GOOD GIRL
Lauren Layne
May 17th, 2016
Loveswept
In this
steamy novel from the USA Today bestselling author of Blurred
Lines, country music’s favorite good girl hides away from the
world—and finds herself bunking with a guy who makes her want to be a little
bad.
Jenny Dawson moved to Nashville to
write music, not get famous. But when her latest record goes double platinum,
Jenny’s suddenly one of the town’s biggest stars—and the center of a tabloid
scandal connecting her with a pop star she’s barely even met. With paparazzi
tracking her every move, Jenny flees to a remote mansion in Louisiana to write
her next album. The only hiccup is the unexpected presence of a brooding young
caretaker named Noah, whose foul mouth and snap judgments lead to constant
bickering—and serious heat.
Noah really should tell Jenny that
he’s Preston Noah Maxwell Walcott, the owner of the estate where the feisty
country singer has made her spoiled self at home. But the charade gives Noah a
much-needed break from his own troubles, and before long, their verbal sparring
is indistinguishable from foreplay. But as sizzling nights give way to quiet
pillow talk, Noah begins to realize that Jenny’s almost as complicated as he
is. To fit into each other’s lives, they’ll need the courage to face their
problems together—before the outside world catches up to them.
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I received an advanced copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
After a false tabloid story paints country star Jenny Dawson as a homewrecker, she needs to get away. She makes plans to go to go to middle of nowhere Louisiana where she can finish her new album in peace. Upon arriving she meets Noah, the surly caretaker of the mansion where she is staying. But what she doesn't know is that Noah is actually Preston, the owner. Noah also wants to get away. He has called off his impending wedding and finds himself at a crossroads in his career.
The two do not get off to a great start, but that is what all enemies to lovers books are all about. They both make false assumptions about the other person that has them at odds, but underneath it all, they are extremely attracted to one another. Luckily for Jenny, that animosity plus some crazy sexual tension makes for some great album material and it doesn't take her long to make some .
As the two of them (and their adorable dogs) spend time together they slowly learn that their initial assumptions were wrong. They even form a kind of friends with benefits relationship that is both extremely hot at time and also quite sweet.
“Thanks again for including me in your boys’night,”I say, feeling a little awkward, as though it’s the last part of a date that’s not a date. “It was nice not to feel . . . lonely.”
Something flits across his face, and his hand twitches at his side, then goes still. Then slowly he moves his hand again, lifting it to me, palm up.
I blink down at it, and then hoping like hell I’m not reading this moment wrong, I lift my hand, place my palm against his.
His fingers close over mine, thumb rubbing briefly over the top of my knuckles before he tugs me forward. Only it’s not toward him, nor is it in the direction of the house.
Noah walks me to the back of the truck, releasing my hand to unlatch the tailgate before going back to the cab. Rummaging around, he comes up with a plaid blanket.
I watch wordlessly as he climbs into the truck bed and spreads out the blanket before jumping back to the ground.
Slowly he reaches out, slides his fingers beneath my wig, and eases it off before tossing it into the back of the truck. Then his fingers go around to the nape of my neck, where my hair’s pulled back in a small tight knot. He tugs the band slowly until my hair spills over my shoulders.
“Much better,” he whispers before shoving the band into his pocket and hooking his hands beneath my armpits. Noah lifts me easily onto the truck bed.
Instinctively I tug at the bottom of my skirt, which has ridden up. I am a lady, after all.
He gives me a gentle smirk. “I’ve seen it all, princess.”
Right. There’s that.
Still, I narrow my eyes. “Just because you’ve seen it once—”
“Twice.”
“Twice,” I amend. “Anyway, that doesn’t mean that you’re going to see it again.”
“You sure about that?” He hoists himself back onto the truck bed, using his chin to indicate that I should scoot back.
“This is your grand seduction plan to get round number three?” I ask skeptically as I make room for him. “The back of a truck?”
But they both know that their time together does have an expiration date. Jenny is only there for the summer and eventually Noah will have to deal with all the stuff he he has been avoiding.
EXCERPT
Noah“What time did you say this chick was arriving?” Finn asks around his cigarette.
“Tomorrow morning,” I say, rapping my toe against a funny-looking floorboard and wincing when it buckles.
“Huh.” Finn exhales and looks out the window.
I know that tone. “What?”
“Seems she might have gotten here early,” he says, a second before the quiet afternoon erupts with the sound of my dog losing his mind, mingled with the shrill piercing yap of a much smaller dog.
“Seriously?”
Finn shrugs and nods. “There’s a girl outside.”
“Shit,” I mutter as I head toward the stairs, dodging the two broken ones.
Ranger’s about as good a dog as they come, wouldn’t hurt a fly. But he’s a big dog with a big bark, and one serious weakness: gleefully humping smaller dogs. He’s a rescue, and though he was fixed after they brought him in, he’d already gone through canine puberty, or whatever. He’s still got the fierce urge to hump, although it’s more habit than hormones.
I exit out the front door just in time to see my big brown Lab leap forward, his clumsy paws finding the shoulders of a blond girl who lets out a shriek, holding a cat above her head like that scene from The Lion King.
“Ranger, no! Down.”
I run forward, my hand finding the collar of my dog and yanking him backward as I search the ground to find the source of the small-dog barks still piercing the air.
Then I register that the sound is coming from above, and realize . . .
The cotton ball isn’t a cat.
That orange piece of fluff is a dog, and Ranger is apparently in love.
“What the heck is wrong with your dog?” the girl says as she slowly lowers the puffball from over her head, cradling the hideous little monster against her chest as it continues its high-pitched bloody-murder yips.
“At least my dog is actually a dog,” I say, staring in horror at the pointy face of a canine that could fit in one of my hands. “I’ve seen dust bunnies bigger than that thing.”
“Dolly’s a Pomeranian,” she says, setting a hand on top of the monster’s head. “She’s supposed to be this tiny.”
“Well, Ranger’s a Lab. He’s supposed to be this normal.”
“He attacked me,” she says, giving Ranger a wary look as his tongue hangs out the side of his mouth, his eyes locked lovingly on Dolly.
“He didn’t want you, he wanted the . . . dog,” I say, forcing myself to acknowledge that the creature in her hands might be part of the canine family.
“For what, dinner?”
I don’t respond, because now that the crisis is averted, I’ve managed to shift my attention from the dogs to the girl, and . . .
Holy shit.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been sucker-punched by equal waves of lust and disdain before.
Jenny Dawson is hot as hell.
I knew that going in, but up close she’s even more mouthwatering. Her white skirt is short and tight, her legs long and toned.
She’s wearing some billowing pink top, so I can’t get a good look at what’s happening there, but it doesn’t really matter. I’ve always been a legs man, and I can’t stop looking.
The legs are a 10.
The face is a 10.
And the long blond hair spilling over one shoulder definitely begs to be spread over a man’s pillow. My pillow.
And yet even as my cock says yes, my brain is saying hell no.
Gorgeous as she is, she screams diva from the pink toenails to the sky-high stiletto sandals and all the way up to the carefully made-up face.
I just turned my entire life upside down trying to get away from a woman exactly like this one, so this is definitely a look, don’t touch situation.
But I’m looking. I’m definitely looking.
Lauren Layne is the USA Today
Bestselling author of more than a dozen contemporary romance novels.
Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. A year after moving from Seattle to NYC to pursue a writing career, she had a fabulous agent and multiple New York publishing deals.
Lauren currently lives in Manhattan with her husband and plus-sized Pomeranian. When not writing, you'll likely find her running (rarely), reading (sometimes), or at happy hour (often).
Prior to becoming an author, Lauren worked in e-commerce and web-marketing. A year after moving from Seattle to NYC to pursue a writing career, she had a fabulous agent and multiple New York publishing deals.
Lauren currently lives in Manhattan with her husband and plus-sized Pomeranian. When not writing, you'll likely find her running (rarely), reading (sometimes), or at happy hour (often).
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