Seven years later, things are different. Adele is no longer a kid, but a fully grown adult more than capable of getting through the wedding and being polite. But all it takes is seeing him again to bring back those old feelings.
Sometimes first loves are the truest.
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Read my Book Review
Release Date: August 7, 2018
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Actual Rating: 4 stars
I have been a fan of Kylie Scott since her Dive Bar series and was anxiously awaiting a new read from here. When I started It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, I knew I was getting exactly what I needed in a romance. Now I know I can always count on the author to being me a swoon worthy romance that will make me smile.
If you are a fan of the authors work then I would highly recommend this one. While it was much different than her Dive Bar series in terms of characters (their maturity etc.) it is still a fantastic novel. Sure, there are moments where readers want to pull out their hair and make the hero see what is meant for him, but there are the same amount of moments where readers will get all those feelings of butterflies in their chest. It's a good novel, one I wouldn't recommend missing.
If you are a fan of age gap romances, the author previous work, and romances in general, pick up this one.
Read an Excerpt
It was meant to be a soft kiss. A chaste one, even.
The minute my lips touched his, however, everything changed. Callused hands grabbed the sides of my face and my mouth opened on a gasp. His tongue swept inside, taking me over. Holy hell. Shoes and purse hit the floor, forgotten. Nothing about this kiss was slow or easy. The man devoured me. Every ounce of emotion poured into that kiss, all of the anger and frustration between us. His tongue was teasing and tasting, driving me wild. Then he drew back to suck and nip at my bottom lip. One hand slid around the back of my neck, the other over my hip to grab at my ass. His hold was firm, a little rough even. He treated my body like it belonged to him and I wasn’t gentle either.
Apparently experience mattered. Because all I could do was try and keep up.
I held on tight to his open shirt, straining against him, trying to get closer. I’d have crawled inside the man if I could. Turned out that under certain circumstances, the taste of scotch worked for me in a big way. Against my hip, his cock hardened, digging into me. And oh my God, I’d done that to him. Me. How amazing! Meanwhile, my body felt liquid, core aching and empty. I needed him inside of me and it seemed like I’d already been waiting forever.
“Fuck,” he muttered, breath hot against my ear.
I fumbled at the remaining buttons on his shirt. My damn fingers didn’t seem to be working. Easier to just push the whole thing upward. Luckily, the man decided to help, tearing the shirt off over his head. More skin was good. And he was so hot and smooth, a thrill to the touch. The solid flesh of his pecs and the flat plane of his stomach.
He tore at the zipper on the back of my dress, dragging fabric down over my shoulders. A growl came from the back of his throat, a noise of frustration, impatience. I’m reasonably certain I heard the silk rip. I didn’t care. His hands and mouth seemed to cover every bit of skin revealed, touching and tasting me everywhere. The dress got stuck on my hips. Out of the way enough for now.
He didn’t even bother undoing my bra, simply peeling down one of the lace cups to free my flesh. My breast filled his hot palm as it took the weight. Fingers plumped me, his thumb flicking over my hard nipple. The sting of pain followed by the heat of his kiss made my head spin and my body ache. There was no room for thought as he fed me deep, wet kisses. Slowly, he took us to the floor. No time for anything else. Just the urgent need to have him inside me.
The hardness of the polished wood was cool against my back. My legs were spread, his body between them. And with his broad chest above me, his weight taken on one arm, he was all I could see. I swear even the insides of my thighs were wet, I was so ready. It would have been embarrassing with anybody else. But this man, he had to know, he had to understand. It had always been him.
“Pete, I need—”
“I know,” he said, voice harsh and low.
About Kylie Scott
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