We’re thrilled to be part of the ‘Something Old, Something New’ blog tour to celebrate the upcoming release of Con Man by T Torrest!
First up, we have an ‘old’ series getting a ‘new’ look, so without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I give you the new covers of the Remember When trilogy, designed by the ever so talented Hang Le!
To celebrate REMEMBER WHEN’s new look, we’re giving away a complete autographed set of ALL SEVEN books by T. Torrest. Look out for the link at the end of this post.
And now, the something new! Con Man is due to be released March 24th. Pre-order will be available from March 20th at the special price of 99 pennies.
We are sharing part 5 of the excerpt, to read it from the very beginning you will need to start off here.
Lucas Taggart is the best con man in the business, so to speak.
A former-geek-turned-hottie, Luke is now an image consultant and life coach to the rich and privileged in New York City. His eight-week program is designed to transform ugly ducklings into swans by instilling some much-needed confidence, and hey, a makeover never hurts.
But when Ainsley Carrington signs up as a client, Luke’s world is thrown into a tailspin. Ainsley doesn’t need an image consultant; her image is already perfect just the way it is. Luke immediately finds himself grappling with his attraction to the introverted beauty as all his old insecurities come bubbling back to the surface.
The thing is, Luke doesn’t date his clients. Ever. But fighting his desire for Ainsley is proving more difficult than he ever imagined. Especially since the cocky and arrogant “confidence man” has just completely lost his cool.
***CON MAN is a romantic comedy novel intended for ages 18+ due to some offensive language and graphic sex/sexual situations.***
READ WHEN YOU’RE IN THE MOOD FOR: cocky, funny, sexy, insightful, relatable.
I was a few minutes early getting back to the restaurant, but as I made my way onto the patio, a woman who was obviously not my client was occupying my table. I guess I couldn’t have expected Fernando to just leave his station empty for two entire hours, but this woman didn’t look like she was ready to wrap up anytime soon.
She was preoccupied with perusing the menu, allowing me an extra minute to peruse her. It didn’t take more than a glance to assess that she was gorgeous, and I allowed myself to appreciate the view. Blonde hair pulled back in an artless ponytail, the entire mass shining in the midday sun, model-high cheekbones above a full, luscious mouth, a bottom lip pinched between her teeth as she scanned the specials.
It was almost intimidating.
Now. I know I just got through telling you that I held no stock in a pretty face. And for the most part, I meant it. But that was then and this is now and the fact of the matter is that I happened to be a red-blooded American male. I couldn’t not notice a beautiful woman. The difference between me and most of my gender, however, was that looks alone didn’t sell me. I needed more than that.
I was curious to see if a killer personality went along with the killer looks, and figured there was no better time than the present to find out. I normally found that a pairing like that was a rarity, but what the hell. It was worth the shot. I had a few minutes to kill before one, so why not spend my wait with a little company? Realizing I had the perfect opening, I figured I could use the seating mixup to my advantage. I formulated an effective line as I closed the few paces that separated us, confident that I could win her over with my witty repartee.
But then she looked up.
I stopped dead in my tracks as I was met with the most incredible blue eyes I’d ever seen in my life. They were peeking through a fringe of heavy lashes, putting the sky to shame and tripping me up something fierce.
The look on her face was apprehensive, though, and seeing that slip in her armor caused the most terrifying thought to seep into my brain: Wait. Is this my one o’clock?
No. Wasn’t possible. There was simply no way.
Please don’t let this be my new client. Please don’t let this–
“Lucas Taggart?” she asked. Her voice was a soft melody wrapped in an alluring timidity that reverberated all the way down my spine.
“Yes,” I replied through sandpaper before clearing my throat. “You must be Ainsley Carrington.”