Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Book Blitz for Sugar, We’re Going Down by M.H. Soars (GIVEAWAY)

Rockstar romances are among my favorites and is what draws me to this tale teeming with sexual tension as two strong-willed people engage in a sexy tug-of-war.  Keep reading to get a tempting taste of Sugar, We're Going Down by M.H. Soars, with sparks flying at a friends' wedding, then add it to your bookshelf.  In honor of this second installment in the Love Me, I'm Famous series make sure to fill out the form below for the chance to win a $25 Amazon GC too!

The long-awaited story of the incorrigible bad boy rockstar and the feisty woman who brought him down to his knees.
They say nothing compares to the first kiss. That sentence needs to be amended. Nothing compares to the first kiss from Oliver Best. I knew in the moment our lips touched that the cocky rockstar would be forever imprinted in my mind. I also knew that loving him would be my destruction. And yet, love him I did.
Oliver Best, former rockstar, heir to one of the largest fortunes in Great Britain, and the country’s most infamous bad boy.
Saylor Blue Carter, college drop-out, lead singer of a struggling band, not a penny to her name.
When they met, it was hate at first sight. Oliver was an arrogant ass. Saylor was a cold hearted bitch. These were the thoughts they had for each other. Until that kiss. That life altering, earth shattering, nuclear kiss. They knew what that kiss meant. They knew anything between them would be explosive and without hope for a happily ever after. So they vowed to forget, they tried to stay away. But now with their best friends’ wedding approaching, all bets are off.
*This is Part One of a 3-Part story.


London – October 2015
It’s too early to be dealing with this shit. My head is about to split in two, I didn’t have time to eat or even grab a cup of coffee, and to make my morning even more hellish, I’m horny as fuck. The image of a siren with green and blue hair, and a mouth as sinful and perverse as the goddess Venus comes into my mind. My cock strains against my jeans and I grip the steering wheel hard, turning my knuckles white. The moment I saw her singing on that stage, I felt the pull, an immediate attraction that had me craving her body like a junkie craves his next fix.
A car cuts me off and I hit the brakes, narrowly missing the moron. I slam my fist against the horn and don’t let it up until my annoyance subsides. I switch lanes and when I pass him, I make sure to lower my window and flip the driver off. Then I stomp on the gas pedal.
I love my car. It’s an Aston Martin Vanquish, the greatest fucking car in history, and it was the first thing I bought with my own money. I’d never had a problem spending my parents fortune before, but it wasn’t until I started making my own that I realized how good it felt to not depend on them anymore, to finally be able to cut the strings. No more forced monthly dinners, no more pretending I give a shit about their high-society friends and appearances.
As I approach Sebastian’s place, I grapple with my brain for an idea to help him out of the messed up situation he’s in. If the paparazzi see me, they will never leave. More likely, they will call their friends and we’ll have a mob gather in front of his apartment. I know I’m the reason they’re stalking my friend, I don’t want to make matters worse.
I park on the street parallel to Sebastian’s, in front of the town house that is directly behind his place. If I’m not mistaken, I believe there’s a small garden at the back. If Liv can jump off his kitchen balcony into that yard, she’ll be home free. I’m aware I’m betting on a lot of ‘ifs’ right now. I stare at the house in front of me, trying to guess what kind of people live in there.
A cab stops ahead, catching my attention. I squint behind my sunglasses, trying to peer inside the black car, but with the tinted windows it’s impossible. A minute later, the door opens, and I see a mane of multicolored hair emerge. I suck in my breath. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Her hair is even more luscious in the daylight and it falls in waves down her back. It’s the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen and my fingers itch to touch it, to ascertain that those locks are as soft as they look. I let my gaze travel down her body and I commit every single detail to memory. She’s wearing dark jeans so tight, they don’t leave much to my imagination. She has on some kind of flouncy, asymmetric black top that peeks out of her cropped leather jacket. But what seals my fate is the pair of over the knee high-heeled boots on her feet. I forget the humiliation of last night. I must have her. I won’t quit until she’s under me, writhing in pleasure.
She doesn’t glance at my car, even though she’s now standing right in front of it. Her gaze is fixated on the house I had been looking at myself a minute ago. She hesitates for a brief moment before she walks towards the front door. I manage to take my mind out of the gutter in time to realize what she’s about to do. Apparently, she’s here to save her friend, and somehow, came up with the same plan I did. A weird feeling unfurls in the pit of my stomach, something foreign that I quickly dismiss as hunger pains.
I exit the vehicle and make my presence known. She hears the noise and turns to me, narrowing her eyes. I remove my sunglasses and recognition finally hits her expression.
“You! What are you doing here?"
Fuck me! Her voice is like soft, rich, velvet. I didn’t get to appreciate it properly last night while she was screaming at me. Smooth and raspy, it’s even more lethal than her mouth.
Her tone is indignant which means she’s still mad at me for my bold proposition at the karaoke bar. I grin at her as I take a few steps closer. Her porcelain skin is flawless without any make-up. Instincts are telling me to keep walking until our chests touch and I can suck her plump lips into my mouth. But I can’t indulge in my crazy fantasies right now. My impulsiveness is what created this situation.
“I’m here to help your friend out,” I say.
I cross my arms and stare at the stupid man in front of me, unable to decide if he’s serious or not. The few times I’d caught him on television giving an interview, I’d pegged him to be a snobby jackass. Last night just served to prove me right.
His striking, almost surreal, blue eyes are glued to my face, searching for something I can’t fathom. It’s almost as if he’s trying to invade my mind, peer into my thoughts. His blond hair is messy, like he’s just run his fingers through it without a thought. I don’t want to concede, I don’t want to acknowledge it, but he is a sexy motherfucker. Tall and wiry, with a face carved to be on the cover of a magazine, and that arrogant mouth, he has serious potential to be my next huge mistake.
“I think you’ve done enough damage,” I say.
He moves closer, almost invading my space, but I don’t step back, I don’t want to show that his nearness bothers me. He’ll never know how he’s affecting me right now. I refuse to drop my stare from his electric eyes, tilting my head is the only way. He’s so damn tall.
“You know, this is as much your fault as it’s mine. If you had been more accommodating..."
My jaw drops, a reflex on my part when I hear complete and utter bullshit. Quickly, I realize Oliver likes to play games, mess with people’s heads. What he doesn’t know is that he’s met his match. I take a step forward, a movement he wasn’t counting on, if the flexing of his jaw is any indication. “You’re saying that if I had dropped down onto my knees and taken your dick into my mouth right then and there, no one would have recognized you?"
I’m close enough that I can see his pupils dilate and hear his sharp intake of breath. But he calls my bluff and leans down, until his nose almost touches mine, until his lips are close enough that I can smell his minty toothpaste. “I can’t undo the past, but the picture you just painted sounds a lot like an offering."
My heart is flittering like there’s a hummingbird trapped in my chest. But I won’t back down, I won’t step away. I’ve gone through more shit in my life than Oliver can possibly imagine. This stand-off is nothing.
I smile. “Do you wanna hear a secret? I probably would have done more than suck you into oblivion last night if you hadn’t been so crass about it. I guess you’ll never know what it fee--"
Oliver crashes his lips against mine, cutting off my reply. His hand cups the back of my head, his fingers curl around my hair, keeping me in place as he devours my mouth. And I let him. Not only do I let him, but I join the feast because this is the best fucking kiss ever.




M. H. Soars always knew creative arts were her calling but not in a million years did she think she would become an author. With a background in fashion design she thought she would follow that path. But one day, out of the blue, she had an idea for a book. One page turned into ten pages, ten pages turned into a hundred, and before she knew, her first novel, The Prophecy of Arcadia, was born.
M. H. Soars resides in Florida with her husband and baby daughter. She is currently working on the Arcadian Wars series, and the Love Me, I’m Famous series. 


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