Saturday, March 26, 2016

Blog Tour: Soaked by Stacy Keswick

Title: Soaked
Author: Stacy Kestwick
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Water’s Edge (Book 2)

Having hope was her weakness.
If Sadie Mullins hadn’t started to believe in love again, hadn’t let herself fall for him, she wouldn’t be feeling this way.
Wouldn’t have her heart breaking.
Wouldn’t regret meeting West Montgomery.
The cocky bastard should have left her alone, let her forget about him.
Let her move on with her life.
Of course, he didn’t.
That could have been the end of it.
Of course, it wasn’t.
Damn hope.
*This is Book 2 in the Water’s Edge Series and is a continuation of Sadie and West’s story that began in Wet. This is not a standalone.*

4 Stars
Review by Lisa Kane

When Wet ended on that tidal wave of a cliffy, I was furious with West Montgomery! He tangled himself up with his ex whatever she is, Aubrey and poor Sadie Mullins had had enough. I have to admit, I did too. West could sail off on his boat, the Vitamin Sea and never come back.

But I have to admit, that there was more to his story than we readers knew. When he returned (after Sadie saw him carrying Aubrey on to the dock) he tried to get a hold of Sadie. But she was having no parts of it. She was leaving for a photo shoot the next day and was not going to let him stomp on her heart again.

West Montgomery. 
The man who still made my heart beat faster at just the sight of him.

But leaving him behind as a little harder than she thought. Although the hot photographer she met on the plane, Nick, helped make the flight there fun and full of flirty naughtiness. Imagine her surprise when she finds out that Grady hired him to work on the same shoot. He is sexy and talented and self assured. Could there be a little paradise found for these two?

I just knew Sadie's ex Asher would rise from the pond scum and he didn't disappoint. As if she doesn't have enough heartache going on, he more than proves that he is filth and Sadie is well rid of him. But is she rid of him?

"He used me. He took what wasn't his to share and gave it to everyone. Destroyed my trust. Sent me running from my home. I thought he broke my heart."

Can West explain why he seems to bend over backwards for Aubrey? Will Sadie give him a chance to explain and if she does, will it be enough?

I didn't want to hurt again. Could you love without risk? I didn't think so. 

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The bartender was my new best friend. I frowned. Well, after Rue. And Theo. My third best-est friend. Because she kept pouring me these great margaritas.
I normally hated margaritas.
But Alison? My third best-est friend? She made some damn good ones. And there were so many flavors! Lime was okay. Mango was better. Watermelon wasn’t that great, but I drank it anyway because I didn’t want to hurt its feelings. I was almost finished with blood orange and it might have been my favorite, but I still had two flavors to go, so who knew?
The only thing I needed to decide on was whether pink lemonade or pineapple was next.
Wasn’t pineapple supposed to make cum taste sweeter?
Wait — that only worked if the guy drank it. Right?
I couldn’t remember now.
And it was fucking glorious.
Alison was my new third best-est friend and blood orange margaritas were the shit.
Best. Night. Ever.
I swung my head around when I heard the stool next to me being slid across the terracotta-tiled floor and almost lost my balance.
But Nick caught me.
Niiiiiiick. He looked nice tonight. Tight, dark shirt. Fitted khakis. I could kind of see the outline of his bulge against the fabric.
It wasn’t bad.
West had a nice bulge too.
I wrinkled my forehead. No. I shook my head. No.
Not thinking about him tonight.
Hey! Nick was here. Maybe he could drink the pineapple margarita and help me remember. I could get the pink lemonade one then.
I grinned up at him, and poked him in the chest with my finger.
“Alison!” I yelled. “This guy—” poke “—needs a pineapple margarita. And I’ll take the lemonade one next.”
She raised an eyebrow and looked at Nick for confirmation.
Nick with the bulge.
He leaned closer to me. “Why pineapple?”
I rolled my eyes. “Because I can’t remember. And this will solve the problem!”
“Can’t remember what?”
“If it’ll make you taste sweeter.”
He stared at me, then coughed. “Do you mean—”
I leaned over and patted his lap. “Down here.”

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I’m a Southern girl who firmly believes mornings should be outlawed. My perfect day would include lounging on a hammock with a good book, carbohydrates, and the people around me randomly breaking into choreographed song and dance routines. It would not include bacon, cleaning, or anything requiring patience.
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