Jessica Peterson began reading romance to escape the decidedly unromantic awkwardness of her teenage years. Having found solace in the likes of Rhett Butler and Mr. Darcy, it wasn’t long before she began creating tall, dark, and handsome heroes of her own.
A graduate of Duke University, Jessica worked at an investment bank before leaving to pursue her writerly dreams. She lives with her husband, the tall, dark, and handsome Mr. Peterson, in Charlotte, North Carolina.
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As romance readers, I think it’s safe to say we all have a picture in our heads of THE dream guy. You know, the kind of guy who curls your toes and makes your stomach hurt he’s so hot/alpha/bad/good/wealthy/well dressed.
The type of guy you think you’d love to end up with. Maybe you like tall guys. Maybe it’s ambitious guys, or fratty guys, or guys with an appreciation for fine wine and five star travel. Maybe it’s football players (not gonna lie, I went through a Clay Matthews phase), or guys who wear glasses, smart guys, nice guys, biker guys, guys’ guys.
Whoever this guy is, he’s in your head, and you think you could be pretty happy with this dream babe. Who wouldn’t love a hot billionaire with a serious case of kink? (I also went through a Christian Gray phase, like the 3 billion other women on this planet.)
Enter real life. More often than not, we don’t end up with dream babe – and that can be a really, really good thing. Because what we think will make us happy is sometimes much different from what – and who! – actually does.
Maybe that billionaire is hot, but he doesn’t make you laugh, and he doesn’t eat carbs – total deal breaker. Maybe that biker dude is great in bed, but he’s not so great at remembering your birthday, and he isn’t the greatest conversationalist.
That dream babe doesn’t fill you up and turn you inside out the way a real guy – your guy – can.
Sophia, the heroine in my latest release, THE MILLIONAIRE ROGUE, faces such a dilemma. Raised on Debrett’s – the who’s who of the British aristocracy – Sophia believes her dream dude is a Marquess with ten thousand a year. She’s set her sights on the Marquess of Withington, as he’s got some pretty sweet sideburns, and an even sweeter castle.
But when she accidentally becomes embroiled in a dangerous plot with Thomas Hope, Sophia begins to question her marital ambitions. Thomas is a banker, a foreigner, an orphan; everything, in short, Sophia doesn’t think she wants.
Only they have a smashing time together – and can’t seem to keep their hands off one another. He may not have a title, or a castle, but Thomas makes Sophia laugh; makes her feel a thousand delicious, thrilling, terrifying things.
In the end, Sophia must choose between her “dream” babe, and the real man who makes her truly happy.
To win a copy of THE MILLIONAIRE ROGUE, tell me about the real men in your life – and how they are so much better than a dream babe!
In an age of stately decorum, the Hope Diamond was a source of delicious intrigue—and a font of unimaginable adventure…
Though not of noble birth, Thomas Hope has a skill in banking that’s made him one of the richest, most trusted men in London. Still, he keeps his dubious past hidden. So when an old acquaintance calls on Hope to help acquire the infamous French Blue Diamond, he’s desperate to be discreet. He never expects that his biggest concern shouldn’t be losing his reputation, but his heart…
Sophia Blaise is determined to make a brilliant match with this season’s most eligible, most titled bachelor, but her true passion has been ignited by the incredible stories she hears while secretly transcribing the memoirs of a notorious Madam. After a night of clandestine writing ends with Sophia caught up in a scandalous adventure of her own—with an alluring banker—she begins to question whether she’s suited to the proper life she’s always known…
Caught up in a thrilling exploit and unexpected romance, Sophia must make a choice between what her head knows is safe and what her heart desperately desires, before both slip from her grasp forever…
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Sophia let out a breath. If Hope wasn’t holding her up with his weight, her knees would have definitely buckled. Good God, never did a man look so delicious in his looming as Mr. Thomas Hope.
“Sophia,” he repeated.
She ran her tongue along her bottom lip, suddenly alive with sensation.
The words came before she could stop them, a defense against his questions; a plea of desire.
“Do it again.”
Thomas paused. “I beg your pardon?”
“Kiss me. Like you did for the Princess. Do it again.”
His eyes searched hers, moving from one to the other. With every sense she implored him to action, tilting her chin so that her lips waited just beneath the soft curve of his own. The air between them tightened, pulling them slowly towards one another.
Sophia vaguely heard Thomas’s hat dropping to the ground beside her; and then his hand was cupping her face and his hair was falling into her eyes and his skin brushed against hers. He took her lips with his own, an urgent but luxuriously careful caress that drew a moan from the back of her throat.
He moved ardently over her now; no time, no need for introductions or assurances, just desire, sure and swift, beating between them.
Taking her bottom lip in his teeth, he opened her mouth to him, his tongue sliding along the slick insides of her lips. In her veins her blood pounded.
For the second time that night she surrendered to the ruin of Hope’s expert touch, his hands and his shoulders and dear God this kiss.
It was her curiosity that did it, the challenge that sparked in her eyes.
That, and her damnably luscious lips. While Miss Sophia Blaise wasn’t entirely guileless – she had, after all, helped him swindle the French Blue from Caroline’s grasp – the debutante-cum-actress hadn’t the slightest idea how alluring she could be.
Especially with that bottom lip caught between her teeth.
Then there was her sudden, impulsive request. Do it again. Kiss me.
Good Lord. What was a decent man to do but oblige the lady, and oblige her most thoroughly?
As for his fear that he’d forgotten how to kiss – it boded well, didn’t it, if Sophia asked for another?
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew she was using the kiss as a weapon against him, a way of avoiding questions she quite clearly did not wish to answer. Her presence in La Reinette’s chamber was, to be fair, none of his business.
But when it came to Sophia, Hope did not feel like being fair. Fair was for business, for money, for duels. For cards and the races. For ledgers and war and the shops on Bond Street, the grocer, the steward. Fair was predictable and dull.
No. There was certainly nothing fair about Sophia; her egregious loveliness, her scent. There was nothing fair about the way she stoked his growing desire for her with every word she said, her unexpected bravado and the full, honest sound of her laughter.
He would find out what she was up to with La Reinette, come Hell or high water.
Just after he kissed Miss Blaise senseless. Yes. He would find out then.
This time he held nothing back. He kissed her with a passion that was at once foreign and intoxicating, driving deeper, softer, the more of her he possessed and discovered the more of her he wanted. He felt wild, his body and his heart pushing him forward, his hands cupping her face as he coaxed her lips apart with his tongue.
He’d forgotten just how lovely kissing could be.
Check out what's up for grabs.
- 1 copy of The Millionaire Rogue
- Tell me about the real men in your life – and how they are so much better than a dream babe!
- US/CA shipping ONLY.
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