SYNOPSIS
Naomi Porter was once witty, fun, and outgoing, but she has scratched outgoing off the list, along with men. She has a mediocre tech job in fabulous New York, a large smut book collection, and awesome friends, both tangible and in an online gaming community. She just doesn’t date. A future filled with cats and housedresses beats having her heart broken again.
But Naomi still likes men, even kind of stalks—mostly fantasizes about—a gorgeous one at work during lunch.
Her best friend, Kara, is determined that Naomi will be outgoing again. When Kara finds out who, as in a notorious playboy, Naomi is stalking at lunch, she plans to break Naomi of her lunchtime habit and bring her back into the real world. It’s just going to take a bit of deception.
Between all the deceiving, fangirling, and bumbling, Naomi might not be able to resist the temptation of turning her seven-month fantasy into reality. And really, so what if he’s a playboy or a demanding jerk? Her fantasies don’t include love or even like, just a bed or a couch or the back seat of a limo…
Reality might be just what she needs.
*A sexy romantic comedy intended for audiences 18+
ADD TO GOODREADS - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22310783-the-reality-of-you
BUY LINKS
(COMING SOON)
~Meet Naomi Porter ~
- They each had some kind of jackass drink: dry martini, cosmopolitan, Manhattan, Caipirini, and one neat, overpriced single malt scotch. Except for me. I drank beer. American beer. From the tap, thank you very much.
-Whoa. Wow. Whoa. Between his gaze and his words, I imagined jumping on his lap and experiencing some of that.
- What was better than fried tortillas? Nothing. Well, except Doritos. But they were fried tortillas with cheese-flavored dusting.
-Could sharks jump out of the water? The ocean lay more than a hundred feet away. I wanted a shark to swallow me whole and drag me to the deep, salty depths of the sea after that ramble.
- But he is also hot, delicious, and the star of my day and night dreams.
-I didn’t cook. I constructed dips.
-I wanted to grab a toothpick and stuff it up my roommate’s nose. Two toothpicks to be precise, one for each nostril.
- Seriously, I never imagined being a tux girl, but holy hot hell, I could dry hump his suit. Preferably with him in it, but…
-You can never, ever, go wrong with bacon.
- I was going to faint. Or let out a whoop. Or tackle him. And it wasn’t just because he was removing his pants.
- They each had some kind of jackass drink: dry martini, cosmopolitan, Manhattan, Caipirini, and one neat, overpriced single malt scotch. Except for me. I drank beer. American beer. From the tap, thank you very much.
-Whoa. Wow. Whoa. Between his gaze and his words, I imagined jumping on his lap and experiencing some of that.
- What was better than fried tortillas? Nothing. Well, except Doritos. But they were fried tortillas with cheese-flavored dusting.
-Could sharks jump out of the water? The ocean lay more than a hundred feet away. I wanted a shark to swallow me whole and drag me to the deep, salty depths of the sea after that ramble.
- But he is also hot, delicious, and the star of my day and night dreams.
-I didn’t cook. I constructed dips.
-I wanted to grab a toothpick and stuff it up my roommate’s nose. Two toothpicks to be precise, one for each nostril.
- Seriously, I never imagined being a tux girl, but holy hot hell, I could dry hump his suit. Preferably with him in it, but…
-You can never, ever, go wrong with bacon.
- I was going to faint. Or let out a whoop. Or tackle him. And it wasn’t just because he was removing his pants.
“Keep an open mind. First impressions aren’t always correct,” she said from behind me as we strode down the hall.
“I’m not expecting Prince Charming but those three are wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am all the way. Is a little interest, a little romance, a first date with a toe-curling kiss too much to ask for?” I inquired over my shoulder.
“Maybe you need a wham-bam to get back into business. Like get it over, then move on to the romance and the toe-curling kisses.”
“Harrumph,” escaped me before we came out of the hallway and into the main bar. Three steps into the room, I stopped dead in my tracks. I became a deer in headlights when I noticed a person sitting sideways at the bar. Dark brown hair. Square jaw. Dark winged brows. Sensual lips with a rocks glass pressed to them. I gaped as he tipped the glass higher and amber liquid touched his lips.
Kara ran into my shoulder. “What the hell?” she asked, rubbing her jaw and stepping next to me. “Don’t pull this again. It’s only one more drink.”
“It’s him,” I somehow said, though still in shock. “My lunch guy.”
“Him? What are you talking—” She followed my frozen gawk. “Holy shit, Naomi! He’s the guy you watch at lunch? That’s not a bike—that’s a luxury car! Like an Aston Martin!” Kara had a thing for luxury cars. And shoes. And clothes. And purses.
I nodded as the woman next to him gave him a sultry stare. Jealousy flared within in me. Hopefully the daydream kind, but yeah, he was an Aston Martin compared to the three ten speeds waiting in the other room.
Kara smacked her forehead. “I should have known. Why didn’t my stupid ass put two and two together when you described him? You know who he is, right?”
Locked on him, my eyes turned huge. “What? No.”
“He’s—”
“Aggggg, not listening to Kara.” I covered my ears. “Don’t tell me.” Sure, I stalked him at lunch, but I didn’t want the possibility of becoming a full-time stalker. More than that, I didn’t want my lunchtime lustful fantasies ruined by reality. I was more than aware of it being a fantasy. I liked it as a fantasy.
I write young adult and romance novels. I read a lot too. I even do a bit of cooking, which is actually quite good. I also golf a lot in the summer with my awesome husband and son, but I cook way, way better than I golf.
I am Represented by Jane Dystel of Dystel & Goderich Literary Management.
SOCIAL LINKS
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jean-Haus/227196784023975
Twitter - https://twitter.com/JeanHaus
Website - http://jeanhaus.com/jeanh/
Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5403174.Jean_Haus
HOSTED BY:
No comments:
Post a Comment