Dating by the Book by Mary Ann Marlowe 💕 Book Blitz & Book Bundle Giveaway 💕 (Contemporary Romance)

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"Romance junkies will get a kick out of this fun, self-referential spin on just about every trope in the book." --Kirkus Reviews

Is love just something you find in books?

Six months ago, writer and bookstore owner Maddie Hanson was left at the altar. Since then, she’s had zero interest in romance—despite the fact that she runs a book club full of sexy eligible bachelors. But when her latest novel is panned by an anonymous blogger who goes by the name Silver Fox—and who accuses her of knowing nothing about passion—she decides to prove her nemesis wrong by seeking a romance hero in real life . . .

There’s the smoldering rock musician, the bookish college professor, and her competitive childhood friend who may want to steal her bookstore more than her heart. Even Silver Fox is getting in on the action, sending Maddie alarmingly—and intoxicatingly—flirtatious emails. And that’s not all. Her ex wants her back.

Now Maddie is about to discover that like any good story, life has twists and turns, and love can happen when you least expect it—with the person you least expect . .

If you live in Indiana, a few things become second nature. One of those is hunkering down in a basement during tornado season. Which is pretty much all year round. We don’t take our chances. We’ve all seen the devastation they can leave behind. A single house among dozens might get knocked down. Or an entire town could get leveled. I’d never mess around with a tornado even if it meant being entombed with Max.

Max hit the switch to flip on the lights. Nothing happened.

The room wasn’t perfectly dark, but so dim, I had to feel along the wall to avoid tripping over the small cot I’d inherited. “I have a flashlight here somewhere.” Soon my hip hit an old workman’s table along the back wall, and I groped in the top drawer until my hand hit solid metal. I turned on the flashlight and pointed it at the bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

Max stretched his arm up, but the metal chain only hung down a few inches, and even on his toes, he couldn’t grasp it. He squatted and patted his knee. “Here. Stand on my thigh and see if you can reach it.”

I put my hands on his shoulders and stepped onto his leg. He held me by the waist as I caught the chain and pulled. No change. “Shit. The bulb’s probably dead.”

The flashlight lay on the table, bouncing our shadows against the wall.

I stepped down, and Max straightened, but rather than drop his hands, he pulled me closer to him. “This reminds me of that time we took those ballroom dance classes.”

My skirt must’ve jogged that image loose.

“Max.” I tried to sound stern, but I chortled at the memory. I assumed the awkward position, laying my left hand on his shoulder and holding my right hand up, waiting for him to take it. Instead, he pressed his lips against my forehead.

Shocked, I let my extended hand drop onto his upper arm and then froze. His bicep was solid muscle. My fingers toyed with the edges of his sleeves, wanting to explore under the fabric. What must his shoulders feel like?

I should have pushed him away, but my grip tightened, and as if invited, his lips moved to my temple.

Imperatives exploded in my mind. Stop! This is Max! My mouth formed the words, but when he laid a gentle kiss on my cheek, I said nothing.

Then his lips brushed mine, and my brain short-circuited completely. The only word in my head sounded like mmm. Every ounce of my attention focused on the delicious luxury of his mouth, parting slightly. We fit together like a puzzle. I sucked on his lower lip, and his tongue darted out against mine. Bolts of lightning shot straight through my stomach, and the rest of my body came online, bit by bit, as if powered by the electricity of his kiss.

My fingers dug into the muscles I’d only just noticed, and he groaned softly. His awakened desire should have cautioned me, but it only made me want more.

He shuffled forward a step, and like an obedient dance partner, I followed his lead, letting him waltz me slowly until my back hit the wall, and he pressed against me, hard, so very hard. My mind caught up to my body with an urgent message: The cock grinding into me belonged to Max. But I didn’t want him to stop.

I hooked an ankle around his knee and forced my hips into him. My skirt rose.

What had been a quiet, low energy cranked up to full power, and the tornado found us. His fingers twined through my hair, loosening the clasp, and he grasped hold to tilt my head so he could drag his lips and teeth down my neck. My hands found the hem of his shirt and plunged under to touch his skin, to claw those tempting muscles along his back.

He broke his kiss to press his cheek against mine and whisper, “Maddie.”

I stilled his lips with mine, savoring the taste of him. His hands roamed across my shirt, territory he’d never explored. Not once. Rather than douse the heat, the violation of our taboo relationship perversely turned it up, turned me on.

Some Kind of Magic is Mary Ann Marlowe's first novel. When not writing, she works by day as a computer programmer/DBA. She spent ten years as a university-level French professor, and her resume includes stints as an au pair in Calais, a hotel intern in Paris, a German tutor, a college radio disc jockey, and a webmaster for several online musician fandoms, plus she has a second-degree black belt. She has lived in twelve states and three countries and loves to travel. She now lives in central Virginia where she is hard at work on her second novel. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.maryannmarlowe.com, on Facebook, www.facebook.com/marlowemaryann/, and at twitter.com/maryannmarlowe.