Twenty-one year-old Jillian Nichols only has one rule when it comes to boys: catch and release. Boy-catching isn’t just a game for Jillian and her friends, it’s a lifestyle. After all, boys might be good for a dance or a drink and certainly a little under-cover action of the scandalous variety, but expect much else and you’re bound for heart ache.
So when her best friends and fellow boy catchers start dropping like flies junior year, Jillian is determined to keep boys in her bedroom and out of her heart. Until she meets Liam McAvoy, the kind of guy that sticks around to make waffles and who can’t—or perhaps won’t—take a hint.
Study abroad student Liam doesn’t want to be another notch on Jillian’s bedpost. Actually he has much more interesting ideas for Jillian and her bedposts, but his student visa’s set expiration date means he can’t promise her forever. That doesn’t mean he’s going to walk away from the challenge of discovering why Jillian is hell-bent at keeping people at a distance.
Before long, neither is sure who is catching who—or if they’re playing for keeps. Jillian knows one thing though: falling in love will not only break the only rule of boy-catching, it could also break her heart.
Color Me intrigued! And just wait till you read this excerpt!
So that was how this date was going to go? Two could play that game. I sat up straighter, putting space between the two of us, but letting his arm dangle casually over my shoulder. Liam offered me the popcorn tub, but I shook my head, my eyes glued to the screen and a lump in my throat.
He leaned over and put his lips so close to my ear that his breath tickled my neck. “Don’t be mad, chicken.”
“I’m not mad,” I said too loudly, which elicited a shush from someone a couple rows away.
He pulled me back towards him, his strong arm wrapping possessively around my shoulders as his other hand turned my chin. As soon as our eyes met, I felt silly.
“It’ll be more fun this way,” he whispered. “I promise.”
“What will be more fun?” I asked in a low voice, narrowing my eyes and trying to still look put out by his rejection.
He answered me with his lips. His kiss was hard and demanding, and despite my every intention to play hard to get, my fingers reached for his chest. I trailed my hands down, my fingertips practically vibrating over his washboard abs, but when I got to his jeans, he reached down, his mouth still over mine, and brought my arms up to his neck. I forgot the slight instantly as his teeth caught my tongue ever so lightly. I moaned, and he drew me closer, pressing our mouths harder together, to stifle the noise. His lips trailed away from my mouth, sketching across my jawline and finding my ear. He nibbled at it, and I had to clamp my mouth shut. It would set a bad precedent if we got kicked out of every place we went to together.
“Like secondary school, remember?” he breathed to me.
I couldn’t help but remember the torture that was a high school date. There was always plenty of kissing and tongues and a fair bit of awkward groping. I’d even gotten the courage up to go down on my boyfriend senior year in a theater not unlike this one, but for the most part, a high school date was like being pumped full of aphrodisiacs and then put in separate glass boxes. There were always too many clothes and zippers and buttons.
But there was also the fear—of getting caught, of going one step too far. The fear was nearly as all-consuming as the hormones, and the fear made every single nerve in my body tingle with nervous anticipation. And then there was the possibility. That this would be the time he slipped his hand down my pants and magically knew exactly what to do. I could act shocked afterwards.
Liam and I were already well past this stage. I’d barely known his name when we covered all the old bases.
“I wouldn’t have had the guts to do this in high school,” I whispered to him, running a hand quickly over his crotch. I could feel that he was rock hard under his jeans, but Liam pushed my hand away again.
“You don’t want me to?” I asked.
“Oh, chicken, I want you to,” he said in a husky voice. “But I’ll be able to screw you six ways to Sunday if you keep your hands off me.”
Sophia Bleu is a secret identity where I can write about fantasies and falling in love and all the smexiness in between. In real life, I’m likely catching a plane, chasing kids, or making out with the love of my life—all 6 ft 3 inches of hotness that he is. Life is pretty good.
Thanks for being on the tour! 🙂