LIES WE LIVE by Brenda St John Brown -- Release Day Blast
About LIES WE LIVE:
Twenty-nine-year-old Ella Ingraham is a best-selling novelist. She's also a murderer. At least that's what most of the world thinks after her bastard ex-boyfriend brought a tabloid frenzy and a civil suit down on her for "negligence" following the stillbirth of their unplanned child at eight months.
Her New York - California drive is meant to be an escape after the hell of the trial, and Horatio, AK is just another random exit off the highway. Until she meets Josh Devereaux, part-time farmer, full-time tech genius holed up in his hometown after a few years in New York turned him into a bigger asshole than he ever thought he'd be.
Ella finds Josh Fascinating, capital "F". Followed immediately by unnerving. He knows too much about her and, quite frankly, he tries too damn hard. That's a red flag if she's ever seen one. Or at least it would be if she were thinking with her head and not the more irrational parts of her anatomy. Like her heart.
Where you can find LIES WE LIVE:
Nook and iTunes, too!
Brenda is originally from upstate New York, but now lives in a tiny village in Northwest England after stops in New York City, Tokyo and London. She's lived in the UK long enough to gain dual citizenship, but still insists on still spelling things the American way and regularly questions how she feels about tea. Brenda writes romance -- everything from YA to adult contemporary. When she's not writing, Brenda likes running (okay, it's really more of a jog and the "like" part is variable!) and cooking. She thinks her ten-year-old son has a pretty great sense of humor, which probably tells you everything you need to know about her own. Brenda's New Adult romance, SWIMMING TO TOKYO is available now and her adult contemporary romantic suspense LIES WE LIVE is her second novel.
I make myself face Josh as Delia pours the beers from the tap. “I wouldn’t have expected Bass on tap.”
“Well, it was either that or Bud Light and you’re not a Bud Light kind of girl.” Josh moves his eyes over me with a deliberate slowness, taking in the old cut-off shorts and faded tank top I threw on this morning somewhere in Tennessee. It’s the kind of once over that usually annoys the crap out of me, but combined with the way he’s biting his lip like that, it feels so sensual it sends a tingle up my spine.
Double double shit.
“How do you know what kind of girl I am?” The words come out of my mouth somewhere between flirtatious and defensive.
He scans my hands. He won’t find any rings, that’s for damn sure. “Well, let’s see. You’re from New York City, so I’d say either Upper West Side or West Village. Red meat, no. Recycling, yes. Boyfriend, definitely, perhaps even a discarded engagement in the closet.”
I raise my eyebrows and hold his eyes. They’re dark brown like melted chocolate, framed by long lashes. His cheekbones are high enough to be prominent, but not pretty. My gaze slides down the planes of his face to his lips, which are full and… No. I don’t need to be going there. Just in time, Delia sets the beers down on the bar in front of me and I give her a nod of thanks. “Wrong, wrong, and wrong. Although I do recycle.”
Josh smiles more broadly. Dimples. Slightly crooked front teeth that make him more attractive instead of less. “Well, twenty-five percent isn’t bad.”
“Oh, please. Those are shit odds.”