Get ready for NYT Bestselling Author Lexi Ryan’s new
series Here and Now! The first novel in the series, LOST IN ME, is a sexy New Adult
contemporary romance released April 7th!
LOST IN ME
is on SALE for just .99 cents the first week of release as a fan appreciation
from the author!
LOST IN ME is the
first book in the Here and Now series, a spin-off of the New York
Times and USA Today bestselling New Hope series. This
sexy amnesia love triangle is intended for mature readers.
The last thing I remember is having drinks at Brady’s
and trying to avoid eye-contact with my life-long crush—the gorgeous,
unattainable Maximilian Hallowell. They tell me that was a year ago, but I have
no memories of anything since then. What I do have is this ring on my finger
that Max says he gave me, and this much-thinner body I’ve dreamed of most of my
life. Aside from a case of retrograde amnesia, everything seems almost…perfect.
But the deeper I immerse myself into this new world of
mine—planning a wedding to a man I don’t remember dating, attempting to run a
business I don’t remember starting—the clearer it becomes that nothing is as it
seems. Do I have the life I’ve always wanted or is it a facade propped up by
secrets I don’t even know I have?
I need answers before I marry Max, and the only person
who seems to have them is the angry, tatted, sexy-as-sin rocker Nate Crane. And
Nate wants me for himself.
LOST IN ME is not a standalone novel, as the story
continues in Here and Now book two, FALL TO YOU, releasing in June.
GUEST POST:
The Here and
Now Series
The Here and
Now Series
By Lexi Ryan
“Do
you know what retrograde amnesia is? Because I just learned about it and I have
this story idea…” This was few years ago on call with my critique partner. The conversation was supposed to be about the
book I was finishing, but I was distracted by this shiny new story idea.
The
kernel of the idea was there, born from my fascination with retrograde amnesia.
A woman wakes up in the hospital and is engaged to a man she remembers (though
she doesn’t remember getting engaged…doesn’t remember anything from the last
year, in fact). She’s in the days approaching her wedding…but there’s this
other guy. This guy who seems to know things about her life that no one else
does. This guy who’s in love with her and doesn’t want her to marry her fiancé.
This guy she doesn’t remember and yet
feels connected to somehow.
I
carried this kernel of a story idea with me. I wasn’t sure what I was going to
do with it or whose story it was. I never know much about my plot when I start
writing. Instead, I start with emotion and character, and I was fascinated with
how it would feel to wake up and think you had to perfect life, think you’d
finally gotten everything you wanted…but have no memory of how you got there.
Meanwhile,
I was also carrying the character of Hanna with me. Hanna who has struggled with her weight her
whole life, who’s totally in love with a guy she grew up with but believes
herself to be completely unworthy. I met Hanna while I was first writing
Maggie’s story (now Unbreak Me), and
I knew from the beginning she needed her own story.
Then,
one day while I was writing a scene in Wish
I May that had Hanna pining for Max, the puzzle pieces floating around in
my head clicked together. Since I’d already written about Max and already “met”
Asher’s musician friend Nate Crane in my mind (I know, writers are weird), the
rest of the premise fell into place. I knew not only that I needed to write
this sexy amnesia love triangle for Hanna but that it had so many twists and
turns it was going to take me more than one book to tell it. And so the Here
and Now series was born—a series where the main character has to choose between
the two incredibly sexy guys that want her. How do you make the right choice
for your future when you can’t remember your own secrets?
I
hope you’ll check out Lost in Me,
book one of the Here and Now series.
AN EXCERPT:
I
wake up to someone climbing into bed next to me, hot, hard muscle cozying up
behind me.
I
blink away sleep. Max is in my bed and I want to enjoy it, enjoy him, but sleep
has such a tight hold on me I can hardly keep my eyes open. I snuggle as close
to him as I can get, but sleep is already tugging me back down.
“Couldn’t
stay away?” I murmur in the darkness.
“You
know I can’t,” he whispers against my ear. His voice is different somehow.
Deeper? Maybe sleepy? I don’t have time to think about it because I’m wrapped
up in his heat, his bare chest against my back, one of his hands right between
my breasts, and I can’t fight it when my dreams suck me back in. But somehow,
with his heat against me and his arms around me, my fitful dreams fade away and
I don’t just sleep. I rest.
When
I wake again, the room is still dark, but Max’s mouth is doing delicious things
to the side of my neck. I arch against him and am greeted by the hard length of
his erection against my ass. I have to bite my lip at the thrill that rushes
through me. Not only can I do that to him, but he wanted me enough that he had
to come back tonight.
Under
my shirt, his fingertips skim the underside of my breasts, and a soft moan
slips from my lips. He cups my breast in his hot hand and grazes his callused
palm against my nipple, toys and teases until it’s hard and tight under his
hand and I am rocking back into him instinctively.
“Jesus,
I missed you so much.” His voice sounds funny, but I hardly have time for the
thought to register before he’s squeezing my nipples, sending electric jolts of
pleasure from my breasts and right up through my center. His touch is harder
than it was earlier. Rougher. But I like it. He’s so good at this. He knows
exactly how to touch me, exactly how much pressure I like. I wouldn’t want him
to ever stop touching my breasts if it weren’t for this nearly painful ache
that’s been pulsing between my legs since we were interrupted in my living
room—the ache my own touch couldn’t quite ease.
I
circle my hips and rub my backside against his erection. Thick and wild arousal
buzzes through me, electric and sharp with its intensity. He wants me as much
as I want him.
“Touch
me,” I whisper into the darkness. “I need you to touch me.”
He
groans against my neck and then his fingers are dipping into the waistband of
my sleep pants.
I
turn in his arms just as his hand meets the hot and needy place between my
thighs. Our mouths touch in the darkness, and something niggles at the back of
my mind. Something’s changed between last night and now. Does he smell
different or—
The
thought disintegrates as he slides a finger inside me. I can’t believe how
slick and wet I am. Except that this is Max and I need his touch.
I
rock against him, letting him touch me the way I touched myself in the bath.
Only this is hotter. Sweeter. More intense. Not just because it’s him. It’s
almost as if he knows what I like better than I do. His finger moves inside me
and his teeth nip at my neck almost painfully. But I like it. I want more of
this unbridled lust, more of his expert touch.
He
withdraws his finger and replaces it with two, stretching me in a way that has
my body pulsing around him in response.
“Yes,”
I whisper. I want this. Need it.
His
thumb finds my clit and his fingers curl.
“Oh
God…” Am I a screamer? I bite my lip, but holy shit, I can’t—
“Let
me hear you scream,” he growls in my ear, his stubble scraping at the tender
skin of my neck. “Let me feel you pulse around my fingers as you come.”
I
curl my nails into his forearm, not to stop him, but because this pleasure
inside me is so intense I have to do something, put this energy somewhere.
His
other hand slides up my side and squeezes right at the bruise on my ribs. Pain
vibrates through me, and I cry out.
“Hanna?”
He pulls away and clicks on the light.
I’m
still wincing at the pain from my manhandled bruise when I look at him through
squinted eyes.
And
then I scream.
I
shove the man off me as hard as I can. My mind gropes for the lessons I learned
in the personal defense class I took in college. I bring up my knee, aiming for
his balls.
He
lets out an airy oomph, and I flail,
backing as far away from him as I can get. I fall off the bed, and the impact
of my already-battered body slamming into the floor has me crying out.
“Jesus,
Hanna!” the man—who is definitely not Max—says from the bed. “What the fuck was
that for?”
Oh God. He knows my name.
I’m
trembling.
My
phone is on the bedside table, and I scramble to get to it before he can take
it away.
“I’ll
call the police!” I warn, holding the phone up like it’s a weapon.
The
man on the bed is white-faced and stricken and looking at me like I’ve lost my
mind.
“You
can’t just come into a woman’s house and get into her bed.” Shit. Now I’m
trying to reason with a sex offender. Jesus. But he’s just sitting there. Is
that normal?
His
expression goes from confused to desolate as he skims his eyes over my bruised
face. “Damn. What happened to you, angel?”
I
fumble with my phone, pressing the button on the side and trying to get it to
light up. Nothing. It’s dead. Why didn’t I charge it before I fell asleep last
night?
He
pushes off the bed, and I back into a corner, arms wrapped around myself.
“Leave. Please.”
He
holds up his hands and takes a step toward me. “Hanna, baby. Tell me what
happened. Tell me—”
I
press my body as close to the wall as I can. I should have locked myself in the
bathroom or something. I am one of those too-dumb-to-live heroines you see in
horror movies. Especially since the thing keeping me here—keeping me from
running to safety—is the hurt on his
face. I’ve always been the kind of person who tries to make people happy, but
this is ridiculous.
Think, Hanna. Okay, I’ll need a description for
the cops. Tall—taller than Max, maybe—messy dark hair, an Incredible Hulk
tattoo on his right shoulder, some numbers tattooed above his left pec. God, is
he an ex-con? Don’t convicts get numbers tattooed on themselves?
He
steps closer, and a shudder runs through me.
“Please
don’t hurt me.” I sink to the floor and cross my arms in front of my face.
His
gaze catches on my left hand, and his jaw goes hard. “I see.” He backs off and
grabs something off the floor. Then he’s tugging a shirt over his head. It
falls into place and covers that amazing body.
Amazing body? What the eff is wrong with me?
As
stupid as it is, I don’t believe this man is here to hurt me. There’s nothing
intimidating about his body language, and even though his face has gone hard
and angry, there’s no violence in his eyes.
He
grabs his jeans. “You could have told me.”
“I
don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice cracks.
Jeans
unbuttoned and half up his hips, he’s heading toward the door. Stupidly, I
follow him. My hands are shaking, my head spinning.
He
grabs the doorknob and goes still, but he doesn’t look at me. “When I was
touching you just now”—he swallows—“you thought I was…”
“I
thought you were my fiancé.” The whisper seems to swell in the small space and
vibrate off the walls.
He
punches the wall beside the door. “You and Max have a nice life.” Then he’s
leaving, slamming the door behind him and making the whole room rattle. And me
right along with it.
About the Author
Once a college English professor, I now write full
time. I live in rural Indiana, where, when I’m not writing, I get to hang out
with my husband and two kids–a six-year-old boy and a two-year-old hellion, er,
girl. Not surprisingly, reading and writing remain my favorite activities,
though both come in bits and pieces these days, not the big hunks of time I
enjoyed before I had children. When I’m feeling virtuous, I like to go running
(I use that word liberally. I’m really, really slow) or do yoga. Don’t worry,
I’m always careful to balance out such activities with a hearty serving of ice
cream or a chocolate martini.
I loved this book! Did you read it?
ReplyDeleteI haven't. Good to know that you liked it, though!
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