Title: Dirty Deeds

An Irresistible Series Standalone

Dirty Deeds is the first book I’ve read by Stella Rhys, and I will definitely be coming back for more! I loved the friends-to-enemies-to-roommates story between Emmett and Aly. The meet cute — that happens 12 years after a huge falling out when they are teenagers — is so hot and steamy and sets up so much sexual tension between the characters as they navigate being roommates, Emmett still wanting Aly after all these years, and Aly trying her hardest to fight the attraction she feels towards the guy who she believes ruined her life.

But this story had so much depth to it as well. Emmett is so much more than what you see on the surface, and the lengths he’s gone to to protect those that he loves is absolutely swoon-worthy and heartbreaking at the same time. This book is a definite re-read!

 

 

EXCERPT:

NOELY

“Just state my name?”

“Yeah. Gives us a quick rundown on who you are, what you do, your interests, and what you’re looking for in a man.”

I nod and clear my throat. Sitting tall, my hands resting in my lap, I speak directly into the camera . . .

“Hi, I’m Noely Clark, and I’m one of your Good Morning, Malibu hosts. As you know, I’m single and in the market for love. As a twenty-seven-year-old woman who has had her fair share of rotten relationships, hookups, and dates, I want to try something new. I want to be thrust into a program where my celebrity status isn’t the first thing someone knows about me, where I can be known for who I am as a person rather than how I’m represented on TV.”

“And who is the person you want to be known for?”

Tilting my head to the side, I purse my lips, thinking of my answer. “Just a regular girl who loves Tom Hanks, would do just about anything adventurous, and would rather be seen eating nachos at a hockey game than enjoying a chardonnay during a classic night at the opera.”

“And what are you looking for in a man?”

Taking a deep breath, I look straight into the camera. “Someone who will cuddle on my couch and watch a classic romcom with me. Someone who will challenge me. Someone who is respectful and courteous to others but also has no qualms about shouting at an official while pounding on the glass at a hockey game. We don’t have to be a perfect match, because when is that really the case? But I want our match to be close with a little bit of wiggle room for some give and take, because what’s love without a little bit of compromise, without being able to adapt to your partner and love what they love? It’s the people in our life who mold us, and I’m far from being molded completely.”

 

 

 

BLURB

Recommended for mature readers due to strong language and explicit sexual situations.

I never believed in fate. That was something for the dreamers, the romantics, not someone as practical and pragmatic as I.

Fate had nothing to do with me walking in on my soon-to-be husband in a compromising position with his secretary.

Fate had nothing to do with me hopping on a plane to Rome, effectively standing up my former fiancé on our wedding day.

And fate certainly had nothing to do with the handsome stranger sitting across the aisle from me, one who would open my mind and heart to things I never thought possible.

Because if fate is real, if fate is pulling the strings, if fate is in charge of each person’s destiny, she’s cruel and unforgiving.

Why would fate want me to experience a connection as I never had in my life, only to remind me it’s fleeting?

Why would fate give me everything I never knew I always wanted?

Why would fate let me have a taste, then crush those dreams?

He could never be mine.
I could never be his.
And his deception may just be my breaking point.

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“Good Morning Malibu, it’s another beautiful day on the west coast! I’m Noely Clark, your host: and I’m in the market for love…”

Good Morning Malibu,

I’m Noely Clark, and I have a choice to make.

“There is no way that’s what that line means.”

“It sure as hell does.”

“That’s ridiculous. What, did you study palm reading as well as Spanish?”

He chuckles and says, “I just know things. And that line right there means you’re allergic to coffee.”

I shake my head and laugh. “You’re such a liar.”

He strokes my palm with his finger, running it along every line, making my insides flutter and my breathing pick up with each stroke. He’s so close, his body practically on top of mine, his breath pressed against my ear, his scruff rubbing my skin ever so gently. And me, well, see my hips? Yeah, they’re slowly gyrating in his direction. I would like to blame the margarita, or even the music, but I know that’s not the case. It’s my libido skyrocketing into dangerous territories from the way this man lightly strokes me in just the right way.

“Not a liar, just telling you what I see.”

“Is that so?” I lean in closer and ask, “Then how come I have coffee every morning and I’m fine? Seems to me like you just wanted an excuse to touch me so you pretended to be a palm reader.”

I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

“You’re right. I did. Now give me a chance to touch you even more.” He retreats from the booth and holds out his hand for me to follow.

I take it without even giving it a second thought. Smiling devilishly, he guides me to the dance floor and immediately spins me into his arms where he takes my hands and links them behind his neck. Pulling me into his body, he places his hands on my hips and presses his forehead against mine.

As if it’s second nature to him, he starts moving us back and forth along the dance floor, his feet effortlessly gliding us. Intimidated at first, after a few passes across the floor, I start to feel the music and my muscles begin to loosen up.

“That’s it,” he whispers just loud enough so I can hear him over the music. “Loosen those hips, Sassy.”

A distinct trumpet and cowbell echo through the room, setting the pace and tone to the dance. It’s fast, yet commanding, encouraging us to grind together, and that’s what Beck does. His hands slide from my hips to my butt where he grips tightly and pulls me flush against his crotch. With my legs entwined with his, we stay in place as our hips gyrate together.

Breathless and turned on, I match his gaze with mine, his seductive eyes penetrating any last wall I might have had before this date, and for once in a long time, I let loose . . . completely.

“Just like that. God, you look so sexy.”

Leaning my head back, I let my hair fall behind me and give it a little shake before lifting my head back up and meeting his lust-filled, greedy eyes. His hands grip my butt tighter and I’m greeted by a noticeable hard-on.

I did that to him, and if that isn’t a turn-on, I don’t know what is.

My fingers start to play with his hair, twisting and turning the short strands, causing his eyes to haze over. Is it weird I want more? That even though our pelvises are pressed against each other, I want to be closer?

The music now flowing through me, controlling my every movement, I glide my hands down to his shirt where my fingers dexterously undo two more of his buttons, exposing more of his tan skin, his necklace in full view now. It’s a medallion I can’t quite make out, but it doesn’t matter right now, because all I care about is the muscular expanse of chest in front of me.

I slip my fingers inside his shirt and dance them across his chest, feeling the sinew of muscles flex with every move we make together.

When one of my fingers accidentally caresses one of his nipples, he growls into my ear and turns me around in his arms, causing me to temporarily lose my breath, that’s until his hands find mine again, securing my butt right against his crotch. I sigh and loop my hand around me to the back of his neck, anchoring me in place while he swivels our hips together, his lips pressed against my ear.

“Fuck, you feel good against me,” he whispers. His breath sends chills up and down my entire body as the music continues to guide me.

I push my butt even harder against his erection, heavy and obvious, swiveling my hips, loving the way I can feel his excitement so easily. I love that I affect him like this.

I’ve never been with a man so comfortable in his own skin that he doesn’t care about how I affect him. It’s like he’s proud of it. Of us.

It’s extremely rewarding.

Feeling the music, we dance slowly in tandem, letting the beat guide us. Still hanging on to him, my other hand now on top of one of his, he starts to feel the length of my leg, his body bending just slightly to reach the hem of my dress. When he moves his hand under the fabric, my breath stills for a second before he pulls away and lifts his hand back up my body until both of his hands reach my ribcage.

Oh God.

His head peers over my shoulder, his eyes trained down the valley of my cleavage. “I told you this dress was going to get you into trouble tonight and the way you’re moving against me, my self-control is slipping, Sassy.”

Taking a deep breath, I move his hand farther up my body and say, “Then let your will slip.”

“Fuck,” he growls into my ear, letting his hand move to just below my breasts. I suck in a breath from the contact and wait for him to move a little higher, but he doesn’t. Instead, he swivels his hips with mine and moves his hands down my sides until they’re resting on my thighs, his thumbs closing in on the juncture between my legs.

The heat level between us rises to inferno in the matter of seconds and my skin starts to prickle with need, a yearning I haven’t felt since . . . well since Jack, but before that, since I can’t remember.

“I don’t know how much more dancing I can do with you,” he says into my ear. “I’m about to combust here.”

I turn in his arms and look straight at him. “Then let’s get out of here.”

The way the words fall off my tongue sound so foreign to me, but then again, there’s not a chance in hell I want to take them back.

 

 

Sunny Shelly’s Review: 5 North Star Stars

The Thing About Love is a perfect blend of awkward, funny, swoon, romance, family, fight and forgiveness. I was completely enthralled with quirky Jules and sexy Jake (aka Dr. Kiss) from the moment of their terribly awkward meet cute. Seriously. Cake in the face will be one that I don’t easily forget!

Jules and Jake get off to a terrible start — their first impressions were not the best! — but when they are forced to work together to plan his sister’s high-society wedding in just over a month, they begin to slowly get into each other’s hearts as much as they get under one another’s skin. Before long, Jules realizes that Jake is her home, the yin to her yang, her North Star.

I adored the twist that connected Jules and Jake in a way that neither one of them anticipated. It united them with a common thread that was so unique and so intense, and gave Jules an opportunity to help Jake heal and let go of the guilt he’s been carrying. But Jake is so wrapped up in his guilt and what he’s running from, that he completely misses what is right in front of him.

Not only were the main characters an antagonistic delight — the story is told in dual POVs, and I enjoyed each and every chapter — but the supporting players were equally delightful. I can’t wait for Jules’ ex, poor Jaxson, to get his own story!

I received an advanced copy and voluntarily left a review.

 

 

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“Good Morning Malibu, it’s another beautiful day on the west coast! I’m Noely Clark, your host: and I’m in the market for love…”

Good Morning Malibu,

I’m Noely Clark, and I have a choice to make.

“There is no way that’s what that line means.”

“It sure as hell does.”

“That’s ridiculous. What, did you study palm reading as well as Spanish?”

He chuckles and says, “I just know things. And that line right there means you’re allergic to coffee.”

I shake my head and laugh. “You’re such a liar.”

He strokes my palm with his finger, running it along every line, making my insides flutter and my breathing pick up with each stroke. He’s so close, his body practically on top of mine, his breath pressed against my ear, his scruff rubbing my skin ever so gently. And me, well, see my hips? Yeah, they’re slowly gyrating in his direction. I would like to blame the margarita, or even the music, but I know that’s not the case. It’s my libido skyrocketing into dangerous territories from the way this man lightly strokes me in just the right way.

“Not a liar, just telling you what I see.”

“Is that so?” I lean in closer and ask, “Then how come I have coffee every morning and I’m fine? Seems to me like you just wanted an excuse to touch me so you pretended to be a palm reader.”

I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

“You’re right. I did. Now give me a chance to touch you even more.” He retreats from the booth and holds out his hand for me to follow.

I take it without even giving it a second thought. Smiling devilishly, he guides me to the dance floor and immediately spins me into his arms where he takes my hands and links them behind his neck. Pulling me into his body, he places his hands on my hips and presses his forehead against mine.

As if it’s second nature to him, he starts moving us back and forth along the dance floor, his feet effortlessly gliding us. Intimidated at first, after a few passes across the floor, I start to feel the music and my muscles begin to loosen up.

“That’s it,” he whispers just loud enough so I can hear him over the music. “Loosen those hips, Sassy.”

A distinct trumpet and cowbell echo through the room, setting the pace and tone to the dance. It’s fast, yet commanding, encouraging us to grind together, and that’s what Beck does. His hands slide from my hips to my butt where he grips tightly and pulls me flush against his crotch. With my legs entwined with his, we stay in place as our hips gyrate together.

Breathless and turned on, I match his gaze with mine, his seductive eyes penetrating any last wall I might have had before this date, and for once in a long time, I let loose . . . completely.

“Just like that. God, you look so sexy.”

Leaning my head back, I let my hair fall behind me and give it a little shake before lifting my head back up and meeting his lust-filled, greedy eyes. His hands grip my butt tighter and I’m greeted by a noticeable hard-on.

I did that to him, and if that isn’t a turn-on, I don’t know what is.

My fingers start to play with his hair, twisting and turning the short strands, causing his eyes to haze over. Is it weird I want more? That even though our pelvises are pressed against each other, I want to be closer?

The music now flowing through me, controlling my every movement, I glide my hands down to his shirt where my fingers dexterously undo two more of his buttons, exposing more of his tan skin, his necklace in full view now. It’s a medallion I can’t quite make out, but it doesn’t matter right now, because all I care about is the muscular expanse of chest in front of me.

I slip my fingers inside his shirt and dance them across his chest, feeling the sinew of muscles flex with every move we make together.

When one of my fingers accidentally caresses one of his nipples, he growls into my ear and turns me around in his arms, causing me to temporarily lose my breath, that’s until his hands find mine again, securing my butt right against his crotch. I sigh and loop my hand around me to the back of his neck, anchoring me in place while he swivels our hips together, his lips pressed against my ear.

“Fuck, you feel good against me,” he whispers. His breath sends chills up and down my entire body as the music continues to guide me.

I push my butt even harder against his erection, heavy and obvious, swiveling my hips, loving the way I can feel his excitement so easily. I love that I affect him like this.

I’ve never been with a man so comfortable in his own skin that he doesn’t care about how I affect him. It’s like he’s proud of it. Of us.

It’s extremely rewarding.

Feeling the music, we dance slowly in tandem, letting the beat guide us. Still hanging on to him, my other hand now on top of one of his, he starts to feel the length of my leg, his body bending just slightly to reach the hem of my dress. When he moves his hand under the fabric, my breath stills for a second before he pulls away and lifts his hand back up my body until both of his hands reach my ribcage.

Oh God.

His head peers over my shoulder, his eyes trained down the valley of my cleavage. “I told you this dress was going to get you into trouble tonight and the way you’re moving against me, my self-control is slipping, Sassy.”

Taking a deep breath, I move his hand farther up my body and say, “Then let your will slip.”

“Fuck,” he growls into my ear, letting his hand move to just below my breasts. I suck in a breath from the contact and wait for him to move a little higher, but he doesn’t. Instead, he swivels his hips with mine and moves his hands down my sides until they’re resting on my thighs, his thumbs closing in on the juncture between my legs.

The heat level between us rises to inferno in the matter of seconds and my skin starts to prickle with need, a yearning I haven’t felt since . . . well since Jack, but before that, since I can’t remember.

“I don’t know how much more dancing I can do with you,” he says into my ear. “I’m about to combust here.”

I turn in his arms and look straight at him. “Then let’s get out of here.”

The way the words fall off my tongue sound so foreign to me, but then again, there’s not a chance in hell I want to take them back.