Three Simple Words
Kingston Ale House, #3
by AJ Pine
Publication Date: October 17th 2016
Publisher:
Entangled: Select
Genres: Adult, Contemporary
Romance
She's holding
out for a happy ever after.
From The Book Junkie Reads . . . Three Simple Words (Kingston Ale House, #3) . . .
Read this away from prying eyes and
ears. You will laugh, loud. You will laugh, hard. You will laugh, with joy. You
may even laugh to the point of tears. I had a great time reading thing one. The banter. The witty comebacks.
The hot sexy younger man. The sweet, endearingly sexy older sister of his best friend. Chemistry. Steamy. Engaging. The man that writes the book goes to the girl that sales the books and get clarity. There is a story behind that you have to read to find out.
Annie and Wes know each other from back in the day. Wes has made something of a name for himself. He has to come up with a second book and writer's block had come a knocking. He decides to head back home and maybe things can clear up. He never would have guessed that his crush from years ago would be the one to open the gates on his block.
Annie, the die hard reader, loves books, blogging, selling. She sees and opportunity and takes it. She just was not fully prepared for all that came with it.
Looking for a laughs with more. Pick up Three Simple Words. It certainly had more.
The hot sexy younger man. The sweet, endearingly sexy older sister of his best friend. Chemistry. Steamy. Engaging. The man that writes the book goes to the girl that sales the books and get clarity. There is a story behind that you have to read to find out.
Annie and Wes know each other from back in the day. Wes has made something of a name for himself. He has to come up with a second book and writer's block had come a knocking. He decides to head back home and maybe things can clear up. He never would have guessed that his crush from years ago would be the one to open the gates on his block.
Annie, the die hard reader, loves books, blogging, selling. She sees and opportunity and takes it. She just was not fully prepared for all that came with it.
Looking for a laughs with more. Pick up Three Simple Words. It certainly had more.
BLURB
Annie
I know where to find my happily ever after—between the pages of a romance novel. It’s why I sell books, why I blog about them, and why I’ll never get disappointed by love.
So what if my brother’s best friend from high school is now a bestselling author? Or that he just blew back into town on a Harley, filling out a pair of jeans like he never did before? Or that he’s agreed to do a signing at my bookstore on such short notice? Because despite all his adoring female fans, I kind of hated his book.
Wes
The last time I saw Annie Denning, she was a senior in high school, three years older than me and way out of my league.
Now I’m her last-minute date to a wedding, and what started as a night of pure fun has turned into something more real than either of us anticipated.
Annie is my muse. When I’m with her, my writer’s block fades away, and the words finally flow.
The only problem? She wants the fairy tale—her very own happily ever after—and anyone who’s read my book knows the truth. I just don’t believe they exist.
Annie
I know where to find my happily ever after—between the pages of a romance novel. It’s why I sell books, why I blog about them, and why I’ll never get disappointed by love.
So what if my brother’s best friend from high school is now a bestselling author? Or that he just blew back into town on a Harley, filling out a pair of jeans like he never did before? Or that he’s agreed to do a signing at my bookstore on such short notice? Because despite all his adoring female fans, I kind of hated his book.
Wes
The last time I saw Annie Denning, she was a senior in high school, three years older than me and way out of my league.
Now I’m her last-minute date to a wedding, and what started as a night of pure fun has turned into something more real than either of us anticipated.
Annie is my muse. When I’m with her, my writer’s block fades away, and the words finally flow.
The only problem? She wants the fairy tale—her very own happily ever after—and anyone who’s read my book knows the truth. I just don’t believe they exist.
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Excerpt - Chapter One
“I think we have time for a couple more
questions,” Wes said as he looked out onto a sea of smiling, beautiful faces.
One of the perks of the job for sure.
A hand shot up from
the center of the crowd, and Wes nodded toward the woman. She stood, blond
waves tumbling over her shoulders and directing his eyes right to where her
breasts swelled beneath her shape-hugging sweater.
His lips curved
upward. She glanced down to where his gaze rested below her eyes and offered a
coy smile of her own. Then she surveyed his form, starting from his head and
traveling lazily to just below the belt. She raised her brows with what felt to
him like approval. She glanced up, and he met her stare with unabashed
boldness.
“You…have a
question?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered
without hesitation. “Your hero, Ethan, is a very skilled lover in Down This
Road. Tell me, do you write from experience or just base those scenes on
extensive—research?”
He flashed her a
roguish smile and leaned back against the signing table, running a hand through
his light brown waves.
“I like to think of
experience as research,” he said. “And I’m always looking to learn something
new—for the sake of the next book, of course.”
The woman narrowed
her stare and pressed her lips into a knowing smile.
“The oral sex!” a
petite brunette with a pixie cut blurted from her seat before he could ask for
the last question, and gasps and murmurs echoed among the seated crowd. “The
oral sex scenes were my favorite,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice.
“He wasn’t just a skilled lover but an attentive one. I think that’s one of the
reasons why all those women were forgiving of his inability to commit.
Because—because—”
“The oral sex,” Wes
said, finishing her thought, and she nodded vigorously.
His agent, Max, shot
up from his stool at the bar. “And, that’s it for questions, ladies. Let’s give
Mr. Hartley here a few minutes to grab a drink, and then he’ll be signing for
those of you who purchased books.”
Max ushered him
toward the bar as he thanked the crowd for their patience.
“You really are an
asshole,” Max said. “Seriously. You’ve fucking ruined sex for those of us with
wives and partners who expect us to be able to do what Ethan can do. If you
didn’t pack houses like this with readers willing to throw their money at you,
I’d cut you loose right now.”
Wes ordered his drink
and laughed. “I could do a how-to manual next if you want. Maybe a YouTube
video? Or how about this? If you’re doing it wrong, ask her how the hell you
can do it right.”
“Fuck you,” Max said.
“It’s not that easy.”
Wes raised a brow.
“Have you ever asked your wife what she likes?”
Max laughed. “You mean
other than her personal shopper at Bloomingdales?” He went silent for a moment,
and then his eyes widened. “Jesus, you’re a genius, Hartley.”
Wes took a slow sip
of his drink. “True—but I don’t follow.”
Max pulled his phone
from his pocket and began hammering out a text. When he finished he looked at
Wes again. “I just told her I’m meeting her at Bloomingdale’s after my
breakfast meeting tomorrow. In a fitting room. Where I’m prepared to ask her
what she’d like.”
Wes laughed and shook
his head. “That’s one way to go about it. Feel free to bring the book if you
want to reference a specific scene.”
“Speaking of books…”
Max said, but Wes cut him off.
“There’s a line at
the signing table. I’ll catch you after?”
He didn’t wait for
Max’s response. He was on too much of a high from the Q&A. Now wasn’t the
time to get into book two—or the current lack thereof. He had a line of women
waiting for him, and he wasn’t one to disappoint.
Wes scrawled his name
across the title page along with his signature phrase, “Enjoy the journey.” He
slid the book back to the woman, enjoying the flush that grew in her cheeks as
her hand accidentally brushed his.
“Thanks for coming
out tonight,” he said, lifting his rocks glass in a gesture of cheers before he
threw back what was left of his scotch. The woman from the Q&A—the one so
curious about his research—bit her lip and smiled, glancing behind her to the
handful of other women still in line. When she looked back at him, she swiped a
tongue over her painted bottom lip and tucked her blond waves behind her ear.
“Will you be staying
for drinks after the signing?” she asked, her tone full of innocence, but her
blue eyes brimming with heat.
Wes noted his empty
glass and gave her one of his patented “Wes Hartley author” grins.
“It does look like
I’m in need of a refill,” he said.
She pressed her hands
to the table and leaned forward, whispering in his ear, “Then I guess I’ll see
you at the bar.”
“I guess you will.”
No sooner had she
ducked out of line than the next woman placed her book on the signing table.
“Can I get a picture with you?” she asked.
“Oooh, I’ll take it
for you!” the woman behind her said. “If you’ll take one of me and Wes with my
phone when you’re done!”
And there she was—the
woman without a question at all who just wanted to talk oral sex—rounding the
table before he had time to think. And then she slid onto his goddamn lap. Wes
glanced toward the bar where Max still sat, and the man raised both a brow and
a glass. Wes shrugged. This was the part of the job he’d never get tired of.
He encouraged the
woman to wrap her arms around his neck, then tilted her down into an almost
kiss.
She gasped. “This is
just like that first time in Natasha’s apartment where Ethan tells her the
relationship can’t move forward and then he lays her out on the butcher block
table and—”
“The oral sex,” Wes
said.
She swallowed hard,
apparently unable to respond as she squirmed against his thighs.
“Say cheese!” the
other woman said, and he flashed his grin toward the phone aimed in their
direction.
No. He’d sure as hell
never get tired of this.
Max was gone by the time the signing had
ended, no doubt only there to make sure he sold a respectable amount. Judging
by the fact that the bookseller had to return to the shop to grab more stock,
he’d say he had. But the text his agent had sent still hung in the air.
Don’t fuck anyone who
might fuck up your sales. Send me that new manuscript ASAP. And call me when
you get to Chicago. I still think you’re crazy as hell for leaving New York,
but who am I other than the guy who sends you those big, fat checks? Just
remember what we have riding on book two.
Looked like Max
didn’t need to continue their conversation face-to-face. All that had to be
said was right there.
Wes looked up from
his phone to find the blonde who’d offered to buy his next drink waiting on a
stool with two rocks glasses in front of her, crystal clear liquid in each.
“I’m a vodka girl
myself,” she said. “I hope that’s okay.”
Wes smiled. “I’m not
a picky man,” he said, lifting one of the glasses to his lips and taking a sip.
Heat spread from his tongue to his throat and straight to his core.
“You a New Yorker?”
he asked, and she gave him a coy smile.
“I’m from Philly,
actually. Took the train up just for your event. Heading back home in the morning.”
She drank. “Look, I don’t do things like this. Ever. But your book—it just…
You’re Ethan, right? Meandering down this road and never really finding what
you want? I mean, that’s the title. Down This Road.”
“It’s a story,” he
said, voice steady. “Make believe,” he teased. Because this was where he always
drew the line, letting on how much autobiography actually seeped into fiction.
“Well…all those
relationships?” she said. “All of them ending…and the hero resigning himself to
being alone? Ugh.” She shuddered. “So. Many. Feels.”
He laughed and held
up his glass. “To feels, then,” he said.
“To feels!”
They clinked their
glasses together then drained the rest of their drinks.
“Excuse me, Mr.
Hartley?”
The voice came from
behind. He turned to see the brunette pixie who’d been in his lap only thirty
minutes before.
He raised his brows.
“I was hoping I could
buy you a drink?”
A blonde to his left,
brunette to his right, and they wanted to buy more than just his books. Who was
he to say no?
“I guess it’s a party
now,” he said, and surprisingly both women smiled.
“Another round,” the
blonde said to the bartender. “Plus one.” She glanced back at the other woman.
And then it was like
a swarm—the bar flooded with the women who’d stayed past the end of the scheduled
event. Drinks were poured, drank, and Wes was in his element, at his best when
he was the star of the show.
When it was well past
midnight, he finally broke from the small crowd that remained.
“I need to head out,
ladies, but it has been a lovely evening.”
There were audible
awwws and visible pouts.
“You’re leaving?
A-alone?”
The brunette pixie’s
eyes were wide, and he chuckled softly at the memory of her blurting oral sex
during his Q&A.
“Sorry to
disappoint,” he said, though the disappointment was really his. “But I thank
everyone for a spectacular night.”
He gave the small
party a nod and backed away, offering them one final, appreciative grin.
Because he wasn’t an
idiot. He was grateful for all of the attention and knew it could end as
quickly as it began. But for now the show was over, because Wes Hartley wasn’t
headed back to his New York apartment. He was headed home.
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