Feisty by Julia Kent 💕 99¢ Sale Blitz & Gift Card Giveaway 💕 (Romantic Comedy)

This blog post contains affiliate links. Click Here for details.

It all started with the wrong Help Wanted ad. Of course it did.

I’m a professional fluffer. It’s NOT what you think. I stage homes for a living. Real estate agents love me, and my work stands on its own merits.

Sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter. Go ahead. Laugh. I’ll wait.

See? That’s the problem. My career has used the term “fluffer” for decades. I didn’t even know there was a more… lascivious definition of the term.

Until it was too late.

The ad for a “professional fluffer” on Craigslist seemed like divine intervention. My last unemployment check was in the bank. I was desperate. Rent was due. The ad said cash paid at the end of the day.

The perfect job!

Staging homes means showing your best angle. The same principle applies in making a certain kind of movie. Turns out a “fluffer” doesn’t arrange decorative pillows on a couch.

They arrange other soft, round-ish objects.

The job isn’t hard. Er, I mean, it is — it’s about being hard. Or, well… helping other people to be hard.

Oh, man…

And that’s the other problem. A man. No, not one of the stars on the movie set. Will Lotham – my high school crush. The owner of the house where we’re filming. Illegally. In a vacation rental.

By the time the cops show up, what I thought was just a great house staging gig turned into a nightmare involving pictures of me with an undressed naked star, Will rescuing me from an arrest, and a humiliating lesson in my own naivete.

My job turned out to be so much harder than I expected. But you know what’s easier than I ever imagined?

Having all my dreams come true.

“Do you use the proper terms for everything, Mallory?” He makes an inarticulate sound as I peel the gauze off the cut, wiping gently. “You call your pretty place a vulva, right? And you use the word vagina.”

“'Pretty place'?”

He shrugs.

“And yes, I do. Vulva and vagina. And then there’s the clitoris,” I say primly.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“A clitoris. Never heard of it.”

I freeze and look down at him. Bright eyes meet mine. Is he serious?

“The clitoris is a nerve cluster above the opening to the vagina,” I begin, taking a breath to continue my impromptu human sexuality lecture, because when a man tells you they don’t know what a clitoris is, you educate them immediately.

For the sisterhood. All the women Will is going to sleep with from here on out will thank me later.

He starts to laugh. I’m so tempted to pour the small bottle of isopropyl alcohol directly on his wound, but I’m a kind, compassionate woman, so instead I dab it on with a swab.

“OW!” he bellows.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry at all.”

“I’m sorry for your sex partners that you have no idea what a clitoris is, Will.”

“I know what it is. And my tongue knows how to find one. Blindfolded.”

“Why would you blindfold your tongue?”

For a limited time!

💕 Always double-check the price 💕

💕 Listen to this AudioBook for free! Click here to learn more 💕

AN ALL-NEW STANDALONE FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR JULIA KENT

One hundred years ago when I was young and impulsive (okay, it was five, alright? Five years ago…) I let my boyfriend take, let's just say...compromising pictures of me.

(Shut up. It made sense at the time).

Surprise! The sleazy back-stabbing jerk posted them on a website and, well, you can guess what happened. That’s right.

I’m a meme. A really gross one.

You're seen the pictures. And if you haven't – don’t ask. And don't look!

As face recognition software online improves, I get tagged on social media whenever anyone shares my pictures. You try getting a thousand notifications a day, all of them pictures of your tatas.

So. I’m done.

It’s time for revenge. Let him see how it feels! But how do you get embarrassingly intimate pictures of your jerkface ex who double-crossed you five years ago?

Especially when he’s a member of the U.S.House of Representatives now?

Getting sweet between the sheets with a congressman is pretty much every political roadie’s dream, right? I’m one in a crowd.

Except to this day, he swears he didn’t do it. Pursued me for months after I dumped him five years ago. Begged me to take him back.

And I almost did it. Almost. I was weak and stupid and in love a hundred years ago.

Okay. Fine. Five.

But I still have the upper hand. Second chance romance has all the emotional feels, doesn’t it?

I can’t wait to punch him in the feels.

All I need to do is sleep with him once, take some hot-and-sweaty pics of him in... delicate positions, and bring him down. That’s it. Nothing more.

Pictures first. Revenge after. And then I win.

At least, that’s how it was supposed to happen. But then I did something worse than sexting.

I fell in love with him. Again.

AN ALL-NEW STANDALONE FROM NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR JULIA KENT

I’m not too proud to admit that finding Mr. Right involves swiping right. Right? Welcome to dating in avocado toastland.

Here I am, on my first blind date, ever, courtesy of a smartphone app and my two annoying best friends.

So what is Chris “Fletch” Fletcher doing, walking across the room, looking at his phone like he’s pattern matching a picture to find a real person he’s never met before?

Oh.

Oh, no.

The guy I drop-kicked in seventh grade cannot be my blind date. The guy who earned me this infernal nickname.

That’s right.

Feisty.

—

More from New York Times bestselling author Julia Kent as Fiona “Feisty” Gaskill gets her chance at love – drop-kick included.

I never thought my perp walk would lead to true love.

Then again, I never thought I’d be arrested on RICO charges and hauled away in zip ties on camera for the world to see, minutes after closing the most amazing deal of my career.

And all of it in front of my biggest viral, billionaire wunderkind Ian McRory.

I am broke.

I am disgraced.

I am alone.

I am a sucker.

But the worst part? I have to go back to my hometown and live in my bedroom filled with relics from my childhood.

Lisa Frank never made me so mad before.

Just when I needed a rescue, I got one — in the form of help from my biggest rival.

He can’t bring back my money.

He certainly can’t bring back my reputation or my pride.

But there’s one thing he can bring back to me.

A sense of hope.

Maybe even love.

Ian sees something in me no one else does, and he’s relentless about making me see it, too. As we grow closer, I’m starting to see that while my entire life used to be a lie, the truth is staring me in the present — and it’s a truth I like very, very much, hot eyes and gorgeous smile and all.

But I have to be careful.

I can’t be too —

That’s right.

Hasty.

The final book in the USA Today bestselling Do-Over Series (Fluffy, Perky, Feisty), as Mallory's sister, Hastings "Hasty" Monahan gets her turn at a happily ever after that starts off with an arrest.

Hers.

And ends with a surprisingly cheesy happily ever after.

💕To be released July 28, 2020 💕

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire). She lives in New England with her husband and three children in a household where the toilet seat is never, ever, down