Her fake husband is a Work In Progress…
Work in Progress, an all-new romantic comedy from Staci Hart, is available now!
I never thought my first kiss would be on my wedding day.
But here I stand, clutching a bouquet of pale pink roses behind the doors of a Las Vegas chapel, and at the end of the aisle is the absolute last man I imagined would be waiting for me.
Bestselling author. Notorious bad boy. Savagely handsome, dark as sin, chiseled as stone. And somehow, my soon-to-be husband.
Marry him, and I’ll land my dream job. Save him, and I’ll walk away with everything I’ve ever wanted. All I have to do is remember it’s all for show. None of it is real, no matter how real it feels.
But first, I have to survive the kiss.
And with lips like his, my heart doesn’t stand a chance.
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Reviewed by Anna on behalf of KFF
I have read some of this author’s books but so far this is my favourite. This contemporary romance is the perfect combination of characters that complement each other, they balance out their strength and weaknesses.
Amelia is a shy introvert book blogger who gets tongue-tied when talking to strangers. She lives and breathes in her books and the only people she interacts with are her closest friends. When she meets Tommy, she is thrust into the limelight and must learn how to cope with the fame. Maybe the pretend becomes real, she certainly hopes so.
Tommy is the bad boy of the book world, his many run-ins with the law made him too hot to handle in the publishing industry. His one last chance is Amelia and when she decides to help him out with their fake relationship, his world turns upside down, he also learns to trust and even learn how to love. But when someone betrays him will he be able to trust again?
This is a very well written book that was light-hearted at the beginning but becomes so much more than just a typical romance. Told in dual points of view, the ending may be predictable but the author writes Amelia and Tommy’s tale in such a way that makes their characters so empathetic and appealing and will make you swoon. The storyline is perfect; the character development is excellent and well paced. Having read many books in this genre I knew that there would be some drama interjected into this couple’s relationship and I find myself praying to the book gods or maybe just to the author to please don’t be too harsh on them, especially with Amelia. Although I like Amelia, Tommy’s character is my favourite. He is loyal and down to earth and because he is an author of course I expect him to be very eloquent and he didn’t disappoint.
“Faith is complete and absolute. Faith cannot be shaken. Faith believes, even when what you can see betrays what you know.”
This is a fairy tale of the twenty-first century: books, social media, fake news and heroes you can relate to. Both of the characters’ emotional growth in this story is quite poignant and remarkable and why I think this is an epic love story you shouldn’t miss out. I loved this book and would highly recommend it.
© 2019 Staci Hart
All rights reserved.
The hall bathroom door opened, consequently stopping the earth’s orbit and flinging me into space for lack of gravity.Thomas Bane stepped out of the doorway in slow motion, propelled by a cloud of steam that licked at his glistening body like it wanted to taste him. His hair was black, wet, curling and dripping in rivulets down the planes and valleys of his expansive chest and abs and narrow hips. He had that thing, the trough of muscle bracketing his hips that caught sluicing water and carried it in an angle that would eventually reach that unknown terrain beneath his towel. I saw the ghost of that terrain, the long, cylindrical bulge that was substantial enough to clearly state its presence, even through the thick towel.He smirked, dragging his hand through his wet hair. I salivated, watching droplets of water roll down his forearm and collect on the tip of his erotic elbow.“You’re up,” he said.
I blinked, not knowing when I’d set my coffee down or how many minutes—hours? years?—had passed in the time I spent ogling his body.
He sauntered into the room like he wasn’t basically naked. I tried unsuccessfully not to stare at his knees, the place where his ropy thigh connected, the angular muscles of his calves, the curve of his ankle, the broad pad of his foot.
He was perfectly proportioned. Michelangelo would have carved him twenty feet tall, and women would have worshipped at his perfect feet.
Gus bounced when he saw Tommy, his toys forgotten. And when Gus took off running, Tommy stopped, eyes widening and hands splayed in front of him.
“Gus, no,” he commanded.
To no one’s surprise, Gus did not listen. He barked once, snagged the hem of Tommy’s towel, and whipped it off him in a single tug that exposed every inch of skin on Thomas Bane’s ridiculous body.
Thank God my coffee was already on the counter. I’d have gotten third-degree burns.
For a split second, Tommy was frozen there in all his natural glory, poised to run after his dog, his face drawn and eyes locked on the sweet, disobedient dog. He wasn’t paying any attention to me.
I, however, gave him my full and undivided consideration.
His thighs were a mass of muscle so hard and defined, the tops were planes that came to a notch at his knee and a point where it met his hip. My eyes caught that trough that had before disappeared and followed it where it pointed—straight to the thatch of dark hair and the member nestled there.
The very thick, very long, mostly limp member.
If I stared at it a second longer, I was going to faint—my vision was already dim, my pulse pumping so hard, I could feel it in my neck, at the back of which a cold sweat had broken.
But he shifted to run after Gus, who was galloping away, trailing the towel behind him.
“Dammit, Gus! Gimme that!”
Then it was the back of him I saw, his hair, the streaming water rolling down all the curves of his shoulders, his back, the valley of his spine, and down to the most perfect ass I’d ever seen in real life.
Well, the only ass I’d ever seen in real life that wasn’t my own, and even that I couldn’t get a good look at without a mirror.
Seriously, that ass. That perfectly sculpted ass, round and tight and curved in the sides, shifting from one side to the other as he ran after the damn dog. My gaze caught a tattoo on one ass cheek, and I squinted at it, trying to make it out.
Tommy bent to snag the end of the towel—I caught sight of his sack and almost dissolved through the floor in an acidic puddle of embarrassment—but when he pulled, Gus spun around, ass in the air and tail wagging as he growled, pulling back.
A string of obscenities left Tommy’s mouth, but I was still gaping and staring at his ass. I realized that I was laughing. It sounded like someone else in a different room.
I wondered absently if this was how it felt to have a stroke.
About the Author
Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life — a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom, with three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey.
From roots in Houston to a seven year stint in Southern California, Staci and her family ended up settling somewhere in between and equally north, in Denver. They are new enough that snow is still magical. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, sleeping, gaming, or designing graphics.
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