Shopping for a CEO
(Shopping for a
Billionaire series Book 7)
by Julia Kent
Blurb:
I’m thrilled to be the maid
of honor in my friend’s wedding, but the best man, Andrew McCormick, is a
chauvinistic pig with a God complex.
And I can’t stop kissing
him in closets.
(Don’t ask.)
He’s the brother of the
groom and the CEO of my biggest mystery shopping account, but suddenly he’s
refusing to be in the wedding. He won’t talk about it. Won’t see reason.
He’s such a man.
And he still won’t stop
kissing me in random closets.
(Thank goodness.)
I’m a fixer. That’s what I
do. I can fix anything if given the chance. But when the game is fixed there’s
only so much I can do.
The ball’s in his court
now.
Game on.
* * *
Shopping for a CEO is the
7th book in the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Shopping series. When
CEO Andrew McCormick and mystery shopper Amanda Warrick find themselves in the
unlikely position as maid of honor and best man in the Boston society wedding
of the year, an undeniable attraction and dual stubborn streaks add fuel to the
fire in this romantic comedy from Julia Kent.
Buy links:
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1MyMNVv
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1HDYXsO
iBooks: http://apple.co/1BTcs5l
Amazon Canada: http://amzn.to/1IaHf5I
Print: http://amzn.to/1M1Zc3W
BN: http://bit.ly/1fR0CV9
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1OkyPaX
Google Play: http://bit.ly/1J5zEV6
iBooks: http://apple.co/1BTcs5l
Amazon Canada: http://amzn.to/1IaHf5I
Print: http://amzn.to/1M1Zc3W
BN: http://bit.ly/1fR0CV9
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1OkyPaX
Google Play: http://bit.ly/1J5zEV6
~ * ~
Excerpt:
“Why did you kiss me the first time? That day when I barged into
your office?”
He nods, eyes looking at everything and nothing, finally settling on
my face. “Because you were so passionate about protecting Shannon. Because you
were adorable and irate and you had this energy I wanted to taste.”
I’m holding my breath. I thought we would spend this first date
doing the awkward getting-to-know you dance. Andrew’s gone right to the point.
Laser focus.
Just like a CEO.
“Taste?”
“Yes. I know what I want. I don’t equivocate. I decide and act. I
compartmentalize. I issue orders and execute strategy. You came in that day and
started ordering me around and it was cute and exciting and inspiring. Oddly
sensual. And when you kissed me -- ”
“_You_ kissed _me_!”
“And when _we_ kissed,” he says, eyebrows raised, as if settling
this point once and for all, “I got something far more forbidden than I
realized I was getting when I went for that simple taste of you.”
Forbidden?
“What’s that?”
He studies me, as if sizing me up, trying to determine whether he
should tell me what’s next. Or not. Finally, his face changes through a series
of three or four emotions, most of them involving some variation of deliberation.
And then:
“You didn’t fit in a box.”
“I fit in a closet.”
He doesn’t laugh.
“You intrigued me.”
“Not enough to call me after that kiss, though.”
He shakes his head. My heart plummets.
“No, Amanda. The opposite. You intrigued me too much.”
I get the sense that the word ‘intrigued’ means something else.
“You mean I scared you.”
His eyes flash with emotion I can’t read.
“Yes.”
Men like Andrew McCormick don’t do this. They don’t lay their
emotions out on the table like this. Why is he doing this?
“Then why did you kiss me again? And again. And again again -- ”
“I don’t know.”
“C’mon.” The driver takes us onto the Mass Pike, lights flying by
like spaceships. Like little orbs shooting past us, filled with people
oblivious to the quantum shift taking place inside this tiny space. “You always
know. You’re a CEO. You compartmentalize. You execute. You decide. You act. You
can’t tell me that the great wunderkind Andrew Mc --”
He’s on me before I can take an inbreath to continue speaking, his
body so big and bold, so impulsive and unrelenting. The limo becomes its own
dimension, his hands seeking to hold all of me as we tumble into some new plane
of awareness that doesn’t factor into any life we’ve known until this moment.
His mouth finds mine, hands under my suit jacket, palm cupping the lines of my
breasts, my waist, my hips, and he’s tasting me again, this time with an urgent
need that comes from an honesty I don’t think he’s felt permission to express
in a very long time.
If ever.
~ * ~
Author bio:
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes
romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary
boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual,
goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.
She loves to hear from her
readers by email at jkentauthor@gmail.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, and on
Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor . Visit her website at
JKentAuthor.com.
Web/social media links:
Website: http://www.jkentauthor.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jkentauthor
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/jkentauthor
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