Nope. There’s no use,” I’m sure I sounded despondent.

“So you think I could take you in a fist fight?”

“I think you could take me whenever…” I shrugged. “If you wanted to, and I really only have myself to blame.”

Martin narrowed his eyes, and they sharpened, surveying me. “You don’t look happy about this.”

“I’m not.”

“Why not?”

I stared at him for a beat then freely admitted the truth. “Here is the problem Martin. I feel like I like you.”
The sharpness in his gaze softened and his mouth curved into a lazy, satisfied smile. “That doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”

“But it is,” I pressed. “Because the feeling originates entirely in my pants.

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