Saturday, February 14, 2015

Book Tour for Beneath This Ink by Meghan March (Review & GIVEAWAY)

I've always been drawn to gritty and bad boy heroes who have a heart of gold and got just that with Beneath This Ink by Meghan March, the second installment in the Beneath series.   You'll also get my impressions of this book along with a brief interview with Ms. March. Make sure to fill out the form for the chance to win a $150 GC to the tattoo parlor of your choice too.

TSP:  Which actor/actress do you see portraying your book's hero/heroine?
MM:  I would love to see Chris Hemsworth covered in tats. He’d make an excellent Con. For Vanessa, I’d really like Kate Bosworth.
TSP:  Why are readers obsessed with bad boys?
MM:  I think readers are obsessed with bad boys because of the lure of the forbidden. As a girl who spent her teenage years (and beyond) fascinated by the bad boy species, I think it’s the disregard for the opinion of others and the sheer magnitude of self-confidence. What’s sexier than a man who is absolutely unapologetic about being exactly who he is?
TSP:  Can you describe your ideal book hero?
MM:  My ideal book hero would be one who is tough as nails on the outside—a man’s man—and yet completely attuned to the woman he’s in love with. I love the idea of a man being able to take on the world, and yet not afraid to worship his woman.

I’ve always known she was too good for me, but that never stopped me from wanting her.
And then I finally had her for one night.
A night I don’t remember.
I figured I’d blown my shot.
But now she’s walked back into my life, and this time, I have the upper hand. I want my second chance.
Will she be able to see the man beneath this ink?




Not having read the first book in the Beneath series, I was worried I wouldn't be able to fully enjoy this one.  But with the delectable Con, who's a bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks, I completely gobbled up this story from the first page to the last.  In Ms. March's hands she's crafted a cheer-worthy hero full of emotional baggage you can't help but love even as you blush at all his dirty talk.  I just wish the heroine Vanessa had been as appealing as she's snotty, up-tight, and judgmental early on.  Luckily she starts redeeming herself as the story progresses and they start digging deeper into each other's pasts and deal with their emotional baggage.

Con grew up in a foster home and never felt he was good enough or a part of anything, which made for a lot of loneliness and anger.  Vanessa was his idea of perfection but she always put him down until one unforgettable night.  At least it was unforgettable to her and which left her running to protect her heart as she knew he could never be anything to her.  Both of them went on with their lives with the other not far from their thoughts though.  They're back in each other's world and as he has emotional baggage, so too does she as she's always struggled to be perfect and live up to familial expectations.  Wanting to prove herself once and for all will require Con's help which will put him in very close contact with her again.  The past and present continue to batter their burgeoning relationship though as outside prejudices and internal doubts keep them from their HEA.  Danger from a well-hidden villain also keeps them from their HEA and the tension riding high in this engaging story.  There's lots of steam too as the sexual tension is off-the-charts between Vanessa and Con.  Their encounters crackle with electricity and with sexual banter that you can cut with a knife.  As they grow closer they start letting their guards down as well as their emotional walls.  They start to realize they're more alike than they thought which leads to some endearing and heartfelt moments.

All in all this was an engaging story with the perfect blend of emotional intensity and steamy sexual encounters.  The characters, both primary and secondary, are memorable and dramatically depicted to fully immerse me in their outcomes.  Con was drool-worthy and my quintessential hero and I look forward to any glimpse I can get of him in the future.  I'll definitely go back to read more of where he came from and plan on falling in love even more.  There are other characters with stories clamoring to be told and I look forward to where Ms. March will take us next.

My rating for this is a B+

*I got this book from the author for review in exchange for my honest opinion.


Beneath This Mask
He loves me, and he doesn’t even know my real name.
The limelight that follows him could expose everything I’m hiding. But even knowing the risks, I can’t force myself to stay away.
I’m going to break his heart, but mine will shatter right along with it.
Will we lose it all when I reveal what’s beneath this mask?

“Con, can you take this walk-in?” Delilah called from the front of the shop.
I pushed back from the desk and shoved my hair away from my face. It was too damn long. I needed to get it cut, but the girl I’d been going to for the last year had basically fallen onto my cock last week, and I wasn’t going to be letting her near my jugular with scissors any time soon. She wasn’t enamored of my, ‘I don’t go there twice unless there’s something worth going back for’ mentality. I probably could have phrased it a little nicer, but why give the girl false hope when I’d all but forgotten her as soon as I’d slid the condom off my dick? I didn’t have time for bullshit, and I didn’t like to be misunderstood when I spoke. So I was firmly in the ‘tell it how it is’ camp. Women didn’t seem to appreciate my particular brand of honesty. Mostly because it didn’t line up with what they wanted to hear. Not my problem.
I stood and headed for the door of the break room. Time to meet my newest walk-in.
If I had to tattoo one more “YOLO” on some idiot kid, I might hang up my tattoo gun and call it a day. Thoughts like that made me feel older than thirty-one.
I scanned the shop, looking for my next client. If I hadn’t learned a hell of a long time ago how to lock down my reactions, I might’ve missed a step.
It was no kid.
And if she wanted YOLO tattooed on that body, it’d be a crime against nature. Anger flared within me at the sight of her. I might not remember the night we’d spent together, but I sure as hell remembered the morning after when I’d interrupted her escape from my bedroom. We’d thrown words like grenades, and it was a miracle we’d both walked away without bloodshed. Even with that memory vividly replaying in my head, I still had to tell my dick to calm the fuck down.
Vanessa Fucking Frost was still out of my league. Hell, out of my fucking universe. She’d been too good for me in high school, she’d been too good for me two years ago, and as sure as she was standing in my shop today, she was still too damn good for me. And I bet she’d be the first person to say it. I still couldn’t figure out how she’d ended up in my bed that night. Not because my bed didn’t see action with rich chicks—it saw plenty—but not like her. Classic elegance like Grace Kelly. Joy Leahy used to make me watch To Catch a Thief with her, and that’s exactly who Vanessa reminded me of.
Her platinum blond hair was twisted up into some fancy ass bun, and her tan skirt suit clung to her curves in all the right places. One perfectly manicured hand toyed with the gold bracelet on her wrist. My jeans tightened uncomfortably at the peek of a lacy pink bra from beneath her pink silk blouse.
My reaction to her pissed me off.
Do you know what it’s like to finally get something you’ve always wanted, but not remember a single fucking detail?
It ate away it me. The not knowing. Part of me wanted to tell her to get the hell out of my shop, but the other part of me wanted to drag her upstairs, strip her naked, and tie her to my bed so this time she couldn’t leave until I was damn good and ready. Which might be never. And that thought—that weakness—infuriated me.
“Never thought I’d see you darken my doorway again. What can I do for you, princess?” A mocking edge colored my words.
Her nervous twirling of her bracelet halted, and her blue eyes, several shades lighter and more vibrant than my own, met mine. Her pink tongue darted out over her perfectly plump bottom lip slicked with gloss. This nervous, off-balance look of hers raised all my red flags. I was used to the quiet, sexy-as-all-hell confidence that had always drawn me in. At least until she’d opened her mouth that infamous morning and told me what she’d really thought of me.
“I need a few moments of your time.”
I raised an eyebrow. Now that was a new development. She’d never sought me out.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, if you could spare me five minutes.”
Some of her words from that morning, which I might as well have tattooed on my skin, came back to me: Do this again? Are you crazy? I must have been insane to do this the first time. This can never happen again. And no one can ever know. No one.
And now she wanted a favor?
“In this shop, the only way a woman gets my time is if she’s getting a tattoo, or is on her knees or her back.” I knew my answer was crude, but that was what she undoubtedly expected from me. And I hated to disappoint.
A flush of color hit her cheekbones, and I wondered for a brief second whether she was remembering what it had been like to be on her knees in front of me. Fuck. I wish I remembered. Then I could just fucking move on.
I waited for the clipped go to hell and an abrupt exit. But instead of turning and walking out, she surprised me.
“A tattoo it is, then.”





Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had.


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