Book: Love Hacked
Series: Knitting in the City #3
Author: Penny Reid
Love Hacked (coming March 2014):
Can be read as a standalone, is a full length 90k word novel, and is book#3 in the Knitting in the City Series.
There are three things you need to know about Sandra Fielding:
1) She makes all her first dates cry,
2) She hasn’t been kissed in over two years, and
3) She knows how to knit.
Sandra has difficulty removing her psychotherapist hat. Of her last 30 dates, 29 have ended the same way: the man sobbing uncontrollably. After one such disaster, Sandra–near desperation and maybe a little tipsy–gives in to a seemingly harmless encounter with her hot waiter, Alex. Argumentative, secretive, and hostile Alex may be the opposite of everything Sandra knows is right for her. But now, the girl who has spent all her life helping others change for the better, must find a way to cope with falling for someone who refuses to change at all.
Amazon (US): http://www.amazon.com/Love-Hacked-reluctant-romance-Knitting-ebook/dp/B00IS98B24/ref=pd_sim_kstore_2?ie=UTF8&refRID=1ECYM3S6ZNFAKNWD04B9
Amazon (UK): http://www.amazon.co.uk/Love-Hacked-Reluctant-Romance-Knitting/dp/0989281043/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1394468416&sr=8-1&keywords=love+hacked
B&N Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-hacked-penny-reid/1118864389?ean=2940149506149
[He was bald in a way that made me think of both melons and sex.]
[Alex the waiter was on my Spank Naughty list in third place, right after Henry Cavill the actor, then Henry Cavill as Superman.]
[He didn’t hear my comment. No one did. Or, if they did, they made no outward show. Which means they didn’t hear me because, as intoxicated as they were, at least one of them would have repeated it loudly and made lewd hand gestures.]
[I was looking forward to slamping it up. In fact, I was counting on it. Embrace your inner slamp!]
[“They never look nice, it’s basically impossible. You can’t dress them up, and I’ve seen a lot of balls in the ER. I’ve never seen a man’s balls and thought to myself, Now that guy has a great set of testicles.”]
[“You are woman. You are lovely in every way—inside and out. But he will always have ugly balls and there is nothing he can do about it.”]
[I love you like MC Hammer loves Gestalt Theory.]
[And why did men insist on buying the largest size? Didn’t they understand the concept of sizes? Did they think buying a magnum sized condom was going to fool me into thinking their Toyota Camery was an aircraft carrier?]
[I was swimming in my conflicting contemplations when, upon attempting to exit the bathroom, my progress was wholly impinged and impugned.
He stopped me. Meaning, he put his arm out, barred my way forward as though he’d been lying in wait. His eyes bounced between mine before finally settling on my mouth with completely unapologetic brashness.
He smiled, slow and a little wicked. He leaned a fraction of an inch closer—which, by a percentage of the distance separating us, was quite a lot. “Did you enjoy your butter chicken?”
“Yes. Did you enjoy serving me?”
His gaze flickered to mine, held. He had the most unusual eyes. Dark, dark blue—like cobalt—with black and gold specs radiating from the pupil at the center. “Serving you is always a pleasure.”
Of course, his voice and words sent an enchanting shivering awareness down my spine and to my nerve endings. Unaccountably, all my previous concerns evaporated and I was left only with a single thought.
I returned his smile, hoped mine rivaled his for wickedness. “Glad to hear it.”
“So, Sandra…” he hovered, dipped his chin so that I had to lift mine to maintain eye contact. If I took a deep breath our chests would probably touch. “You owe me one, right?”
I nodded, knew that my outward appearance of nonchalance was the complete opposite of the building apprehension and excitement twisting in my middle. “That’s right. At this point, after what you did for Marie, I might even owe you two ones.”
He shook his head, looked momentarily thoughtful. “No, I don’t think so. Your friend Fiona seemed to be perfectly capable of handling the situation. What’s her story anyway? What does she do?”
“She’s a former engineer for the State Department. Now she’s a stay at home mom.”
His face darkened, his eyes lost focus for a split second as though he were absorbing this information. “The State Department, huh?”
“No reason. Anyway…” his eyes ignited again as they moved over my face. “You owe me one.”
“Yes, as you’ve stated previously.”
“A big one—that’s what you said?” His eyes were steady, unflinching. It should have been unnerving. Instead, I found it strangely adorable—like he didn’t know any better.
“Yes. I believe those were the words I used.”
“What time will you be done with your friends?”
“Now, actually. I need you to bring our check.”
“d. The restaurant closes at ten tonight. Can you be back here by nine fifty-five?”
I studied him; my head fell backwards a bit, my eyes narrowing into surveillance slits. “I’m confused.”
“Yes. Your behavior is confusing.”
An eyebrow arched above overtly nerdy glasses. “How so?”
“You run hot and cold. You sit with me on Friday, are confrontational, and it’s clear you have a genuine dislike of psychiatrists-”
“You’re right, I do dislike psychiatrists.”
“-then you kiss me-”
“You kissed me first.”
“-but you offered first. And then you walked away.” I paused, allowed my statements to marinate for a few seconds, then added. “But tonight you’re very solicitous and are flashing the sexy eyes again.”
He didn’t respond immediately and I was somewhat surprised to find an expression of obvious admiration warm his gaze as it moved over my face. Finally, he said, “I do dislike psychiatrists, usually.”
He ignored the question. “But, I like you.”
He ignored that question too. “And I’d like to apologize for sending mixed signals. Will you come tonight?”
My lips twisted to the side. I wasn’t yet satisfied. “First, answer me this: why did you decide to sit down with me on Friday? I’ve been coming in here for over two years. If you like me, despite my unfortunate profession, why’d you wait so long?”
He didn’t hesitate in his response. “It was the dress.”
My eyebrows jumped. “The dress?”
“Yeah. The red dress. I was compelled to act. I had no choice.” His nod was gentle, but his barely-there grin was wicked. It did things to me.]
Knitting in the City Series
About the Author
SEX! It all started with sex, between my parents. Personally I don’t like thinking about it, but whatever works for you is a-ok with me. No judgment. The sex happened in California and much of my life also occurred in that state until I moved from the land of nuts (almonds), wine, silicon… boobs, and heavy traffic to the southeast US. Like most writers I like to write, but let’s get back to sex. Eventually I married and gave birth to 2 small people-children (boy-6, girl-4 as of this writing).
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