Summer Love, #1
by Tamara Mataya
Released June 7th 2016
Sourcebooks Casablanca
Sourcebooks Casablanca
From
The Book Junkie Reads . . . Missed Connections (Summer Love, #1) . . .
Frustration. Confusion. Disillusion. It took me a while to feel connected to Sarah. I could understand her but her attitude and outlook took a bit to acclimate to. She seemed to be different in the end compared to how I viewed her in the beginning. For me this was a book more about the girl that allowed herself to get in her own way. The roadblocks to what she wanted was herself. She damaged most of what she wanted. She needed to look further into why she was doing these things. She was driven for what she wanted but that drive got in her way sometimes.
Once the door began to open she began to evaluate what she was doing and why. I thought it was a bit too little way too late. Jack deserved so much more than the scraps that seemed to be thrown his way. Sarah did not deserved this man that was trying. This man that was hoping. This man that was dreaming.
Missed connections may have been the key to helping Sarah change for the better. Different. Interesting. Some strange secondary characters.
**This ARC was provided via Tasty Book Tours
in exchange for an honest review.**
Blurb
Missed Connection: I saw you standing there, and I was struck by your eyes. Gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as your smile.
Missed Connection: I saw you standing there, and I was struck by your eyes. Gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as your smile.
Thanks
to her job at a crazy New Age spa, what should have been a sizzling NYC summer
is being hijacked by demanding hippie bosses. To unwind, Sarah spends her
nights cruising Missed Connections, dreaming of finding an uber-romantic entry
all about her. Of course, the moment she finds that Missed Connection, real
life comes crashing down around her in a night of unbridled passion with
someone completely different: totally off-limits Jack.
Best.
Hookup. Ever.
Gorgeous
and wealthy, hot as sin, Jack can give Sarah everything she needs-except an
emotional connection. That she gets from her Missed Connection, the romantic
stranger who never fails to make her swoon. But there's only so much of Sarah
to go around. Torn between the bad boy she can't keep and the sensitive
stranger who bares his soul online, her heart and body are soon in two very
different relationships...or are they?
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Has an elevator ride ever taken so long? The slow circles
he traces on the back of my hand with his thumb have me debating stopping the
elevator and dragging him into a stairwell to get him naked now, but the elevator stops on my floor
and we’re so close to my bed.
Door open, door closed, shoes were on, kick them off. No
stopping to ask if he’d like something to drink, I pull him straight to the
bedroom and turn to face him. His momentum crushes us together, and I press
harder against him, wrap my arms around and grab that tight ass I’ve wanted to
squeeze for years and grind against him. This time when my lips meet his,
they’re curled into a satisfied smile because now there’s nothing stopping us
but clothes and common sense.
One down.
His skin is smooth and warm beneath my hands, which I slide
beneath the hem of his t-shirt before coaxing it over his head. Kissing down
his throat and chest, lightly grazing it with my teeth, I’m rewarded with his
intake of breath and his hands finding their way to my shoulders. He pulls me
upright and kisses me hungrily. One hand wraps around, bending me back like a
cobra, and he tangles his hand in my hair, squeezing my body in his arms like
he can’t get enough.
I want him on top of me. Now.
We’re riding the same lusty wavelength, because he
straightens and pulls back. “Take your shirt off. I need to see you.”
“Take your pants off,” I counter. “I need to feel you.”
His jeans hitting my floor is the most glorious sound I’ve
ever heard.
“Now you.” His order is paired with hungry eyes.
I pull my shirt over my head slowly to make him wait. When I
get it over my head and can see again, he’s moved closer and stands only inches
away from me.
“Hi.” His voice is a smoldering bed of hot coals I want to
roll around in.
“Hi.” I smile. “Want to help me with my pants?”
His long, well-formed fingers curl into the belt loops of my
jeans and tug me closer. “You sure you need help, beautiful girl?”
I trail my hands over the chiseled contours of his abs and
up his well-defined chest. “My hands are busy.”
The pull of the button and slide of the zipper and cool
night air greets my thighs and calves. He’s bent closer to coax my jeans down and his hair smells woodsy and fresh like a forest
after a storm. I stop him on his way up, my mouth on his again, and how will I
ever get enough of these lips, this tongue, now that I’ve tasted this forbidden
fruit?
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Author Info
Tamara Mataya is a New York Times and USA Today
bestselling author, a librarian, and a musician with synesthesia. Armed with a
name tag and a thin veneer of credibility, she takes great delight in
recommending books and shushing people. She puts the 'she' in TWSS and the B in
LGBTQIA+. She’s the co-creator of Pitchmas, a bi-annual pitch contest for
writers, and as a freelance editor, has worked with NYT Bestselling authors.
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