We're celebrating the release of SLOW PLAY by Monica Murphy! Be sure to join in the fun!
Newly broke girl Alexandria Asher just wants to live a normal life. After her parents are sent to prison on embezzlement charges, she enrolls in college under her mother’s maiden name and tries her best to pretend she’s someone else.
Tristan Prescott is everything Alex is trying to avoid. A seemingly egotistical, lazy, rich jerk, she dumps her beer on his head when he comes on to her one night at a party. This only spurs Tristan into action. He loves nothing more than a challenge. And the beautiful Alex is exactly the type of challenge that intrigues him.
Despite her reluctance, Alex finds herself quickly involved with Tristan. Underneath that playboy exterior is a good guy, a sweet and sexy guy who she is undoubtedly falling for. What they both don’t realize is the actions of Alex’s parents are the reason for so much tragedy in Tristan’s family. And when Tristan discovers who Alex and her family really is, can he forgive and forget?
Slowly
I turn to find a tall guy standing before me, and it takes everything I have
not to roll my eyes.
Most
of the dudes at this Halloween party tonight are beyond obnoxious, either
wearing the most ridiculous costumes ever or behaving like assholes. Something
about a mask and drinking too much booze on the spookiest night of the year
brings out the worst in them.
This
guy, in his sleazy pimp costume, is no exception. And wasn’t his costume played
out already years ago? Made out of cheap crushed purple velvet trimmed in
leopard print, with wide collars and bell bottom pants, topped by a matching
purple velvet and leopard trimmed hat. He’s wearing mirrored sunglasses so I
can’t see his eyes, which makes me think he’s kind of shady. The grin on his
face is huge, in that giant, shit-eating way good looking guys smile.
Because
he so is. Good looking. He knows it too.
Oh,
and he has a cane. That he’s pointing right at me at about mid-thigh.
Like
he’s trying to lift the hem of my skirt.
I
take a step away from him and send him my most evil glare. “You look
ridiculous.”
“You
look hot as fuck.” He lowers the cane and takes a step toward me, that
confident grin he’s wearing perfectly matching his horrific costume. He looks
like a greedy pimp. Or what we regular people think a greedy pimp must look
like.
“Eloquent,”
I tell him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I ignore the little fizz of
pleasure his comment gives me. I should not like that he called me hot
as fuck. How crude. He’s a pig.
His
head tilts down and he actually reaches up to push his sunglasses down the
bridge of his nose so he can…what? Get a better look at me? He’s got a lot of
nerve. “Nice cleavage, angel.”
I
don’t have what constitutes as much cleavage yet somehow, he makes me feel
dirty for wearing a costume with a low neckline. Must be his tone of voice. Or
more likely the lecherous way he’s checking me out. Do girls really find his
behavior attractive? Granted, he’s good looking from what I can tell but his
attitude is shit.
“Do
you come by the sleazy comments naturally? Or are you powered by the costume?”
I bat my eyelashes like I’m as innocent as my halo implies I am.
He
pushes his sunglasses back up, covering suddenly thunderous blue eyes. He’d
seemed infinitely amused with himself, with the situation only a moment ago and
I’m surprised at the sudden shift. “My flirting skills are in the toilet with
this costume tonight, I swear to fucking God,” he mutters.
His
blunt honesty makes me laugh and he smiles slowly in return. “Newsflash. Girls
don’t find pimps that attractive. We’re taught from a young age to run in the
opposite direction when we spot one.”
“I’ve
discovered that.” He rubs his chin, cupping it with his thumb and index finger
and I watch those fingers move in barely contained fascination. He has nice
hands. Wide palms, long fingers…
“You
run into many pimps?”
His
deep voice breaks through my thoughts and I give a slight shake of my head.
“You’re my first.”
The
faintly leering grin is back, just like that. Inside I grow cold. He’s too
cocky for me. Too sure of himself. I’ve dealt with enough of these types to
last me a lifetime. “Well, let me introduce myself—”
New York Times, USA Today and international bestselling author Monica Murphy is a native Californian who lives in the foothills below Yosemite with her husband and three children. She's a workaholic who loves her job. When she's not busy writing, she also loves to read and travel with her family. She writes new adult and contemporary romance and is published with Bantam and Avon. She also writes romance as USA Today bestselling author Karen Erickson.
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