Release
Date: 09/28/15
Entangled
Embrace
Summary from Goodreads
A
new adult romance from Entangled's Embrace imprint...
Sometimes
all a girl needs is a little practice...
It's
been twelve months, three days, and eleven hours since accounting student
Scarlett Logan made it past a second date. A pitcher of mojitos in hand, she
employs her supreme graphing skills to narrow things down to one horrifying
explanation. Kissing. Clearly someone needs to teach her how to kiss properly.
Like, say, her best friend and roomie, Finn Mackenzie. He's safe, he's
convenient, and yeah, maybe just a little gorgeous.
Finn
knows exactly why Scarlett's boyfriends are disappearing quickly. Him. Not a
single guy she's brought home is nearly good enough. And he'll be damned if he
lets some loser give her "kissing lessons." No. He'll do the honors,
thank you very much. The moment their lips touch, though, everything turns
upside down. But Scarlett deserves the one thing Finn can't give her. And if he
doesn't put an end to the sexy little shenanigans, he'll teach Scarlett the
hardest lesson of all...heartbreak.
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Excerpt
“I
haven’t forgotten we kissed, obviously, but I can’t remember details, like what
the most effective elements were.”
I
shifted in my seat. Every second of that kiss was burned into my memory bank.
It seemed that hadn’t been as mutual as I’d suspected. I blew out a breath and
focused on being a teacher in the situation, not a man who’d been carried away
with his own lesson.
“I
think you’re over-analyzing this. The elements don’t matter on their own. It’s
more about the big picture.”
“Would
you say that to your undergrads? Don’t worry about the specifics of the
aqueducts, or which emperor came to power in what year. It’s more about the big
picture of knowing there was a Roman Empire?”
“Well,
no, but it’s completely different,” I said, looking down the hall and wondering
if I could escape the conversation by simply leaving.
“How?”
she persisted. “In both cases, you’re teaching something. So the student needs
the topic broken down into bite-size pieces.”
At
the word “bite” all the air left the room. Scarlett must have interpreted my
silence to be disbelief because she grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper.
“Here.”
She smoothed it out on the coffee table in front of us. “I’ll graph it for
you.”
That
snapped me back. “You’re going to graph our kiss?”
She
drew an X and Y axis, then a line that went up across the
page, but not smoothly—there were spikes and bumps along its progress.
“So,
here, for example”—she pointed to a sharp rise in the line—“you did something
and the kiss took off. What was it?”
“Seriously?”
She wanted to talk as if it had been a clinical experience?
“If
this had been a kiss for kissing’s sake, then, sure, we could leave it alone.
But it was a lesson. How am I supposed to learn if I don’t remember the
stimulus that caused the response?”
“You
don’t need to. You were great. There’s nothing more to learn.” Better than
great. Her kissing had been phenomenal.
“Again,
if an undergrad wanted to learn more about the Roman Empire than they needed to
for the first-year exam, would you tell them they were fine, or would you point
them to more resource material?”
I
blinked. “I’m resource material?”
She
threw her hands up in the air, as if she was the one who was exasperated.
“You’re the one who offered the lesson in the first place, so yes. You are my
resource material on kissing.”
I
looked over at the array of empty beer bottles on the coffee table. “We really
need to make it a rule that we don’t talk about kissing after we’ve been
drinking.”
“You’d
rather have this conversation stone-cold sober?”
“I’d
rather not have this conversation at all.”
“Oh.”
Her face fell.
“What?”
I asked warily.
“It’s
just occurred to me that although I thought the kiss was good, you might not
have enjoyed it at all. That’s why you’re fighting so hard against a follow up
lesson.” She scrunched up her nose. “It was awful for you.”
I
rubbed my temples—I was getting a headache trying to keep up with her thought
processes and keep us out of dangerous territory.
“It
wasn’t awful.” Amazing would be closer.
“Then
why are you so against a follow-up lesson so I can focus on the bits I’ve
forgotten?”
Something
in the way she said “forgotten” made everything inside me rear up and protest.
Maybe it was vanity, maybe it was neediness, but whatever it was, I didn’t want
to be considered a forgettable kisser. Especially by Scarlett.
My
gaze zeroed in on her mouth as I wrapped an arm around her and tugged her
closer, but not quite touching. Her eyes widened and her pink tongue darted out
to moisten her lips. I groaned.
“See
if you can forget this,” I said, and lowered my head.
About the Author
As a
teenager, I was a voracious reader of science fiction, until one day when I was
16, I saw Pride and Prejudice on television. The old version with Laurence
Olivier and Greer Garson. I adored it. I’d seen it in the TV guide and, since I
had a crush on Laurence Olivier after seeing him in Henry V, I’d taped it.
I
watched that tape so often I can still recite most of the dialogue by heart. I
sought out the book, devoured it, then found every other Jane Austen book and
read and reread them frequently. I only discovered romance as a genre as an
adult. Imagine my delight when I first read modern versions of Jane Austen!
Now
I read most subgenres of romance, from category to historical to romantic
comedy. Such a banquet!
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