Saturday, May 10, 2014

Book Boyfriend of the Week: Rafe Murano from A Beautiful Distraction by Kelsie Leverich with Excerpt

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This week my book boyfriend is Rafe Murano from A Beautiful Distraction by Kelsie Leverich.  He's mysterious, broody, aloof, has a panty-dropping smile, he's dominant and knows what he wants, but he also knows how to give, and when he does love, he gives it his all.  Oh, and of course he is a hot Special Ops Marine.  
Check out the excerpt below.  

A Beautiful Distraction 
(Hard Feelings #3)
by Kelsie Leverich
Publication Date:  May 6, 2014
Publisher:  Berkley/NAL 

Goodreads  |  Amazon  |  Barnes and Noble

From a New York Times bestselling author, a brand new sexy contemporary romance featuring military bad boys:  A BEAUTIFUL DISTRACTION by Kelsie Leverich.

Nothing’s more dangerous than a bad boy with a broken heart…

First Sergeant Rafe Murano did everything to the extreme. He trained harder, he fought harder, and unfortunately, he loved harder. But he fell for the wrong woman and it nearly destroyed him.

Back home from a deployment, with no mission to consume him, Murano’s ravaged by memories of his past. So he drinks until he’s numb and drowns himself in meaningless one night stands. But they only take the edge off…

Until he meets Fallon.

Fallon Kelly learned the hard way not to take risks with her heart, But she sees something  irresistible in the tatted-up bad boy one more punch away from a ride in the back of a squad car. She offers a distraction. And he quickly becomes an addiction. Little does she know, this bad boy could love so hard it could break her…

You can see my review here.  

How Pulling into a small parking lot, Fallon parked her car away from the few others and killed the engine.
The silence between them was growing—and it wasn’t growing roses, that’s for damn sure. It was tense and unsettling. Brooding . . .
Fallon shifted in her seat, facing Rafe. He remained silent, looking at her with an expression that pricked a tiny little ache beneath her collarbone. She was used to men looking at her—it was her job. She was used to seeing desire and need in a man’s eyes as they watched her. But there was something so different in the way Rafe was regarding her in that moment. He wasn’t looking at her like he was ready to undress her. Instead, he looked at her with a curious hunger that matched her own. A desperation that she was all too familiar with.
“Why’d you do it?” he asked.
“Do what? Stop you from fighting in my club?”
“Why’d you get me out of there? Why didn’t you just let the cops arrest me?”
She inhaled a breath, slushing through her different answers, and opted for telling him the truth. “Because you were defending one of my girls. And because I was watching you.”
His brows darted up in a cocky way that suited him a little too well. “You were?”
“Yes,” she replied. Her confidence reached up and found its role in her voice, and she let it carry her. “I watched you watch me.” She paused, then shook her head. “That doesn’t happen.”
“What doesn’t happen?” he asked, his voice still even, but she could tell his curiosity had spiked.
“I’m not easily distracted.”
His head nodded back just the tiniest amount. Not enough to call it a nod, and not enough that she should have noticed, but she did. And she also noticed the subtle pull in the muscles on the corner of his beautiful mouth—the warning sign of an imminent smug grin. To her appreciation, he was fighting it.
Then the complacent expression in his eyes vanished as he blinked, and when he set those smooth, sable eyes on her again, she lost her breath.
Literally lost it. She couldn’t remember how to inhale to fill her lungs with much-needed oxygen. She was too trapped. Too entranced by the way he looked at her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man could draw such a strong physical reaction from her with just a look. That look could make her beg, and Fallon didn’t beg.
Anyone. Ever.
But she’d admitted it and accepted it. The way he held her captive with his eyes felt like he was truly touching her, containing her—holding her. And if he looked away, she was afraid she would beg him to look back.
“Looks like we’ve both got a talent for distracting the other when no one else can,” he commented. 
The balmy air in the car morphed thick and hot, a tangible tension clinging to them. What was it about him that did this to her? She didn’t know how long she just sat there watching the twitch of his chiseled jaw beneath a few days of stubble, imagining the feel of his buzzed head beneath her fingers, captured in his controlling eyes. Surely minutes had passed, many minutes.
A hum sliced through the silence in the car, and Fallon turned away from him, focusing out the windshield. She felt the moment his eyes moved from her body and she sighed inwardly.
She faintly heard his voice as he answered his phone, but it was muffled by the volume of her rambling mind. Taking back her body’s control was imperative. She wasn’t this woman; she’d never been this woman.
“Sorry about that,” Rafe said a few moments later, pushing the phone back into his pocket.
“Lose the tie.”
His eyes widened at her sudden command. Then, cracking a smile, he pulled on his tie, loosening it a little more so he could lift it from his neck.
“Come here.” The breathiness she was prepared for never coasted from her lips. Relieved, she lifted her hands to his collar, fumbling with the cream buttons, sliding them through the small slits.
“What are you doing?”
She peered up at him through her lashes, fingers stalled on his collar. Trademark move right there. Every woman should learn and master the lash-look. Drove men crazy. More than likely because it reminded them of the way women looked at them when their jeans were around their ankles. Sometimes they were such predictable creatures. And if she wanted to gain the upper hand, she had to go all or nothing. “This isn’t a tie atmosphere.”
Nodding his response, he continued to watch her as she returned her attention to his shirt.
After she unbuttoned the top three buttons, slightly revealing his chest, she went to his wrists, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling each one up to his elbows.
Her eyes immediately lifted to find his. “Hmm.”
“What’s your ‘hmm’ for?” he questioned, studying her carefully.
She simply shrugged, however she assumed he deduced her reason from the cocky glint that flashed in his eyes.
Both his arms were covered in ink that began at his wrists and disappeared beneath his shirt. And she imagined if she unbuttoned it the remainder of the way and pushed it from his arms, she would find that the tattoos covered them completely.
What was it about a man with sleeves of tattoos? Was it the ink itself that detonated a physical reaction from women, or was it the assumption of what was behind the ink? What the tattoos portrayed?
It gave off the stereotypical impression of a bad boy, a man with edge, a glimpse of danger.
But even before she saw the ink on his arms, she knew. She saw the flash of danger flecked in his eyes. He was a sexy bad boy in a tie. Now, with the tie gone and his tattoos on display, he became lethal.
Gone was the bad boy, replaced by a man who threatened her resolve.


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