lundi 10 juillet 2017

Release Blitz : c'st le jour J pour Train Wreck de T Gephart





Résumé


“Sans passion, sans émotion, pas d'originalité- une catastrophe ambulante aux portions épiques. C'étaient les mots utilisés pour décrire l'exposition d'Eve Thorton. Pas même un diplôme d'arts de Yale ou le compte bancaire de son père pourraient l'épargner des critiques mordantes. Et l'échec était un mot avec lequel Eve ne serait jamais à l'aise. Jamais ressenti. 

Se venger de chaque critique qui avait été écrite était son premier instinct. Mais cela viendrait plus tard. Au lieu de cela, elle leur montrerait qu'elle n'était pas une mondaine ennuyeuse avec plus d'argent que de talent. 

 Elle prouverait à tout le monde que c'était faux et qu'elle n'avait pas peur de se salir les mains. Mais quand son voyage pour la rédemption la mène tête en tête avecJosh Logan, le tatoueur sexy et talentueux du Queens, se salir de ses mains prend une toute nouvelle signification.

Josh était tout ce que Eve n'était pas, traduisant sur la peau ce qu'elle ne pouvait pas sur sa toile. Tout ce qu'elle avait à faire était de le convaincre de partager son génie et de l'aider- le voir nu serait un bonus. Puis elle pourrait revenir à sa vie ordinaire, vengeresse. Cela aurait dû être facile. Dommage que ses plans aient l'habitude de capoter

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Liens d'achats




Extrait


Kitty had said Josh Logan was gorgeous.

Her description was tall, athletic and covered in exquisite wearable art.

With jet-black hair that was cropped short except for the top which he wore longer and combed back. Sort of like Elvis, but a thousand times hotter, and without the retro clothes.

So, I had been mentally prepared for a decent looking guy. But I had just shipped off all of Oliver’s stuff and scruffy guys with tattoos weren’t really my thing. Besides, I was here for a purpose, and that was not to get a date. I was a professional and this was New York, and gorgeous men were everywhere. It’s not like I was a bag of hormones incapable of using her head.

Yet all it took was a single freaking smile.

How it was even possible was beyond me, but Kitty severely understated.
Josh Logan was well over six-foot and built like a South American soccer player. You know the kind—hot, toned, and looked fabulous in their underwear on the side of a building. Sadly, Josh was wearing clothes—a fantastic pair of jeans and a black fitted T-shirt that hugged his arms and chest so lovingly it needed a standing ovation.

And those eyes? Wowzas. Perfect cerulean blue.

Tattoo Jesus was freaking HOT.

And another thing, his tattoos were insane. Each perfectly toned arm was covered in intricate designs that went all the way up into his sleeves where they were tragically hidden by his T-shirt. Then the color reappeared, snaking up his neckline. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to lick his skin or hang it on a wall. Oh, that sounded bad. Yeah. Hanging it on the wall sounded creepy. Licking. Licking was better.

I had been a locked vault. Kept it together and pretended he wasn’t the hottest man I’d seen. I’d even managed to carry on a conversation, completely hiding the fact my panties had disintegrated the minute he’d walked into the room. That, my friends, was where the real talent was.


A propos de T. Gephart


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