Let
the games begin…
The Secret, an all-new uber sexy,
laugh-out-loud romcom from New York
Times bestselling author Max Monroe, is available now!
Dear Fellow Bookworms,
I
need your help.
I,
Rachel Rose, am in quite the pickle with a hot-as-sin English Lit professor by
the name of Ty Winslow, and I don’t know how to get out of it.
Let me break it down for you:
Girl meets Guy.
Girl gives Guy her underwear on a dare but
nothing else identifying (like her name or number) because she plans to never see Guy again.
But Girl does
see Guy again, in a very professional setting, where she is to be the
Teaching Assistant to his Professor for an entire semester.
Girl would like to ignore all events of the
past, but Guy is a whole list of tempting things that are hard to resist. (See below:)
#1: Insanely
attractive.
#2: The most fun
a girl could ever have.
#3: Successful
and intelligent.
#4: He can quote
Walt Whitman at the drop of a hat—which I’m sure you know is a dangerous thing
for a literature-lover.
#5: Smooth with
a capital S. He could charm the panties off a woman WITHOUT the help of a dare.
And now, Mr. Hot Professor, the man I’m determined
to resist, is challenging me to a competition—a playful, secret game, so to
speak—where the winner takes all.
My plan? Play the game long enough to win—long
enough to walk away with the upper hand—without
doing something stupid like falling in love.
It’s possible . . . right?
If you have any advice, please reach out to me
soon—before it’s too late.
XOXO,
Rachel
Read your copy
today, exclusively on Amazon and FREE in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3G8qTtB
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/TheSecretMM
Excerpt
TY
I glance pointedly down at the ring—a mood ring—on her right ring finger,
and she lets go of my hand like it’s morphed into a scorching hot plate.
Rachel Rose is her. The woman from Orchid.
“What’s
your mood tonight?” I asked her.
And she
answered with a seductive, “A little wild. A little reckless.”
The conversation I had with her that night
replays in my mind, and I know there’s no way in hell I’d get those big green
eyes and entrancing lips of hers confused with someone else.
And fuck me, this woman, she’s even more of a
goddess than my brain allowed me to remember.
Her skirt, coat, and blouse are classic and
professional, but even they can’t hide the mind-blowing curves that lie beneath
the material. Her breasts are full, her hips and thighs perfectly rounded, and
her legs shapely in a way that reminds me of paintings from the Renaissance.
She is the exact type of curvy that turns me
into a fool.
And her face is undeniably beautiful too. More
so than the dim lights of Orchid allowed me to see.
“Rachel,” I repeat her name, letting it fall
slowly off my tongue. “It’s always good to be able to put a name to a face.”
Her laugh is awkward, but that’s probably
because she’s been lying through her pretty little lips ever since we made eye
contact. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Professor Winslow.”
“Please, Rachel, just call me Ty.”
“O-okay,” she answers and swallows hard
against a nervous titter in her throat. “So…uh…what would you like for me to
accomplish today?”
How
about you acknowledge that you gave me your panties?
is the very first thought to come to mind. Is
that something you do often? and Or
was it just something you did for me? are the second and third.
Thankfully, my brain-to-mouth filter seems to
be connected today because no matter what my dick has prepared in its
PowerPoint presentation, this is Nate’s daughter.
I can’t
go there.
“We’ll keep it laid-back today. I have a
folder of information for you. My class schedules, some teaching plans for the
semester, that kind of stuff,” I answer, even though everything inside me wants
to press her more about that Friday night. I swear, this woman has some balls
to just outright deny something we both know is true.
To be honest, in a weird way, I think I might
admire her for it.
“Okay, cool,” she answers calmly, but I don’t
miss the way her fingers fidget with her coat.
I walk back over to my desk and shuffle
through the mess of papers and files to find the stack that’s for her. “I went
ahead and compared our schedules. The only class of mine that you’ll be able to
attend consistently is my afternoon English 101 class with the freshmen. Though,
I’d love to see you fit in a few of my other courses throughout this semester,
but not to the detriment of your master’s workload.”
I hand her the thick file, and she takes it
with hesitant hands, her eyes acting like my face is the sun and avoiding direct
contact for long periods of time is needed for survival.
“This is probably not everything, but it will
give you a good start,” I instruct, and for some insane reason, I can’t swipe
the smile off my face. There is just something about her and the way she is
avoiding the reality of our initial introduction that, the more I think about
it, is amusing as hell. “Log-ins for my online drive, my class schedule for the
spring semester, some of my teaching plans for English 101, and a few other
odds and ends I know will be of use.”
She stares down at the file in her hands.
Which I’m guessing has more to do with avoidance than interest, seeing as it’s
a plain manila folder. “Great. Thanks.”
“I also think it would be a good idea for us
to get to know each other a little better,” I say and lean back against my
desk, crossing my arms at my chest. I know I’m putting her on the spot, but I’m
so fucking curious if she’s ever going to break from the façade of acting like
Orchid never happened, it feels like I have to push. “So, tell me a little bit
about yourself, Rachel.”
Her green eyes flicker up and hold, and I know
immediately that something has changed. She’s formed a backbone or found her
courage or is gearing up to tell me to go fuck myself. Whatever it is, it’s
beautiful. “What do you want to know exactly?”
“Just a little about you. What are your
greatest passions in literature? Your likes? Dislikes?” And how often do you go to nightclubs and give men your underwear?
She shrugs. Toys with the file in her hands.
“Well, I got my bachelor’s at Stanford. Took a few years off to…I don’t
know…not focus on my career.” Her laugh is self-deprecating. “And literature,
devouring books, writing…I love all of it. Though I’m not certain what I want
to do with my master’s, I know it will lead me to where I should be.”
“And what do you do for fun outside of NYU’s
campus?”
You
bastard. You just can’t help yourself, can you?
“For fun? Off campus?” she questions. “I don’t
know. I mean, I just got back to New York, so I’d say that answer is pending.”
The hint of a fire blazes behind her eyes, and what leaves her gorgeous mouth
doesn’t disappoint. “And personally, I don’t think what I do for fun off campus
should be any of your concern.”
I love it. She knows when to put her foot
down. Strong, curvaceous, beautiful women are my fucking weakness.
Add The Secret to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3g46Mm0
About Max
Monroe
A
duo of romance authors team up under the New
York Times and USA Today
Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max
Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more
than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and longtime
friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so
often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two
writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most
favorite adventure thus far.
Connect
with Max Monroe
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