I got the chance to read Sophie Jordan’s FOREPLAY last week and it was all sorts of awesome – fun, sexy, romantic. A perfect one-sit-read with a totally swoon-worthy protagonist – Reece is someone you’ll definitely want to meet.
So when I heard that there would be a trailer and that I could sign up to take part in its reveal I jumped at the chance. And I would have even if I weren’t such a huge fan of book trailers because this is one trailer I definitely wanted an early peek at.
And I absolutely love, love, love it. It’s totally wicked. And such a tease. But I’ll let you decide for yourself.
Also, as part of this reveal I was able to select one of the five excerpts from the author’s website to include with this post. And while I love the one where Pepper and Reece meet, I had to choose the one with the kiss.
If you have read FOREPLAY or have read this excerpt I think you’ll agree with me. It’s sweet. It’s sexy. It’s
kinda totally HOT.
A link to the author’s website with all the excerpts is just a bit further below. But if you want a chance to win some awesome prizes, be sure to check out Sophie Jordan’s giveaway, HERE.
And if you don’t want to miss any of the author’s upcoming news, you can sign up to receive her newsletter by email, HERE.
But now, without any further ado, let me present to you this totally teaser-y trailer for FOREPLAY.
Before she goes after the life she’s always wanted, she’s about to find the one she needs.
Pepper has been hopelessly in love with her best friend’s brother, Hunter, for like ever. He’s the key to everything she’s always craved: security, stability, family. But she needs Hunter to notice her as more than just a friend. Even though she’s kissed exactly one guy, she has just the plan to go from novice to rock star in the bedroom-take a few pointers from someone who knows what he’s doing.
Her college roommates have the perfect teacher in mind. But bartender Reece is nothing like the player Pepper expects. Yes, he’s beyond gorgeous, but he’s also dangerous, deep-with a troubled past. Soon what started as lessons in attraction are turning both their worlds around, and showing just what can happen when you go past foreplay and get to what’s real…
Series: The Ivy Chronicles #1
Release date: November 5, 2013
Publisher: William Morrow
Formats: Paperback, audio, eBook
The second book in The Ivy Chronicles, TEASE, is slated for release on May 27, 2014.
Walking through the parking lot, the soles of my boots crunched over the loose gravel. I almost turned back around when I remembered the burger I had wanted. Instead, I continued walking, thinking which drive-through I wanted to hit on the way back to the dorm. I was contemplating chicken strips and Tater Tots when a hand fell on my shoulder.
With a shriek, I whirled around, my fist instinctively flying, lashing out, making contact. My knuckles grazed off a shoulder.
“Whoa. Easy there.” Reece stood there, holding one hand up in the air while his other hand rubbed at the top of his shoulder where I’d struck him.
I covered my mouth with both hands. My words escaped muffled. “OhmyGod! I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I should have called out. Good reflexes. But you should work on your aim.”
My hands fell from my face slowly.
I stared at him, still trying to comprehend that he was here. In front of me. It was strange seeing him out of his element. Other than that first time, I’d only ever seen him inside Mulvaney’s. Here, outside, he seemed bigger, larger than life.
My head cocked to the side. “Are you”—I waved a finger between him and me —”following me?”
“I saw you leave.”
“So. That’s a yes.”
He was watching me? He noticed me. I wasn’t invisible after all.
He continued, “Look, you shouldn’t be out here alone at night. Guys get a few drinks in them, see a pretty girl walking by herself …” His voice faded away, his implication clear.
I only heard one thing. Pretty.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he finished.
“Thanks.” I turned in the direction of my car. He fell in step beside me.
I slid him a long look. Without the distance of the bar top between us, I was fully aware of his height. I was no tiny thing like Emerson, and the top of my head barely reached his chin. He had to be a few inches over six feet. It was a new experience—feeling delicate and petite.
“I hope you don’t get in trouble for leaving the bar. Are you on a break?”
“It’ll be fine.”
I was conscious of his arm, so close to mine as we walked. He slid one hand into his front jeans pocket.
“You’re leaving early,” he noted.
“Yeah.” Silence fell. Feeling a need to fill it, I added, “Not feeling it tonight.” At least I wasn’t before. Now I’m feeling it. I’m feeling everything. His body beside mine radiated heat. My every nerve vibrated like a plucked wire, achingly aware of him. We’re not even touching, but it’s like I felt him everywhere. It was a shock I could even talk in a steady voice.
“Not feeling it tonight,” he echoed, his voice low. There was laughter in his voice even though he didn’t come right out and laugh. He dropped his head back and looked up at the stars. A slow smiled curved his mouth.
“What’s so amusing?”
“Just thinking about that.”
He looked back down. “I can’t count the nights I’m not ‘feeling it,’ but I still have to be there.”
Have to. Interesting choice of words. “You don’t like your job?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I do.”
“Are you a student, too?”
“Did you graduate already?”
“Just high school.”
So working the bar was all there was for him. Again, there was that stab of disappointment. Which was not only judgmental of me but absurd. I wasn’t considering this guy for a boyfriend or lifelong partner material. I shouldn’t feel anything at his lack of ambition.
He continued, “You in college?”
“Let me guess. Dartford?” There were three universities in the area, but Dartford had the most prestigious reputation.
“Thought so. You’ve got “Ivy” written all over you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You look sweet and nice. Smart.” We were almost to my car when he added, “And you’re not a regular, but you’ve been here three nights in a row.” Not a question. Just a statement.
Again, that he was aware of me made me go all warm and fuzzy inside. “My friend, Emerson, comes here a lot. You’ve probably seen her before. She’s hard to miss.” He neither confirmed nor denied this. “She invited me along. I don’t do the bar scene all that much.”
“So you’ve decided to start living the college experience in full then. Is that it? Last night didn’t scare you off?”
I frowned. “Oh, you mean that guy by the bathroom. Should I have let that scare me?”
He didn’t say anything, and I thought back to his comment on Thursday night about nice girls getting eaten up in places like Mulvaney’s. “Oh. That’s right. Nice girls like me should stay home.”
“I didn’t say that.”
We stopped at my car.
The low rumble of his voice continued, “Getting mauled outside the bathroom might have turned some girls off from coming back again the next night though.”
“I’m not most girls.” He had no idea. I might look naïve and innocent, but my scars ran deep. It took a lot to spook me.
I fumbled for my keys, the slow burn of my temper making my hands shake.
“I might look like some nerd college girl and not one of the sexpots tripping through the bar every night, but—”
His voice cut in smooth and deep, no hint of the temper I was feeling. “I didn’t say that, either.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“You’re right. You’re nothing like the other girls I see every night.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” I muttered.
My fingers closed around the hard steel of my keys. Unlocking the door and pulling it open, I looked up to face him, ready to tell him off, but then I lost myself in those pale blue eyes until I wasn’t sure what I was mad about anymore. Those eyes made everything inside me go hot and weak all at once.
“And that’s not a bad thing. Trust me.”
Suddenly my knees felt all trembly, and I knew I needed to sit down.
“Thanks for the walk.” I started to duck inside the car, but his voice stopped me.
“Tell me something, Pepper.”
It was the first time I’d heard my name on his lips.
I nodded dumbly, the open door at my back. “How old are you really?”
The question caught me off guard. “Nineteen.”
He laughed, the sound loose and dark, curling through me like hot chocolate. “Thought so.” His well-carved lips quirked. “You’re just a kid.”
“I am not a kid,” I protested. I haven’t been a kid since I spent my nights in motel bathrooms, listening to my mom getting bombed with random guys on the either side of the door. “How old are you?” I shot back.
“You’re not that much older than me,” I argued. “I’m not a kid.”
He held up both hands as though warding me off. His half smile mocked me. “If you say so.”
I made a growl of frustration. “Don’t do that.”
“Condescend to me,” I snapped.
One of his dark eyebrows winged high. “Uh-oh. I made you mad. College girl is pulling out the big vocabulary now.”
How did this guy get girls to make out with him? He was a colossal jerk. I could blame it on his looks, but not all hot guys were jerks. Hunter wasn’t.
“Prick,” I muttered as I turned to slide into my car. “Why don’t you go back to serving beer and stale peanuts?”
His hand closed around my arm and pulled me back around. I looked down at his hand on my arm and then up to his face.
“Hey,” he said flatly, all hint of a smile gone. My pulse skittered at my neck and I resisted the urge to press a hand there and steady the wild thrum of my blood. I wouldn’t reveal his effect on me. “The peanuts aren’t stale.”
I might have laughed except there was no levity in his expression. His pale blue eyes fastened on my face. His fingers clung to my arm, burning an imprint through my sleeve.
Then those eyes dropped to my lips.
OhGodOhGodOhGod. He’s going to kiss me.
This was it. The moment of my second—scratch that. Third kiss. Unsolicited or not, I had to count last night. This one was the one I had been waiting for though. The one where I would learn to actually kiss. From a guy—a man—who knew how to do it properly.
He inched toward me. My heart erupted like a drum in my chest. His head dipped, and then all thought of what I was about to do fled. There was no thinking. No calculated logic. Just pure sensation.
Blood roared in my ears as he closed the last scrap of space between us. It wasn’t fast. Not like in the movies. No swooping head. I watched his face coming closer. His gaze moved from my mouth back to my eyes several times, studying me, watching my reaction. His hand touched my face, holding my cheek.
No one had ever done that. Well, not that I had a lot of reference, but the warm rasp of his palm on my face felt so very intimate. It made the moment so real, so powerful.
I jumped a little when his mouth finally settled over mine. As though the contact brought on an electrical shock or something. He pulled back and looked at me. For a moment, I thought it was over, that he was finished after just that brush of our lips.
Then his mouth pressed down on mine again and there was nothing tentative about it. His kiss was confident, demanding. Pure deliciousness. Still holding my face with one hand, his other one moved to the small of my back, drawing me closer. His lips tasted mine, angling first one way and then another. As though he wanted to sample every possible direction. His tongue traced the seam of my lips and I shuddered, letting him inside my mouth. My hands gripped his shoulders, fingers curling around the soft cotton, reveling in the warm solidness of him beneath the fabric.
Then it was over. Too soon. I staggered, losing my balance. I caught hold of my open car door with one hand, blinking like I had just woken from some sort of dream. I lifted my hand to my lips, brushing them, feeling them, still warm from his lips. I focused on him, watching in astonishment as he turned and left me standing beside my vehicle.
Not another word. Not another look back.
To check out all five excerpts, head over to Sophie Jordan’s website. You won’t want to miss a single one.
About Sophie Jordan
Sophie Jordan grew up in the Texas hill country where she wove fantasies of dragons, warriors, and princesses. A former high school English teacher, she’s also the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Avon historical romances. She now lives in Houston with her family.
When she’s not writing, she spends her time overloading on caffeine (lattes and Diet cherry Coke preferred), talking plotlines with anyone who will listen (including her kids), and cramming her DVR with true-crime and reality-TV shows.
Sophie also writes paranormal romances under the name Sharie Kohler.