Posted in #Book, #Giveaway, Adult, Author, blog, Book, Romance, Silver Dagger Scriptorium Tours, Tour, Writer

Backseat with the Billionaire by Lilah May – Book Tour + #Giveaway

06/07/17

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Backseat with the Billionaire
by Lilah May
Genre: Adult Billionaire Romance
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She just wants to use him for revenge.

Him.
A billionaire MMA fighter whose cocky smile and washboard abs make wet
panties drop left and right.
She thinks she wants him for
one amazing night out and end it.
Boy, did she think
wrong.
He’s about to teach her how much more she really
wants.

 

LISA
Finding out your husband’s cheating is hard.
Finding out it’s with a college girl is
even harder.
The easy part? Retribution: beating him blue
with a baseball bat and kicking him to the curb.
But it’s still not enough.
So when Bobby Carter, fresh out
of college, blows back into town with all the intensity of a
hurricane, I decide I’m not done.
Bobby’s everything my
ex-husband is not. Sexy, aggressive, and intense.
Like melt me into a puddle intense.
Who cares if I used to babysit him?
He’s a grown man, now. And I
mean, FULLY grown.
All I wanted was a night
out with him, but one taste and I’m addicted.

*

BOBBY
When Lisa Howard finally gets rid of her cheating husband, I want to take
her right then and there.
I got rid of that abusive bastard and built a billion dollar empire all for her.
Nothing could satisfy my ravenous hunger but taking a bite of that sweet
little thing.
So when she offers herself up to me for one night, I’m not about to refuse.
She’s nothing like the sorority bimbos at Northfield U.
She is a real woman.
Sexy, mature, and an ass so fine I would give up my billions just for
a taste.
But I know a taste won’t be enough and
one night too short for all the dirty things I want to do to her and
that deliciously curvy body.
She’ll be mine, but not just for tonight. Forever.
This is a full-length, standalone, steamy 18+ romance. No cheating or
cliffhangers, and definitely a wonderful Happily Ever After
guaranteed.
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 bb- excerpt
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LISA

I had no clue what I’d do.

It’s the kind of situation you never plan

for, never expect to have to plan for. And

even if you try, even if you think you know

what you’ll do or how you’ll act, you find

out that the truth is:

You really don’t know yourself at all.

I wait, sitting in that old ratty armchair of

his. The orange one that was now stained

brown. The one he refused to throw out no

matter how much it reeked of alcohol and

cigarettes.

The pictures are still on the coffee table. I

looked them over carefully, in some twisted

morbid curiosity. The girl couldn’t be a day

over 18 and she seemed to be enjoying

herself, but in some fake, exaggerated way

like she was in a porn video or she learned

how to act when getting fucked from a porn

video. And of course, it was missionary, the

boring bastard.

I’m not thinking about anything, not

planning, not scheming. I’m not even angry.

For the first time in a long while, my head is

completely clear. Like some weird

meditation, all I do is sit and wait.

He strolls through the front door,

whistling a tune. The balls on him. Relaxed

and casual, as if he didn’t just come back

from fucking his teenage whore.

He looks at me once but doesn’t look

twice. Even though, across my lap is a silver

aluminum baseball bat. The same bat that

we’ve kept by the front door for our

protection, for just in case.

Just in case of a robbery. Just in case of a

home invasion. Just in case my scumbag

husband decides to cheat on me.

All those years, it sat unused. Until today.

I don’t know what was the last straw. The

whistling, the nonchalant way he ignored me

or maybe it was that shit-eating grin he had

plastered on his smug face.

But one second I’m sitting in the living

room and the next, I’m tackling him like a

football linebacker. Head down, shoulders

square, straight into his unsuspecting back.

He pitches forward, quite comically,

crashing to the ground in a heap. All

accompanied by a satisfactory crunch.

And as I stood over him, something dark

and violent emerged, something that wasn’t

so clean and pure. Something that I kept

buried and hidden for years as the perfect

housewife, the perfect stay at home mom.

The funny thing is, he didn’t think I

would do it. The whole time, the asshole

looked up at me and just laughed, smirking

in my face. That is, until the first swing of the

bat came down on him.

And goddamn, if it didn’t feel amazing.

For me. Not for him.

I can still picture that deliciously

depraved moment when that cheesy smile of

his gave way to a look of pain and confusion.

Ohhh, god! This was it! That utterly

satisfying feeling.

Like the good fuck he was never able to

give me.

As I kept raining down blow after blow,

his disbelief quickly turned into one of

horror, crying for me to stop. But I didn’t. It

only added to my wonderful, cathartic

experience. And I savored every single

wince, every little whimper, feeding off his

pain.

Finally, he could feel what I felt. All the

abuse, all the suffocating agony from living

under his oppressive rule. Finally, I could

give it all back to him.

Let me give you a piece of advice: it’s

unhealthy to repress that much shit. So don’t.

Unless one day, you might end up beating

your douchebag husband half to death.

After a good solid minute of getting his

ass beat, he finally snatches an opportunity to

escape. As I take a breather, he scrambles

towards the front door, running out onto the

lawn.

But he doesn’t get far.

He’s not getting away. Not today.

Cause right now, there’s a fucking animal

inside me.

I chase him down and knocking him to

the grass, continuing my assault with the bat.

I can’t seem to stop myself. Not that I want to.

One part of me is filled with wrathful

vengeance and the other looks on a spectator,

as if I’m watching a horror movie.

I really like horror movies.

Suddenly, big fat hairy arms wrap around

my waist, pulling me away from Donald.

Donald my husband: The liar. The

cheater. The piece of shit.

God, I fucking hate him.

Wrapped up in those thick arms, I

struggle helplessly, flailing like a bug on it’s

back. The man who’s gathered me up in a

massive bearhug is Robert Carter, our nextdoor

neighbor, with his wife Patty kneeling

next to the crying Donald.

Crying. Literally. Big crocodile tears.

What a disgusting faker, trying to squeeze

sympathy out of our neighbors.

I didn’t hit him all that hard. I think.

**

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Hi everyone! I’m Lilah May (well, you already know that).
I write steamy romance that will touch your heart (and your body
Ok, maybe it sounds a little corny but it’s true!
I make sure my books are full of hot and dirty scenes but still has
that oh so important warm sentimental love.
Anywho, I’m just a girl with too many dirty thoughts going through her head
and I thought I’d share them with all of you!
Though I have to warn you: be prepared!
These stunning alpha male heroes I write about are straight out of my
fantasies: impossibly sexy, crazy dominant, and 110% guaranteed to
make your knees weak.
So you better sit down, grab a towel and leave all your inhibitions at
the door (along with your panties) because my books will make you
melt and squirm with HEA love!

 

Side note: I like my cookies chewy and I’ve learned way too late in my
life that I can microwave them for ten seconds to make them chewy
again. I don’t hate on crunchy, though. Cookies are cookies lol.
Oh, and also I’m a nurse so when I get my hands on a real good book,
things can get incredibly dangerous! (That’s a joke for all you
stuffy wet blankets. I would never risk my patients. I love them!)
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Follow the tour HERE
for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!
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Author:

Tracey A Wood is a new exciting author of Paranormal suspense, Romance and Urban Fantasy novels with a captivating twist

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