Title: Forgot to Tell You Something
Author: M.L. Broome
Genre: Steamy Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 10, 2020
Play by the Rules…
What do you get when you mix a dive bar, a worn velvet couch, and a discussion about goats?
The night I met Owen, obviously.
Talk about the unexpected. I sought out my private nook in Wicked Chucks, looking for a good view of the band. Instead, I got a front-row seat to the most delicious man I’ve ever seen.
He’s everything I never knew existed but being with him means breaking my own rules.
I didn’t invent the rules, but I play by them.
Rules maintain order.
Rules keep me focused.
Okay, rules suck, but they also keep me safe.
Now, I have a man who wants to toss out my rule book and create a new one. Together.
Some Rules are Meant to be Broken…
What do you get when you combine a tiny woman with a mile-wide stubborn streak, unwavering dating rules, and a hard-hitting passion?
My current situation.
I went to Wicked Chucks for the music, but I met Tally instead, right after she crashed through the balcony door and into my arms.
The first thing I realized? She’s a total klutz. The second? I was staring into the face of the woman I’d been eyeing all night, and she was even more beautiful up close. But when she started discussing blood oaths and goats, her coolness factor skyrocketed.
No joke, this woman is made for me. She’s gorgeous, funny, and sexy without trying.
Only one small problem—she has rules. Two of them are cake. The last one? That might be a problem.
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“I don’t want to know how many women you kissed to have a mouth that talented,” I purr, running my thumb along his lower lip.
“I had to be perfect for you.” Owen clears his throat, that low, gravelly chuckle rising up from his chest. He steps in between my legs, hiking my skirt up to very unladylike heights. Not that I’m complaining. “Enough about the type of men you won’t date. Tell me about the men you will.”
I tap my finger against my chin as I bite back a smile. “Let’s see. Well, he has to be smart.”
“Two plus two is four.”
I giggle, gliding my hands along the planes of his chest. “Genius level, sir. He also has to be kind.”
“I helped an old lady just last night.”
I guffaw, my eyes widening. “You’d better not be referring to when you picked my ass up off the ground, buddy.”
He’s got the most endearing smile. Some smiles are too perfect—the teeth sculpted and whitened to a neon glow—but his are straight and white without dipping into social media influencer territory. The dimples sure aren’t hurting his cause, either, or the way he catches his lower lip with his teeth. “Definitely not referring to you, although having you in my arms was the highlight of the evening.”
I’m tempted to look away from his intense stare, but opt to meet it head-on. My fingers slide down his torso, hooking in his jeans, and I feel his breath hitch. “Most importantly, he needs to know how to touch me.”
Oblivious to the crowd, Owen cups my ass, bringing me against him. His mouth drips kisses along my jaw as his fingers run the length of my spine. “I could spend years touching you and never get bored. Just say the word, and I’ll take you back to my hotel where I’ll spend the rest of the night exploring every inch of this delicious body.”
“I told you earlier, Tally. It’s a promise I’m dying to keep.” His hands frame my face and everything—all preconceived notions, past events, and broken hearts—fly out the window. “Tell me what you want, Tally.”
I curl my fingers into his belt loops, pulling him flush against me. I feel his erection straining, and it takes everything in my power to not slide my hand along him. “Kiss me like you can’t hold back a second longer.”
“I can’t.” He winds one hand into my hair, forcing my head back, as he nuzzles my neck, dropping kisses along my collarbone. His free hand fingers the zipper of my dress, tantalizing me with promises of all the places he’ll kiss if I only say the word.
He tongues a path up my neck, nipping at my earlobe, his breath hot against my skin. All the while, I feel his fingers lowering my zipper, pushing my limits, seeing how far I’ll let him travel in such a public space.
“Owen,” I murmur, my nails scratching along his arms as every nerve cell fires at once. He tightens his grip in my hair before capturing my lips. His tongue traces along the roof of my mouth at an achingly slow pace. Teasing me. Priming me. When I slide my tongue against his, eager to take part, he pulls my hair.
He wants complete control, and I want to give it to him. He delivers his delicious brand of torture until I’m heady with lust.
A drunken bar patron jostles us, jolting us from our moment. I run my tongue along my upper lip, holding Owen’s stormy gaze. “What am I going to do with you, Owen?” I manage to whisper.
He slides his hand under my dress, his thumb circling my clit, and I whimper in surprise. I’m never this forward, but with Owen, I don’t want him to stop.
Screw public indecency. Owen is so worth the ticket.
His mouth settles against my lips, while his fingers slide inside me, and I writhe against his hand, desperate for more. “Everything, Tally.”
M.L. Broome is a bohemian spirit with a New York edge. She writes high-octane contemporary romance with a touch of angst and plenty of steamy goodness. Her characters are bitingly real, earning their happily-ever-after only after some emotional ass-kicking and personal growth.
When M.L. isn’t writing or holding one-sided arguments with her characters (spoiler alert—they always win), she loves losing herself in nature on her North Carolina farm, one of her rescue buddies by her side. She adores dressing up and kicking back, a glass of whiskey with an equally stunning view, and experiences that make the soul—and senses—tingle.
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