Available Now: SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S WIFE by Julia Kent

 

Julia Kent’s hilarious SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S WIFE is available now! You don’t want to miss this next installment in her bestselling romantic comedy series.

About SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S WIFE

 

The New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series continues…

Snowbound. Sounds so romantic, with visions of cuddling before a roaring fire, hot chocolate spiked with brandy, and a secret elopement.

Wait. What? 
My fiancé’s father won’t stop trying to turn our pending wedding into a three-ring media circus so he can get free publicity for his family’s Fortune 500 company. My mother has decided she’s done with All Things Wedding and asks her teacup Chihuahua for mother-of-the-bride advice.
They’ve all gone certifiably mad.
Then the stress from the wedding puts my mother in the hospital, I scream at my future father-in-law in front of a camera crew and the video goes viral, and the romantic wedding that started with Andrew’s grand Pride and Prejudice proposal looks less like Jane Austen and more like Dostoyevsky.
So what do you do when you’re a fixer and you can’t fix something?
You give up on it.
Not on Andrew, silly.
The wedding.

Shopping for a CEO’s Wife is the 12th book in Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling Shopping series. As Shannon and Declan enjoy their newlywed bliss, Andrew’s father wants to exploit Amanda and Andrew’s nuptials, much to Amanda’s chagrin. Can she learn to stand up to her future father-in-law and fight for what’s right? But the real question is: will Spritzy the teacup Chihuahua end up being a flower girl?

Get your hands on SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S WIFE:

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Flash! Flash! Click! Click! Click-click-click-click-click!

Sounds remarkably like machine gun fire.

Paparazzi follow us everywhere now. Everywhere. You know all those pictures on the front of tabloid magazines in the grocery store checkout aisle? Or the myriad websites devoted to celebrity gossip? The paper magazines are bad enough, but the websites are a separate category.

People make money from running advertising on those sites. Which means they need a constant stream of pictures to draw eyeballs, to make a micro-cent per ad on the page.

That’s right.

I’m eyeball lure. Someone, somewhere, wants to see a picture of me without makeup or kissing Andrew or climbing out of a limo without underwear or buying a rival company’s products, or just being.

My presence in Andrew’s life has turned my very existence into money for someone else.

And a picture of me and Andrew, naked in a hot tub, will draw so, so many eyeballs.

“Is my side-boob showing?” I murmur against his nipple, which is now taut with either protective stress or the seventeen-degree air. Not sure which.

I do know that the main event has turned into a not-so-main event. So much for afternoon hot tub sex.

“Sweet tits, Mandy!” one of the photographers shouts. “Show ‘em to us, baby! Don’t let Andy have all the fun!”

Mandy. Andy.

Oh HELL NO.

A ferocious growl starts in Andrew’s throat, reverberating through him as he pins me closer. Panic floods me. Bad enough I have recurrent nightmares about being naked in public, but having a photo of my boobs on the internet – monetized – is pretty much anyone’s biggest nightmare.

Aside from taking an exam in a class you forgot you were enrolled in.

“GET OUT!” Andrew commands, dropping his legs slightly, making me sink deeper into the water as he holds me up. The girls bob like apples at a kids’ Halloween party, though, uncooperative in remaining hidden.

“Turn this way!” someone else shouts. I can’t help myself. That voice is different. I start to turn.

Flash! Flash!

“Don’t look,” Andrew commands. “Gerald’s on it.”

“Is there more than one?”

“Looks like three of them, and one is on some kind of ladder, because his face is right there. ”

Flash!

The voice is very close, so close I look up to find a grinning asshole with a simple phone, snapping photos as fast as he can, thumb on the camera button so it autoclicks.

“You two look so hot,” he says. Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Go away!” Andrew says, peeling me off him.

“Stay under water. Hide yourself.”

“What are you doing?”

“Going after him.”

“What?”

“Gerald!” Andrew shouts.

“Got it!” booms our bodyguard’s voice from the right as Gerald makes a running start and gets to the camera dude, grabbing the phone out of his pocket, tossing it into the hot tub, then grabbing the two sides of the ladder.

“Hey!” the photographer squeaks, shaky and grasping the top rung with a look of sheer terror. “You can’t!”

“I can.”

“I’ll sue!” Gerald shakes the ladder. The guy drops something, looks down, then looks back at Gerald, who has the face of a middle school spelling bee judge.

Less than zero emotion.

“You can’t do this!” the guy screeches.

“Just did.” Gerald looks over at Andrew, whose legs are now tensed and ready to lunge. I am preventing that from happening by the simple act of being in his lap. The feel of so much coiled power in his muscles is an aphrodisiac.

I must say something. Now.

Leaning in, I nip his earlobe and whisper, “You’re really hot when you’re protecting me.”

He jolts, his head moving away from my bite. Andrew’s staring at Gerald and the photographer, but he moves his cheek against mine and says, “Really? You have to share that fact with me right now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re turning me on.”

“You – you’re turned on by having the paparazzi take pictures of us naked in a hot tub?”

“No. I’m turned on by how your legs and chest and abs and — ” I use hand gestures to indicate a different body part– “feel right now.”

“Duly noted.”

“I think you’re doing more than noting that fact,” I say, as said body part rises to the occasion.

“Amanda,” he warns, voice half angry, half aroused.

“What?” I pretend to be innocent. I’m really good at it. I’m a former mystery shopper, after all, and most of the job involves pretending to be stupid.

 

 

About Julia Kent

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.

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Available Now: SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S HONEYMOON by Julia Kent

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Need more of a Shannon and Declan fix? Or are you meeting this couple for the first time? Either way, you are going to love following Shannon and Declan on their hilarious and sexy honeymoon in this new book from Julia Kent, SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S HONEYMOON!

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About SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S HONEYMOON

 He is addicted to his phone and his new role as CEO. I’m addicted to getting some on my own honeymoon.

One of these things is not like the other.

I am pretty sure a serial killer’s lair is the only place in the world where I could stash my new husband so he can’t manage the acquisition of our new company.

And that seems a little drastic.

But only a little…

All I want is one week alone with him. Hours in bed, legs tangled together in ecstasy, room service and long walks on the beach in Hawaii.

Not vying for his kisses around a Bluetooth microphone. The Borg aren’t sexy in real life.

So I’m taking matters into my own hands and hitting “reboot” on our honeymoon.

We’re going to a place so remote that no one can find us.

Not even my mother.

Shopping for a Billionaire’s Honeymoon is now a full-length book of 150+ pages, with both Shannon and Declan’s points of view. Originally published with only Shannon’s viewpoint, this expanded edition is a result of reader feedback. People wanted to know what Declan was up to – so here you go. This book is meant to be read after Shopping for a Billionaire’s Wife and/or Shopping for a CEO’s Fiancée, but if you read it out of order (or even as a standalone), that’s fine. Shannon and Declan forgive you. 😉

Get your hands on SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S HONEYMOON:

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Get a Sneak Peek:

My entire business empire rests in the hands of a man who just got dropped because my wife threw him in the toilet.

But other hands are resting on me. Moving on me. Stroking me over my clothes, pulling me out of the zone. The blue chemical water is a turnoff, but those hands…

Damn her.

Damn fine.

Business is my life. Giving in to baser urges is also my life. I’m a man.

My palm finds her knee, gliding up over those firm, sweet thighs, finding them bare and smooth, perfect for inhaling. Her skin is its own perfume, the swell of her hip crying out for a firm hand. I entwine the thin fabric of her garter – oh, sweet Jesus, it is so warm — between my fingers, grasping at it as if I’m playing tug of war with myself.

Stay in the business zone and hold steady.

Pull hard on the lifeline Shannon’s garters represent, and join her erotic zone.

I have to make a decision. I’m torn.

So are Shannon’s garters now. Oops.

Decision made.

“Hey!” she squeals, her voice going to that timbre that says the words that are about to come out of her mouth mean the opposite of what she feels. “You can’t tear my clothes off like that!”

“I can, and I will.”

“Declan!”

“Didn’t you catch that line in the wedding vows at our ceremony yesterday? ‘I, Shannon Eveline Jacoby, do promise to let my faithful husband rip off my lacy lingerie at will.’”

“I don’t remember that line.”

“Let me help you remember.”

Before she can answer, I shut her up with a kiss.

 

About Julia Kent

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.

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Available Now: SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S FIANCEE by Julia Kent

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The next book in New York Times Bestselling Author Julia Kent’s Shopping series is here – get your hands on SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S FIANCEE now!

 

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About SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S FIANCEE

We skipped right over the whole fiancée thing and went straight from girlfriend to wife.

At least, I think that’s what happened. I woke up after my brother’s Vegas wedding reception with my luscious girlfriend in bed with me. We’re both wearing wedding rings.

So is her coworker, Josh.

And our Vegas chauffeur, Geordi.

Who the hell am I married to?

Unraveling this mystery will be as difficult as figuring out why Amanda and I are having panic attacks over the thought of being husband and wife.

Or, whoever we’re actually married to.

Oh, ^%$#.

It’s true that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, with one exception:

If she’s my wife, we’ll make it work.

If she’s not?

I’ll make it happen.

Get the 9th book in Julia Kent’s New York Times bestselling romantic comedy series as Andrew and Amanda sort out their wild Vegas night…and the rest of their lives.

Add SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S FIANCEE to Goodreads here!

Get your hands on SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S FIANCEE now:

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Want to catch up on the series?

Grab the first installment, Shopping for a Billionaire: The Collection, now:

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Read a Sneak Peek of SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S FIANCEE:

“We’re not—you don’t really—we can’t be—”

“Married?”

She laughs, but it’s a brittle sound. “Come on. We didn’t actually have a wedding last night.”

“We didn’t? You’re sure?” I perk up. Great. She remembers last night. I squeeze my eyes and try to recall something—anything—that happened after Declan and Shannon said their goodbyes at the reception last night.

“I’m, well, I mean…” Twisting in my arms, she looks at me with those big, wide, trusting eyes, her left hand splayed against my bare chest, digging in where the robe has separated. “You don’t remember what happened?”

My voice drops with uncertainty.

Hers goes up.

“No.”

“Quit joking.”

“Not joking.”

“We both can’t remember any part of last night?”

“When does your memory end?” I ask.

Mascara is streaked along the corner of her eye, and any makeup she wore last night currently resides somewhere on my skin or on the bedsheets. I can only imagine what I look like.

Amanda, though, is gorgeous. In my arms and looking at me with a perplexed expression, biting her lower lip while she flips through the filing cabinets of memory in her mind, and—

“I don’t know.”

I sit up. “You’re the fixer.”

“I know! But I remember saying goodnight to Shannon, hugging Declan, and then—poof! Nothing.”

Poof.

“That’s when my memory ends, too,” I say, my skin beginning to crawl. “I know one thing: we did not have a foursome.”

“And I soooooo did not sleep with Josh. He’s gay. The man can’t handle watching a birth video. A real-life vagina would send him into cardiac arrest.”

“I know my heart pounds whenever I see yours,” I whisper. She gives me a reluctant smile, in spite of her hangover.

“That was baaaaaad,” she groans.

“All signs point to the sex question being put to rest. Worst case, all we did was sleep with each other,” I note.

Worst case? Buddy, sleeping with me is best case. Best case. Always best.”

That was an unfortunate choice of words on my part. Before I can do damage control, she speaks.

“What if we are?” she hisses.

“Are what?”

Her eyes dart to mine.

“Married.”

Get your hands on SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S FIANCEE now:

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Want to win? Swing by Julia Kent’s Facebook page for a giveaway celebrating the release of SHOPPING FOR A CEO’S FIANCEE!

About Julia Kent

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.

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Available Now: IT’S ALWAYS COMPLICATED by Julia Kent

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New York Times Bestselling Author Julia Kent’s long-awaited IT’S ALWAYS COMPLICATED is finally here! Find out more about this next installment in the Her Billionaires series and enter to win a $200 giftcard to your choice of stores below!

 

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About IT’S ALWAYS COMPLICATED

Take two men, one woman, three children. Stir in one best friend and her fiancé doctor. Whisk one best friend’s niece, her two rock star boyfriends, and add a grizzled old octogenarian diner owner with a naughty mouth and her eighty-something boyfriend who loves every minute of her.

Put them all in a campground in northern Maine where the owners’ daughter has two special men of her own. Bake for 400 pages.

It’s Always Complicated is the sprawling saga of how Laura, Mike and Dylan (Her Billionaires) and Josie and Alex (It’s Complicated) have the wedding of a lifetime at Escape Shores Campground (the Obedient series) while Darla, Trevor and Joe (the Random series) make an appearance with a cast of characters that includes cameos from the Warlock Waitress and maybe…just maybe…Mavis the Chicken.

This book combines three of Julia Kent’s series in a madcap spectacle that yields one universal truth: love is a journey and not a destination, but people will drive you crazy along the way.

Enjoy the ride.

Add IT’S ALWAYS COMPLICATED to Goodreads here!

Get your hands on IT’S ALWAYS COMPLICATED now:

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Need to catch up on the series?

Pick up the first book, HER BILLIONAIRES, now!

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Read a Sneak Peek of IT’S ALWAYS COMPLICATED

They hadn’t had a quickie like this—so unplanned, so forbidden—in, well…

Not in ever.

“Do you remember our first date?” she asked, as if reading his mind. “The alley? After we ate dinner? We almost had sex right there, up against that brick wall.”

“Remember it?” he asked in a voice thick with sex. “I wish we had. God, I wanted you so much. I knew the second I laid eyes on you that you were mine. Ours.”

Her throat tremored as she swallowed, the delicate line of her neck screaming for a kiss. A suck. His mark, to show the world she was his.

Maybe that’s what this massive thunderstorm of sexual need was all about. If society wouldn’t let them make what their hearts knew to be true legally, then he needed to imprint his scent on her. Claim her. Make her his.

And Mike needed to do the same, too.

It was almost feral. So alpha, so animalistic that as he tucked himself back in his shorts he realized he was hardening again. The thrill of heated desire poured through his muscles, making them tense and loose at the same time, a strange paradox that only Laura could trigger.

“Damn it,” he said, pursing his lips and blowing out a frustrated breath.

“What?” When she brushed her long, blonde waves away from her face like that, all he could think about was having Laura naked beneath him, writhing in ecstasy with the blue sky above them, a field of wildflowers their only bed.

And…fuck.

He was hard as a rock.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—”

Her kiss was an unexpected blow, a strike of pure power, her tongue plundering his like she was taking him prisoner and he was doomed. Doomed by the flesh, by the ritual of lust between them that needed no prelude.

Mine, she was screaming with teeth that nipped and lips that would be raw and red tomorrow.

Mine.

He picked her up and set her down on the bare ground, reaching between them with fast fingers to unleash what had just been inside her.

“Again,” she begged.

“I came out here to comfort you.” “

Then do it, damn it. Comfort me like this.”

Enter to Win

Because life IS always complicated, let’s keep this contest simple.

For a chance to win one $200 gift card from Gyft.com, good for more than 200 stores including Starbucks, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Macy’s, Whole Foods and more, just enter via the Rafflecopter below!

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About Julia Kent

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.

Website | TwitterFacebookNewsletter | Facebook Reader Group | Instagram

Available Now: SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE by Julia Kent

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If you’ve been looking for a series that’s the perfect mixture of hilarious and swoon-worthy, New York Times Bestselling Author Julia Kent has the series for you!

SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE is out today – you don’t want to miss the wedding of the century!

Find out more about SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE below, plus get a sneak peek, get the scoop on a .99c sale, and enter the chance to win an epic prize pack that includes a Tiffany & Co bracelet!

 

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About SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE

Who needs a SWAT team to escape from their own wedding? Me.

My Momzilla turned us into hostages at our own ceremony, so Declan and I are getting married the good old-fashioned way, just like everybody else.

By calling in his private security team, stealing away before the ceremony by helicopter, connecting to his corporate jet and heading for Las Vegas.

The Boston wedding of the year is about to become a trashy Elvis drive-thru ceremony.

Until the best man spills the beans and Mom, Dad, my sisters, his brothers, my maid of honor, my friend Josh, and even my cat, Chuckles, all come along for the ride.

I can’t win, can I?

Oh. Yeah. I already did.

Love conquers all.

Even my crazy family.

Shopping for a Billionaire’s Wife is the 8th book in the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Shopping for a Billionaire series. After Declan convinces Shannon to escape from their own wedding minutes before the ceremony begins, the madcap adventures are just getting started. When the mother of the bride pries their location out of the tortured best man, the whole crazy crew follows the bride and groom to Las Vegas in this romantic comedy from Julia Kent.

Add SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE to Goodreads here!

Get your hands on SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE now:

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Need to catch up on the series?

The previous books in the series are on sale now for a limited time, just .99c each!

Shopping for a Billionaire: The Collection

Amazon | Barnes and Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

Shopping for a Billionaire’s Fiancee

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Shopping for a CEO

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Read a Sneak Peek of SHOPPING FOR A BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE

We are at a private airport I’ve never seen before. The sky is that glorious shade of blue that seems to deepen as you look up, with a smattering of clouds that draw the eye to them. It’s a perfect, idyllic July day in Massachusetts.

A great day for an outdoor wedding.

Declan and the helicopter pilot, whose name I never caught, exchange a few words in Russian before I rib my soon-to-be husband and whisper, “Would you please speak in English?”

“Why?”

Why?

He just stares at me with that intimidatingly blank face.

“That doesn’t work, you know,” I tell him with a pointed sneer. Or, at least, I try to sneer. I’m not so good at the sneering thing. That’s more Jessica Coffin’s area of expertise.

He doesn’t twitch a muscle. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want me to know what he and the pilot are talking about. Fine. Fine!

But this alpha-male dominant crap—you know, the stuff I fell in love with him for—is getting on my nerves.

“Declan, please,” I concede.

No change.

The exasperated hiss that comes out of me makes my body flush with fury. “It’s our wedding day. I am supposed to be kissing you at the altar right now while the minister pronounces us husband and wife. Instead, I listened to you and went along with this crazy scheme to run off to Las Vegas and leave everyone—everyone!—behind.”

Side note: I know that’s not true. The decision to ditch my mother was mutual. But right now, I have zero leverage, and he’s giving me that granite look like he’s an Easter Island statue, so I have to find some kind of vulnerability in him.

I’m saving sex for the nuclear option.

His lips purse, jaw grinding, as he finally opens his mouth and says, “No one forced you into the helicopter.”

The words feel like knife blades against my heart, scraping lightly rather than plunging straight in. He’s right. His eyes fill with a kind of measured kindness, as if he understands I’m falling apart in stages.

I am. The Russian thing isn’t helping.

“Why won’t you tell me what you’re talking about with the pilot?”

“Because it’s a surprise.”

He can play this immutable look game for as long as he wants. Two years ago, it worked. I’ve lived with this man for nearly a year. I know him intimately now. He knows me thoroughly (though, perhaps, not as intimately as his mother’s engagement ring knows me, but let’s not go there…).

I leave.

Turning away from him and bumbling out of the helicopter in my tartan-and-white monstrosity of a gown isn’t easy, but I accomplish the near-impossible and disembark without assistance. I’m a good twenty feet toward a metal-sided building at this tiny airport before he grips my elbow.

“Shannon, stop.”

I keep walking.

“Shannon, I said stop.” His voice is an emotionless growl. He sounds like a CIA agent barking orders.

The catcalls continue, the voices more numerous.

“Why?” I continue, giving him a taste of his own medicine. I can be cool and composed. I can show no more emotion than a cucumber. I can be neutral and blank, slack and granite, a sophisticated ice queen who gives nothing away.

He stands behind me, a wall of heat pressing against my back, hands on my elbows and stopping me from proceeding. Declan leans down over my shoulder, his lips brushing against my ear, and says:

“Because part of the back of your dress is tucked into your tartan thong.”

Oh, crap.

 

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Want to win a grand prize pack of Vegas-inspired items, a Tiffany & Co bracelet, mug, and tote bag? Be sure to enter via the Rafflecopter below!

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About Julia Kent

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge, and new adult books that push contemporary boundaries. From billionaires to BBWs to rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every book she writes, but unlike Trevor from Random Acts of Crazy, she has never kissed a chicken.

Website | TwitterFacebookNewsletter | Facebook Reader Group