Saturday, April 8, 2017

The Best Man (Allen Brothers #1) by Barbie Bohrman: Blog Tour Excerpt & Giveaway


Blurb:

Veronica Webber is single again after being in a loveless marriage way past its expiration date. For the first time in a very long time, she feels free and after being burned so badly by love in the past, any thought of romance is the last thing on her mind.

In walks a man from her past, Trevor Allen, a tall, dark, and handsome womanizer who is usually all about the bottom line. For Trevor that bottom line has always been made up of the countless notches on his bedpost. But when he sees Veronica after so many years, he can’t help but be drawn to her and know her again… even if that means being friend-zoned from the start.

As this unlikely pair spends more and more time together, they quickly realize that there might be something between them that goes past "just friends." But there’s just one tiny detail that makes this situation slightly more complicated… Trevor was Veronica’s ex-husband’s best man at their wedding nine years ago.

So when past mistakes and indiscretions come back to haunt them, will their happily ever after end before it even gets started?

Or will the best man win this time.






Click to Buy Barbie Borhman's Books on Amazon:

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About the Author:

Barbie Bohrman was born and raised in Miami, FL and ultimately moved to the Garden State where she currently resides with her husband and two children. Life, and all that comes along with it and having long since given up on her dream of pursuing anything in the writing world, a prologue contest in a book club garnered her interest enough to throw her hat in the ring to see what, if anything, would come from it. From that contest came the roots of her debut novel, Promise Me. When she is not writing you can find her trying to get through the 1000+ books on her Kindle, or watching Lost or Seinfeld.

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Excerpt:

“What the...you have got to be shitting me?”

“What was that?” the bartender asked me when he brought back my change.

“Is that a Donna Summer song that came on the jukebox just now? Am I being punked right now?”

“Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude.”

I turned around, ignoring the bartender who was probably too young to know a good goddamn about music other than maybe the Biebs. Poor guy. The bartender, not the Biebs.

My dick was practically hiding at this point. It was sad and lonely, and apparently had a thing for disco classics. Or rather, it had a thing for one woman who had a thing for disco classics. And in no uncertain terms, my dick was going to be a dick tonight.

Since when did I have...Jesus, I could barely bring myself to think it. Since when did I have feelings?

Or a conscience, I guess is what it’s called too. I’m not sure because I’ve never fucking had one before when it came to a woman. And the best part about all of this was that Veronica wasn’t even an option. So what? My dick would just keep making decisions based on whether disco would be played anywhere I went? The fuck was that about?

“Are you ready?” Liv asked.

I was going to do it. Actually, I was going to not do it...the sex. God help me, I would apparently rather go home alone and, I don’t know, take up knitting or some shit instead of taking Liv home and fucking her every way to Sunday.

“Actually, Liv, I’m going to have to take a rain check,” I said as smoothly as possible.

She cocked her head to the side. Obviously, she hadn’t seen this coming either. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I lied, because I was not okay. “It’s some work stuff that just came up. Jack and I had a last-minute thing that—”

“It’s okay, Trevor, you don’t have to explain,” she said. Liv gathered her things before planting a light kiss on my lips. “Rain check it is, then. See you later, handsome.”

I watched Liv walk out of the lounge and turn left once she was outside to go wherever the hell she went when we weren’t together. Maybe she would call on another man, one just like me that she had a list of to fall back on if idiots like me fell through. All I knew was that my sure thing for tonight was now a distant memory, and fucking Donna Summer was to thank for all of this.

“Last dance, my ass, Donna,” I muttered, pulling out bills to leave a tip.

“What was that?” the bartender asked.

“Nothing. Keep the change.”

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