Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Boy in a Band by Lisa Loomis ♥ Book Tour & GIVEAWAY ♥ (Contemporary Romance)

Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory Story)
Morgan Mallory meets beautiful, sexy, bond haired, blue eyed, Mathew O'Conner, a singer in a rock band, when she's just a teen. Her instant physical attraction to him completely unnerves her. Their convoluted relationship transcends years, and even when she knows it would be best to stay away from him she can't seem to stop herself. What is it about the bad boy she seems to love?

An edgy coming of age novel that is erotic, entertaining, and deeply moving. The characters will seize you and stay with you long after the read is finished. Not your predictable Cinderella story.
Prologue
I could see him up ahead of me, strolling along the shore. The waves breaking, the surf rolling in, water swirling around his feet, white foam wrapping around and then out again. Footprints filled in by surf and then erased. He stopped and looked back at me to see how far I had strayed. As usual I was poking along, looking for beach glass and shells. He whistled.
I looked up in his direction, squinting into the sun. His blond hair, tossed by the breeze, caught the sunlight, his bare chest golden from the beach. When I caught his eye, he smiled at me and motioned for me to catch up. I sped up my pace walking along the ocean's edge to where he stood, eager again to be with him. As I got closer, I stared at his face, so familiar to me, yet still able to make me catch my breath. Had it ever not? I couldn’t remember. He reached his hand out, and when I took it, he laced his fingers in mine. We walked along the ocean, just close enough that the water played around our feet and ankles, at times sucking our feet into the sand. The sun was low in the sky, reflecting off the water.
“I love the colors. How it plays off the water,” I said.
“I know you do. You always have,” he answered.
“What does that mean?” I teased.
I brought his hand between my breasts and wrapped both hands around it, holding tightly, afraid for no reason I could remember.
“Nothing really, I just know,” he replied.
We walked in silence for a long ways. While he held my hand, he intermittently squeezed my fingers. We both understood now how to be with each other without the need for so many words. He stopped and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my body. His skin was warm from the sun, and I breathed in the smell of him. Oh god, how I loved that smell, a slight lemon, vanilla, along with a light musk, but not strong. My body instinctively pressed into him, turning up the heat between the two of us. I looked into his blue eyes, at times so intense, at times so mischievous; I could tell he was happy. How many times had I looked into those eyes and seen other things? My thoughts raced back to when we first met. I could see him in his room, playing the guitar. I remembered the angle of his head and his long thick blond hair, just a hint of a wave to it. What had he played? I reached back. Oh yeah, Classical Gas. “Have you ever heard it?” he’d asked.
We’d come such a long way. He put his hands on both sides of my face and tilted his head slowly to the side. I closed my eyes and waited for his lips to touch mine, remembering how much I could want him. My body tingled in anticipation. He kissed me slowly, soft lips parting mine. His tongue entered my mouth, probing slightly, and then more knowingly. I could feel my longing for him move in and out, like the tide, flowing through my body, desire pooling within me. I kissed him back, my arms wrapping around his neck before I slowly ran one hand down his back, feeling his firm body, and tucking my fingers inside the band of his swim shorts. His hands ventured lower and he cupped my ass.
“Ummm,” he said.
I felt a tingling between my legs, a sensation he could easily make me feel. My hips almost of their own will pressed towards his body. He squeezed my ass, pulling me to him. I could feel his body, his lips, his tongue, a complete sensory overload and wondered again how he could make me feel this every time he touched me. Gayle flashed through my mind. “What magical hold does he have on you?” she’d asked more than once in anger.
I could never answer her, and I was confused as to why all of a sudden. I felt the heat spread from between my legs into my stomach and his kiss squelched the why question in my head. I pushed harder against him and wished I wasn’t restricted by a public place. I wanted to rip his clothes off. I wanted to feel him naked against me, feel him in me. My heart was racing, my body melting into his. The sound of gulls squawking overhead, the children laughing in the distance, playing in the surf all faded away as I lost myself to him. The sound of the waves crashing in time with my emotions as we stood kissing, the water lapping at our feet, ignoring the outside world, aware only of each other. His hands moved to my hips, his fingers digging slightly into my skin as he held me against him. I pressed my pelvis forward, unable to deny the desire, and could feel his hardness.
“Whoa, kid,” he said, pulling away slowly.
I gradually opened my eyes and looked up into his face, his expression was sexy and raw.
“I better get you someplace private before I do something crazy and take you right here,” he said, smiling with that lazy grin of his.
“I’ve always wanted to do it on the beach,” I said, smiling, imaging us rolling in the sand.
“Mm,” he said.
“Mmm, yourself, you bad boy,” I teased, backing toward the water.
Then I saw the look in his eye, and I circled around him the other way. That mischievous look generally meant trouble was on the way.
“Oh, no, you don't,” I laughed.
I knew he was thinking about cooling us both off in the ocean. He’d forced me into the ocean on too many other occasions. Instead, I reached out and gripped his hand firmly, tugging him in the direction of our towels.
“Do you remember the first time?” he asked.
I pondered his question. There had been many different first times.
“The first time we what?” I teased, pulling him to me and pressing my body into his.
“I’m not talking about that,” he said with a smile.
“What then?”
“The first time we met.”
“Your room, raining out, 'Classical Gas',” I answered tartly, squinting slightly at him.
“Pretty girl at my door,” he said, still smiling.
“It was the only first time you didn’t have a say; all the others were on your terms. I reluctantly went along,” I said. “Wait, you did think I was pretty.”
It made me giddy to hear him say it, that I was pretty. He laughed out loud, and it made me smile. I loved it when he laughed; it was irresistible, like music.
“You didn’t like them? I mean the first times?” he asked, looking slightly hurt.
“I didn’t say that. I said they were on your terms. Now I have some say. Finally. Took a long time, you know,” I said.
“Morgan, I didn’t think about it. I was young.”
“And dumb. I know,” I said, looking into his eyes.
I leaned in to kiss him, and he pulled me tight to him.
“And by the way, you weren’t exactly reluctant,” he teased as he squeezed my hand.
I wanted to stay in the moment and not let the past rush in. I wanted to think of only the good. I wanted to not have the doubts. Please I said to myself get over the doubts. When he let me go again, I focused on our towels in the distance: the red and orange and blue of the fabric, bright colors against the sand.
“Let’s get a cold beer,” I said, again pulling him in that direction.
As we walked across the sand, my thoughts were getting jumbled. I tried to remember what year it was. Was it 1973? No, that was when we met. I focused on the towels, but for some reason, we couldn’t reach them. My feet felt heavy and my ears were ringing. I looked to see his face, but it had blurred. The sound of the ocean was getting increasingly louder. I held on tighter to his hand. The colors of the towels suddenly shifted and swirled together like a messy finger painting, and then I was falling, falling through black. I couldn’t feel his hand anymore. Where had the sun gone?
“No, no, wait,” I shouted. “Don’t. No, please no.”
The thoughts were there, but the sound wouldn’t come out or couldn’t be heard. I knew and didn’t want to know, my mind trying to protect me. The fog cleared, and still I tried to stay under. I could feel my body tense, trying to stop it from shaking.
“Hey. Hey, now, it’s okay, it’s okay,” his voice broke through, and the dream faded away.
“Babe, you’re sobbing again in your sleep.”
I kept my eyes shut, coming up gradually; not wanting to face the reality I knew would fill me. Please don’t let this be real. I sluggishly opened my eyes, and my body was still heaving in sobs, my pillow damp on my face, his face hovering above as his arm stretched across my stomach, caressing, worrying. As I looked into his blue eyes, I could see the pain he felt for me in his face, his eyes searching for a way to help. The tears ran out the corners of my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, ashamed.
He pushed a strand of hair that was stuck to my cheek gently off my face.
“Morgan,” he paused, a little too long, which made me want to cry again.
“It will be all right,” he said tenderly.
His tone was so compassionate it made my heart break, tiny pieces shattering inside me.
“I know,” I said through the tears.
I knew he was hurt. He pulled me tightly to him, holding me while I cried.
Lisa Loomis
Lisa Loomis writes because she loves to. Her stories are about the human condition: love, life, and everything in between (including sex, drugs, alcohol, and things just crazy enough to be true). Her stories are not predictable, conventional, or lacking in the messiness of life. She tries to extract the real emotion in any given situation in her characters, with a touch of humor.

Lisa Loomis was born in Oakland California and raised in San Jose until she was a sophomore in high school. Her father then took a job in the San Diego area where he moved the family to Escondido, California (or hickville as she called it). She finished high school at San Pasqual High then went to junior college at Palomar JC, ultimately graduating from San Diego State University with a BS in Finance.

Finding more BS than Finance with the financial meltdown in 2008 she went back to her passion of writing. See all her books on Amazon, and coming to Barnes & Noble and Smashwords in April 2014.

She now lives and writes in Park City, Utah.

Her latest book is the contemporary rock star romance, Boy In a Band.
Lisa Loomis is giving away a $25 Amazon Gift Card!
  • By entering, you confirm you are 18 years of age or older.
  • Giveaway runs from 12:00 AM EST on July 7 through 12:00 AM EST on August 1, 2014.
  • Winner will be selected randomly by Rafflecopter.
  • Winner will be notified by email and has 72 hours to claim the prize before a new winner is selected.
  • Prize will be sent via email from the author’s representative.
  • VOID WHERE PROHIBITED.

1 comment :

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