THANK YOU FOR HOLDING by NYT & USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent and Elisa Reed is available now! You do not want to miss this sexy and hilarious contemporary romance. Find out more and read a sneak peek below!
Having it all is a fantasy, right?
Carrie Shelton thought her boyfriend was too good to be true. Her best friend's brother? A guy who loved antiquing? Who cuddled on the couch while watching foodie YouTube clips and talking about artisanal spices? Who helped her accessorize her outfits?
Right.
Fantasy.
So when he ran off with Kevin, the owner of an antique shop, right before his sister’s wedding, Carrie’s life went from fantasy to nightmare.
As maid of honor, she can’t back out of the wedding. And her ex is the best man - but now he has his own best man.
She needs a date. Stat.
Enter Ryan. Sure, he’s a hot male stripper at the O Spa where she works as junior designer, but he’s a few years younger and just, you know -- a friend.
Perfect. She needs a friend more than she needs a boyfriend.
A weekend of playing her boyfriend so she can save face is a lot to ask, but for some reason Carrie doesn't understand, Ryan's all in. Enthusiastic, even.
Especially when it comes to physical displays of affection.
Public kisses turn to private confessions, and pretty soon, Carrie can't tell the difference between fantasy and reality.
Because if Ryan's just pretending he's in love with her, then why does the chemistry between them -- and between the sheets -- feel so real?
Carrie can't settle for almost, though. She's already done that. She's not putting her life on hold anymore.
Turns out Ryan won't, either.
He's holding out for more.
Thank You For Holding is a STANDALONE in the On Hold series. You do not need to have read book 1 in the series, Our Options Have Changed, but after reading about Carrie and Ryan’s friends-to-lovers adventure, you’ll want to. ;)
She tastes like salt and sweetness, like all the soft warmth in the world is concentrated in her lips. We’re clumsy, her lips hard against mine, wet from tears. Her hands grab my biceps, the kind of grip you have on someone you’re pissed at and hold onto because you want them to bend.
At first, I’m stunned, the ice cream pint rolling out of the plastic bag, settling on my bare foot, the cold a tingling shock that contrasts with the warmth of her mouth. God, Carrie’s mouth. My hands go up, like she has a gun pointed at me, then they land on her shoulders, one sinking into her hair, her messy bun coming loose as her lips soften and she starts to really kiss me.
I really kiss her, my mouth screaming yes, finally, holy shit, so many words my lips and tongue need to say. A kiss requires economy of language. You don’t have the luxury of words, so everything I want to say has to come from a suck, a nip, a lick, the parting of her lips as my tongue blindly seeks answers in a new language.
Those hard hands on my biceps loosen, sliding up to the back of my neck, and as Carrie moves up my body, standing on tiptoe to rise up to the kiss, my heart tries to burst in my chest, like a water balloon tossed oh, so gently.
She shivers violently, suddenly, an electric jolt between us like I’ve stuck my tongue in a light socket.
Then she pulls back, eyes wide with alarm, hot with desire that fades so fast I almost don’t even see it.
Panic floods her, followed by her chin jutting up as she says in an overconfident, fake voice, “There. See? I am not a broken vagina.”
And she bursts into tears.
I don’t know what the hell a broken vagina is, but I have a very unbroken cock tenting my pants right now. Desperate, I bend down for the ice cream and hold it right over my crotch.
“I’m sorry,” she babbles as she walks past me into my apartment, flinging herself onto the couch, burying her face in a cushion. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Oh, holy fuck, do it again.
“Done what?”
“Used you to prove that I’m not broken.”
Use me. Use me all you want, baby.
Why does that inner voice suddenly have an English accent?
“You’re not broken, Carrie,” I choke out. As Ben & Jerry’s becomes an ice pack for my dick, I stand in my kitchen, paralyzed.
What just happened?
And how can I get it to happen more?
About Julia Kent
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three sons in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down.
About Elisa Reed
Elisa Reed is a journalist-turned-fiction-writer whose snappy, irreverent prose combines with an irrepressible zest for the simpler, and often intimate, pleasures of life to produce fun(ny) contemporary romance with a focus on second chances. New England born and bred, Elisa Reed now lives, writes, and plays in New Orleans and along the sugar sands of the Gulf Coast.
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