May 31, 2015

Blog Tour Promo Post: Searching For Perfect by Jennifer Probst

at 5/31/2015 07:47:00 PM


Searching For #3


Genevieve MacKenzie has her life completely under control. About to wed the charming Chief doctor at the local hospital, she’s an up-and-coming surgeon with everything she could ever want. Until an escape through the church window on the day of her wedding sends her life into a tailspin…and flings her right into her best friend’s arms.

When Wolfe catches his best friend falling out a window on her wedding day, he doesn’t ask questions. He whisks her away, determined to watch over her and discover the truth behind her desperate escape. But when his feelings turn more than platonic, he realizes he may risk his most important relationship in order to protect his damaged heart, and the woman he loves.

Can Genevieve and Wolfe’s friendship turn into something deeper—or is it already too late for true love?


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Excerpt

He made a move to get up, but she lost it, knowing
once she spotted the pity in his eyes she may
never be the same. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me!
I need you to leave. I’m begging you to go out the
door and give me time. Tomorrow, I’ll put myself back
together and everything will be fine.” Her voice broke
but she pushed on. “I just need some time alone. To
process. Please, Wolfe, please just go.”
She had nothing left, so she turned and walked toward
the window. He didn’t move from the edge of
the bed. Didn’t breathe. She pressed her forehead to
the cool pane of glass and prayed to finish this awful
night in isolation. Tomorrow she’d get her shit together
and it would be okay. But tonight all bets were
off, and she felt dangerously out of control . . . on the
pinnacle of something so fierce she didn’t know how
to handle it.
The mattress creaked. Shoes hit the floor. She
held her breath and waited for the blessed silence,
but instead of heading out, he stopped right behind
her. His body heat roped her in and pulled tight, like
a helpless calf at the rodeo. She held the windowsill
in a deathlike grip, sensing him closing the distance
inch by precious inch, until his chest pressed against
her back.
“Look at me.”
The rough growl was full of danger, command,
heat. She was helpless to disobey, leaving the safety
of the window to turn and face him full force. He
reached out and tipped her chin up.
Blistering, raw lust shot from his eyes. As if they
were glowing from under the sea in the Caribbean,
she tumbled into the depths of a gaze that promised
everything with a Warning: Danger label attached.
His grip tightened, refusing to allow her to retreat,
and he crowded her space by taking another step between
her thighs. The sill dug into her lower back. His
scent drowned out everything but the need to touch
him, feast, taste—the delicious mix of lemon and soap
and cotton surrounding her.
“I need you to listen closely, because I’m only
going to say it once. Understood?”
Her lips parted. This was no friend. This was a
deadly man with an agenda. Transfixed, she nodded,
unable to form words, mere prey beneath the command
of a dangerous predator.
“I’m done with excuses and conversation and politeness.
I’m over this bullshit of you questioning the
power you have to grip me in a vise so tight I can’t
even breathe without wanting you with my last
breath. I’m tired of walking around with a dick that
won’t go down when I catch your scent, or look at
your sweet curves, or imagine being buried deep
within you. Are you still listening, Gen?”
Her body flamed so hot and bright she was surprised
burn marks didn’t appear on her skin. She
began to shake, and her belly uncurled so a river flow
of liquid warmth coursed between her thighs, tightening
her muscles, gripping her with a need she’d
never experienced or believed could be real. “Yes,”
she whispered.
“Good. Because tonight I’m going to fuck you. All
night. If I was a true friend, I’d walk out that door and
give you the space to rebuild your walls. You deserve
that. But I’m a selfish prick who needs you in my bed
so bad I’ll trade my soul to the devil for one taste of
you. Still listening?”
“Y-y-yes.”
“I’ll give you three seconds to run. It’s the smart
thing to do. Just walk away from me and we’ll never
mention this again. We’ll go back to being friends,
push this whole episode aside, and go on pretending.
But if you’re still standing here after that, you’re mine.
Every part of you. And I promise you’ll never question
your ability to cast a sexual spell on a man so
deep and encompassing he’ll spend the rest of his life
comparing you to every other woman he touches.”
Her head spun, the room tilted, and she grasped
his arm to keep her balance. “Wolfe.”
“One.”
Her stomach dropped to her toes. His mouth
moved closer.
“Oh, God.”
 “Two.”
She swallowed, one foot poised for flight, knowing
it would wreck everything, change their relationship
forever, open a door that could never be shut and
locked again.
“I don’t—”
“Three. Too late. You belong to me for tonight.”
“I think—”
“Don’t think. Just give me everything you got.”
He cupped her cheeks, dropped his head, and took
her mouth.

Author Information



Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.

She makes her home in Upstate New York with the whole crew. Her sons keep her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean. She is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of sexy and erotic contemporary romance. She was thrilled her book, The Marriage Bargain, was ranked #6 on Amazon's Best Books for 2012. She loves hearing from readers. Visit her website for updates on new releases and her street team at www.jenniferprobst.com.


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