Friday, March 13, 2020

SWEET CHAOS by Emery Rose


He's chaos... she's the sweetest temptation. An angsty, forbidden romance, Sweet Chaos by Emery Rose will destroy your heart in the very best way. Add to your TBR!

Fall in love with Dylan St. Clair on April 3rd!


𝗗𝘆𝗹𝗮𝗻 𝗦𝘁. 𝗖𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘀. 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗼𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗮 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗸𝗲. 𝗜 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗻’𝘁 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱. I’ve had a crush on Dylan St. Clair since he climbed into my bedroom window ten years ago. 𝘞𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸, 𝘙𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰. I was eleven, he was seventeen. A bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks with a chip on his shoulder and fresh bruises from his latest fight, he went on to play the starring role in all my teenage fantasies. But I always knew he was off-limits. So, over the years I gave up wishing and hoping we could ever be together. Until he kissed me on a cold beach one starry winter’s night. Until he said those five words that changed everything. 𝘐 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳.   Add SWEET CHAOS to your Goodreads TBR: GIVEAWAY To celebrate the cover reveal of Sweet Chaos, Emery Rose is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card! Head to her Facebook page to enter:   EXCERPT Before he lit a cigarette, Dylan checked that I was done eating. “You go to the gym and you obviously work hard for that body…” That was a fact, no use pretending I hadn’t noticed. You didn’t get a body like Dylan’s by sitting around on your ass. “but you still smoke?” “It’s all about balance.” I laughed. He took a drag of his cigarette, his eyes narrowed, the little lines around his eyes crinkling. He could even make smoking look sexy. But then, Dylan could make just about anything look sexy. Feeling bold, I plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and claimed it as my own. He scowled. “You’re not a smoker.” I took a drag and tipped back my head, blowing the smoke into the cold night air. “I know. But I know how to do it now without coughing up a lung.” “That’s a shame,” he said, extracting a cigarette for himself. Cupping his tattooed hand over the tip, he flicked his Zippo and took a drag, the cherry glow burning brighter as he inhaled.   We sat side by side on the tailgate, smoking our cigarettes, and the undercurrent of electricity I’d always felt around him was still there. I knew it was just a chemical reaction, a trick my body played on me whenever he was near, but I wished my brain would send a signal to make it stop. “You don’t talk as much as you used to,” he observed after moments of silence ticked by. “I thought you’d appreciate the peace and quiet.” “I never minded it when you talked.” I laughed. “Could have fooled me. You told me you didn’t have time for my teen drama and shit.” He took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth and huffed out a laugh before he spoke. “You remember that.” “Why do you think I stopped texting? You injured my pride.” It had been more than my pride. Those words had hurt my foolish teenage heart far more than they should have. But he didn’t need to know that I’d cried over him. I opened the plastic lid of my shake and tossed the cigarette into the cup, the dregs of the milkshake dousing the fire and making it sizzle. Replacing the lid, I tossed the cup in one of the takeout bags and leaned back on my hands, watching the lights in the canyon. He gave me a sidelong glance. “Funny. I used to have a hoodie just like that.” He smirked. I stifled a groan. What were the chances I’d be wearing his UC San Diego hoodie tonight? The same hoodie he’d given me the night I snuck in to watch his underground fight. I took it off and tried to give it back to him. He waved it off. “Keep it. You ruined your sweater for me.” “You were bleeding. What else was I supposed to do?” “Not ruin your sweater.” “You got in that fight because of me.” “I wanted to kill those assholes for messing with you.” He’d gotten into a fight over me, after beating his opponent in the underground fight. I remembered thinking that nobody had ever fought for me before. That was the night I’d fallen in love with Dylan St. Clair, a few weeks shy of my sixteenth birthday. It was also the night I realized that he would never be mine and I needed to forget him. As he crushed his cigarette under the sole of his high top, his eyes were on my face. It felt like he was seeing me for the first time. His hooded gaze lowered to my mouth and I licked my bottom lip at the same time he did. Then he shook his head and strode away. “Let’s go. I’ve got shit to do.” And just like that, I was fifteen again. TEASERS ABOUT THE AUTHOR Emery Rose has been known to indulge in good red wine, strong coffee, and a healthy dose of sarcasm. When she’s not working on her latest project, you can find her binge-watching Netflix, trotting the globe in search of sunshine, or immersed in a good book. A former New Yorker, she currently resides in London with her two beautiful daughters and one grumpy but lovable Border Terrier.   AUTHOR LINKS Reader Group: Goodreads: Bookbub: Amazon: Instagram: Facebook:  

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