DATING THE ENEMY by Nicole Williams is LIVE!

Today KFF are delighted to share Nicole Williams’ all-new enemies-to-lovers romance, DATING THE ENEMY

 

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Ms. Romance, Hannah Arden, writes one of the top read relationship advice columns in the nation. Mr. Reality, Brooks North, writes the top read relationship advice column. Ms. Romance believes in true love and soul mates. Mr. Reality believes love is a term humanity has assigned to the primal instinct to procreate. She believes in fate—he in chance. She knows there’s one right person for everyone—he knows there are multiple ones. The two writers couldn’t be more polarized on relationships. They’re professional rivals, and philosophical antagonists.

For eight years, their battles have been fought with words and ink. That changes when they apply for the same position at the World Times and find themselves face-to-face for the first time. Brooks isn’t the sour-faced, antiquity of a man Hannah pictured. And Hannah isn’t exactly the middle-aged shrew with cat hair on her housedress that Brooks imagined either.

In lieu of competing for the promotion traditional ways, the two writers are presented with playing the leading roles in a social experiment unlike any before. Can a person be tricked into falling in love? Can a relationship be crafted under the right string of circumstances? Hannah knows the answer. So does Brooks.

Agreeing to the terms, the two set out on a three-month dating experiment, live-streamed for the world to watch. All Hannah has to do to win is not fall in love with the narcissistic brute. All Brooks has to do is get the starry-eyed dreamer to fall in love with him. Both are so confident in their philosophies, they expect the challenge to be easy.

With the world watching, Brooks and Hannah will be forced to confront their beliefs and conclude, once and for all, who’s right. The answer is one neither of them saw coming.

 

 

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EXCERPT 

© 2018 Nicole Williams
All rights reserved. 

 

 
“So?” His head lowered toward mine. “Have you fallen in love with me yet?”
A single-noted laugh escaped from me. “No. Sorry to burst your bubble.”
“You know it’s only a matter of time.”
“Before our three months are up and, lo and behold, I haven’t fallen madly in love with you?” I said. “Yeah, I know that.”
He held out my glass of cider, scooting closer. “Am I really that offensive?”
“Taken as a whole, no, you’re not. But taking this whole set-up into account, along with your beliefs that love is for weak-minded ninnies, then yes. You really are so offensive.”
A half smile emerged. “What do your readers think about this whole thing?”
“My readers definitely don’t want me falling for you,” I answered.
“But your readers love romance, and some handsome, roguish fellow taking your hand in a park while you’re dressed in a white dress is the definition of romance.” Right then, Brooks’s hand covered mine where it was resting on the blanket.
Instead of stiffening or whipping away, I found myself relaxing under his touch. The camera’s presence screamed at me from the corner of my eye.
“My readers believe in finding the one.” My hand slipped from beneath his. “Not the one who takes your hand and pretends to like you so he gets the promotion.”
“Who says I couldn’t be your one?”
I laughed. “Even I don’t need to run the numbers to know that has about a one-in-an-impossible chance of happening.”
Brooks slid his glasses onto his head, his eyes unapologetic in their stare. “You and me? You couldn’t see it?”
“Not even a little.” I had to look away. “When it’s right, you know it. You feel it.”
Brooks’s head shook before he took a drink of his cider. “I admit, it’s a nice idea. But don’t you feel it inside? The realization that it’s just not true?” He stared out at the park and the people in it.
I gazed with him, trying to ignore that pit opening up in my stomach. “I’d rather spend my life chasing a dream than swallowing a cruel reality.”
“You’d rather spend your life lying to yourself than being honest?” Brooks asked.
“I don’t think any of what I believe is a lie. Soul mates, unconditional love, happy endings—it’s all real.”
“Fairy tales,” he muttered under his breath. “So explain why a marriage dissolves after twenty years because of fifteen minutes of indiscretion.”
Reaching for my glass, I answered, “It wouldn’t have if he kept it in his pants.”
He blew out a sharp breath. “No, that’s like saying twenty years, our kids, our house, our finances, everything is worth less than that fifteen minutes of fucking.” His arms threw out, his tone rather impassioned. “That’s not unconditional love. That’s the very conditional kind.”
“You’re right. It is the conditional kind. On the part of the one who engaged in the fifteen minutes of extra marital . . .” I just caught the cameraman’s hands flailing before I said, “Screwing. That was one-sided unconditional love, and that never works in a relationship.”
One of his brows rose. “That’s a convenient explanation. But I’ll stick to my beliefs that all of that unconditional love junk is worth its weight in bullshit.”
I shot the cameraman an apologetic look—so much for keeping this date in the PG realm. “Then how do you explain the couples it has worked for? The ones who live a long, happy, committed relationship together.”
“I call it a case of two determined people willing to overlook each other’s weaknesses and not be hell-bent on changing or fixing the other, who’ve figured out a way to laugh at themselves, forgive easily—not to mention often—perfect the fine balance of selflessness and selfish, and on top of that, won the relationship lottery.” Brooks clinked his glass against mine before finishing what was left of his cider. “That’s how I explain that.”
I blinked at him. “Wow. Don’t hold back or anything.”
“That’s just half of it.”

 

 
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Nicole Williams is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of contemporary and young adult romance, including the Crash and Lost & Found series. Her books have been published by HarperTeen and Simon & Schuster in both domestic and foreign markets, while she continues to self-publish additional titles. She is working on a new YA series with Crown Books (a division of Random House) as well. She loves romance, from the sweet to the steamy, and writes stories about characters in search of their happily even after. She grew up surrounded by books and plans on writing until the day she dies, even if it’s just for her own personal enjoyment. She still buys paperbacks because she’s all nostalgic like that, but her kindle never goes neglected for too long. When not writing, she spends her time with her husband and daughter, and whatever time’s left over she’s forced to fit too many hobbies into too little time.Nicole is represented by Jane Dystel, of Dystel and Goderich Literary Agency.

 

 

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GYM JUNKIE by T L Swan is LIVE!

Title: Gym Junkie

Author: T L Swan

Genre: Red Hot Contemporary Romance

Cover Design: Hang Le

Photo: Michael Stokes

Release Date: September 23, 2018

ADD TO GOODREADS

 

BLURB

We’ve all done it, salivated
Over a guy at the gym, imagined the unimaginable.
Wanted what we can’t have.

Only my fantasy has turned into an obsession.
Every night like clockwork he’s there.
Every night like clockwork I’m ready.

I’m not the kind of girl who does this kind of thing and
he’s exactly the kind of man that does.

He’s as sexy AF.
Dominant as all hell.
Built like a machine.

And when he turns up at my work

My worst f**king nightmare.

 

GYM JUNKIE IS LIVE AND ONLY ~$0.99!

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EXCERPT

© 2018 T L Swan
All rights reserved. 

I swipe my key through the door scanner. It’s 9:35 p.m and I’m late. After not wanting to come at all, and deliberating the whole thing for over an hour in the shower, I’m finally here.
I’m not really sure why, but what the hell. It can’t hurt, I suppose.
I walk into the gym and take a look around. There are a few guys working out at the back, plus a girl on the treadmill.
Great. He’s not even here.
All that over-analysing for nothing
Damn it.
After making my way onto the treadmill I start walking. I turn up the speed and begin to walk faster. I suppose I’ll have to actually work out then. What an anticlimax. I spent over an hour psyching myself up to be here, and he doesn’t even show up.
Fucking typical.
All men piss me off.
Oh well, it’s his loss.
Turning up the speed, I begin to jog, getting lost in the repetition. But when I look up into the mirror, I see him. There he is. He’s sitting on the weights bench in the corner, and flashing a slow sexy smile my way. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and navy sports shorts.
My stomach dances with excitement. I force him a smile, and then I look down, pretending to be uninterested.
God, he’s so….
He’s probably just a prop in this place. That’s what I would do if I owned a gym: pay gorgeous guys to hang out and make the girls swoon. It makes good business sense, that’s for sure.
I run for fifteen minutes, and he does weights as he watches me. To be honest, I wish he would look away because I’m dying over here. I can’t run for this long naturally. I’m totally showing off. I may go ass over tit at any moment and skin my knee to the bone.
One man finally leaves the gym, and then five minutes later the other one follows. The group of guys walk out the back, leaving only one woman in the gym who is doing sit ups. His eyes trail over to her, and I wonder is he thinking the same thing as me.
Buzz off, woman. Why are you in the gym so late, stupid?
I stop running and bring the treadmill back to a walking pace. I wipe my face with my towel, grateful when the lady packs up her things and leaves through the front door.
Brock’s eyes find mine in the mirror and a dark smile crosses his face.
Shit. My heart begins to beat faster. I keep walking, and he stands to make his way over to me.
“Hello,” he purrs.
I smile goofily. “Hi.” Why does he have to be so damn sexy? I can’t even pretend to be cool.
He puts his hand over mine on the handrail, and I feel an energy zap between us.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he says.
My eyes hold his as my stomach flips. “Y-you have?” I pant.
He nods slowly, his eyes not leaving mine for a single second.
“What were you thinking about?” I ask.
“I was thinking that I need to talk to you in private.”
God, is he for real? “Is that so?” I look around the empty gym. “Is that why you had to wait for everyone to leave to come and talk to me?”
“Well, I didn’t want anyone to be suspicious of the two of us talking the other night in the bathroom.”
“Talking?” I smirk. “Is that what you call it?”
He smiles sexily, and my stomach clenches yet again. Don’t smile at me like that.
“Yes.” He pauses as he rolls his lips, as if amused. “It was a very stimulating conversation.”
I smile as I continue to walk.
“For some more than others,” he adds.
Unable to help it, I laugh. “Yes, it was a very stimulating conversation that we had the other night.”
His eyes hold mine. “Did you enjoy it?”
What’s it going to be? I get a vision of Simon last night with that girl.
Sink or swim.
“I did.” Our eyes are locked. “Very much, actually.”
Oh, this guy makes me want to be a dirty whore.
Satisfaction flashes across his face and he licks his lips. He runs his hand up my forearm, his eyes following his touch. “I have something else to tell you.”
I act surprised. “You do?”
“I do.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you here, Pocket.” His eyes rise to my lips.
“Why not?” I feel the burn of his gaze.
“It’s private.”
He takes his hand off my arm, and it causes me to frown. I hate the loss of his touch. “So, where do you want to tell me this private information?” I ask as I play along.
“We should probably talk where we talked last time.” He rolls his lips to hide his smile, he likes this game.
“Really?” I widen my eyes.
He nods slowly. “Really.”
I continue to walk on the treadmill.
“So, I’m going to go into the discussion room now.”
“The discussion room?” I widen my eyes and laugh. “You are something else.”
“I know,” he chuckles, and then gestures up to the ceiling. I look up, following his direction.
There’s a camera…
Shit.
“I’m going to go into the discussion room, and in five minutes, you should do the same.”
“But, they’ll see us?” I whisper.
“No, they won’t. Once you come into the bathroom, you just have to stay in there for five minutes. If we don’t enter or leave together, the tapes won’t be looked at. Not unless there is an incident and they have to be watched back.
“Oh.” I frown, and without another word he disappears up the hall with his gym bag. I walk for another five minutes with my heart beating out of control. This is so naughty, so freaking hot, and I have to say, so out of character for me that it’s not even funny.
I’ll just go and talk to him—see what he has to say. I hope he kisses me again. His kiss was to die for. Who the heck is this guy, anyway?
I would never do this. I am not the sort of girl who meets up with guys in a public bathroom. My eyes flicker to the hallway as my excitement runs through me.
Am I?
I hit stop on the treadmill with my heart hammering in my chest. I take my towel and drink bottle, and then I walk up the hall to the bathrooms. I look up and see the camera at the end of the hall positioned so it shows all of the five bathroom doors clearly. I drop my head to hide my face.
As long as I don’t walk back out, he said I’m fine.
God, if anyone ever knew I was doing this, I’d die.
I walk to the end door and take the handle in my hand. I pause for a moment and close my eyes. My heart is banging, and I look back up the hall one more time. Should I go? No. Just do it.
I open the door and rush in, quickly closing the door behind me. I flick the lock and turn around.
The room is filled with steam and the shower screen is open. Brock is naked in the shower when he turns to face me.
His large shoulders and chest have soap over them, and his hair is already wet. His stomach is rippled with muscles, and his huge hard cock hangs heavily between his legs.
He smiles sexily. “Took your time, Pocket.”
Oh, dear God. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“Brock!” I frown as I stare at him. “What the hell are you doing?”
I glance back to the door, damn it. I can’t leave for a few minutes.
He looks at me casually and rubs the soap in across his chest. “Taking a shower, what does it look like?”
“You’re incredible.” I shake my head in disgust. “I’m leaving right now.”
“Why?” He gives me a slow sexy smile and holds his hands out to the side. “Taking a shower is a perfectly natural thing. I wanted to be clean for our conversation.”
Bastard.
“You want to have a conversation with me with,” I gesture to his groin, “with your dick hanging out.”
He looks down at himself, and then back up at me. “Does my dick offend you?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Your dick offends me.”
I glance down again. That is the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen. Okay, sure, I haven’t seen many, but I’m still sure it’s the most perfect one there is. For fuck’s sake, this guy is so over confident, I don’t even have words to describe him, and why the hell is it turning me on?
This is un-fucking-believable. How on earth did I get myself into this situation?
Brock continues to rub soap over his chest, eventually lathering his groin area up, too. I have to concentrate on not looking down again.
“Why?” he asks.
I frown. “Because… because…” I look around as I search for the right choice of words. “It’s the assumption you make that I am comfortable with you being naked when I’m not.” I shake my head and throw my hands in the air. “I’m so not.”
“If it makes you feel more comfortable, I am completely fine with you taking your clothes off, too.” He shrugs casually. “You know, for our discussion.”
I smirk. Of all the hide. “You’re an idiot.”
He smiles that sexy smile again, and I feel my insides begin to melt. “I prefer to think I’m just honest.”
“How is this being honest?”
“Well.” He pauses as a moment as he soaps his groin up again.
“Will you stop doing that!” I snap. “It’s very distracting.” I concentrate hard on keeping my eyes focused on his face.
“Big dicks don’t lie,” he says, raising his brow.
I stare at him, completely lost for words, even though I really want to howl with laughter. “You did not just say that?”


AUTHOR BIO

Lover of her husband, children, words, chocolate and margaritas.
When she is not writing her next novel, you will find her in a café drinking coffee with friends.
Writing is her passion.

Books by T L Swan

Stanton Adore
Stanton Unconditional
Stanton Completely
Stanton Bliss
Find Me Alastar
Play Along
Dr. Stanton
Dr. Stantons The Epilogue
Marx Girl
Mr. Masters

AUTHOR LINKS

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