Book Excerpt
Ruth entered the town car park with a lot on her mind. Major highlights included:
1. Her stomach cramps, which had gone from mild irritation to knuckle-biting pain in the space of twenty minutes.
2. The indignity of waddling about town with loo roll stuffed down her knickers.
3. The absolutely extortionate price she’d just paid for a packet of substandard tampons that didn’t even have bloody applicators.
4. Mrs. Needham, newsagent proprietor and town gossip, who would tell everyone that Ruth had come in to buy tampons as if they were Year Eight children instead of grown adults.
5. How much the average person might know about the theory of relativity. Because, the less people knew about it, the more she could get away with fudging the details for the latest issue of her web comic.
Was it really surprising, with all that to ponder, that she ran headlong into a pair of enormous men?
Ruth landed on the tarmac with an unladylike grunt. At least it was more elegant than the word currently burning through her mind: Motherfucker!
This was to be imagined, you understand, as an outraged yowl of pain.
For an instant of blissful, foolish shock, Ruth blinked down at the ground. Then she looked up slightly, just a touch—enough to see two pairs of sturdy, boot-clad feet before her. The sight of those feet, along with her embarrassment, took Ruth from mildly irritated to unreasonably angry.
But really. Those boots were entirely too solid, quite abominably stable. The men hadn’t even wobbled. They might at least pretend to be slightly unbalanced, since she was literally on the floor. Such firm uprightness in a situation like this struck her as rude.
“I’m so sorry,” one of the men said. She didn’t know which, because she refused to look up at their faces. She had quite enough to process right now without bringing faces and expressions and human lifeforms into it.
But one of the men, presumably the one who had spoken, ruined things completely by bending down to her level. He could do that, you see, because he hadn’t fallen. The prick.
He crouched before her, bringing his faded jeans into view, and then his tight, black T-shirt—what a ridiculous outfit in February—and then… well, some rather interesting musculature.
That musculature broke through Ruth’s haze of unreasonable annoyance, prodding her sharply. It said, Look at that chest! Look at those biceps! You’d better check out his face, just to see if it’s equally impressive. Quality control, and all that.
Reigning in the urge to throw a temper tantrum—she was feeling fragile, what with the tissue in her knickers—Ruth looked up.
Ruth entered the town car park with a lot on her mind. Major highlights included:
1. Her stomach cramps, which had gone from mild irritation to knuckle-biting pain in the space of twenty minutes.
2. The indignity of waddling about town with loo roll stuffed down her knickers.
3. The absolutely extortionate price she’d just paid for a packet of substandard tampons that didn’t even have bloody applicators.
4. Mrs. Needham, newsagent proprietor and town gossip, who would tell everyone that Ruth had come in to buy tampons as if they were Year Eight children instead of grown adults.
5. How much the average person might know about the theory of relativity. Because, the less people knew about it, the more she could get away with fudging the details for the latest issue of her web comic.
Was it really surprising, with all that to ponder, that she ran headlong into a pair of enormous men?
Ruth landed on the tarmac with an unladylike grunt. At least it was more elegant than the word currently burning through her mind: Motherfucker!
This was to be imagined, you understand, as an outraged yowl of pain.
For an instant of blissful, foolish shock, Ruth blinked down at the ground. Then she looked up slightly, just a touch—enough to see two pairs of sturdy, boot-clad feet before her. The sight of those feet, along with her embarrassment, took Ruth from mildly irritated to unreasonably angry.
But really. Those boots were entirely too solid, quite abominably stable. The men hadn’t even wobbled. They might at least pretend to be slightly unbalanced, since she was literally on the floor. Such firm uprightness in a situation like this struck her as rude.
“I’m so sorry,” one of the men said. She didn’t know which, because she refused to look up at their faces. She had quite enough to process right now without bringing faces and expressions and human lifeforms into it.
But one of the men, presumably the one who had spoken, ruined things completely by bending down to her level. He could do that, you see, because he hadn’t fallen. The prick.
He crouched before her, bringing his faded jeans into view, and then his tight, black T-shirt—what a ridiculous outfit in February—and then… well, some rather interesting musculature.
That musculature broke through Ruth’s haze of unreasonable annoyance, prodding her sharply. It said, Look at that chest! Look at those biceps! You’d better check out his face, just to see if it’s equally impressive. Quality control, and all that.
Reigning in the urge to throw a temper tantrum—she was feeling fragile, what with the tissue in her knickers—Ruth looked up.
About the Book
Everyone has secrets. He wants all of hers.
Meet the man next door…
After years of military service, Evan Miller wants a quiet life. The small town of Ravenswood seems perfect—until he stumbles upon a vicious web of lies with his new neighbour at its centre.
Ruth Kabbah is rude, awkward, and—according to everyone in town—bad news. Thing is, no-one will tell Evan why. Does she perform ritual sacrifices? Howl at the moon? Pour the milk before the tea? He has no clue.
But he desperately wants to find out. Because Ruth doesn’t seem evil to him; she seems lonely. And funny, and clumsy, and secretly quite sweet, and really f*%king beautiful…
The more Evan’s isolated, eccentric neighbour pushes him away, the more he wants her. Her—and all her secrets. Because there’s no way a girl like Ruth truly deserves the town’s scorn.
…Is there?
A Girl Like Her is a steamy, small town BWWM romance. Warning: this book is 65,000+ words of extreme pleasure and intense romance, ending in a HEA. There are NO cliffhangers and NO cheating. Enjoy responsibly!
Author Bio
Talia Hibbert is a writer and educator from England, U.K., by way of both the West Indies and West Africa. She wrote her first romance aged 12, and was promptly scolded by her teacher because her story of love in the jungle wasn’t ‘proper’.
Since then, Talia’s romances have improved in quality and hugely increased in heat. She now writes erotic, interracial romances about dirty Brits. They still aren’t proper, but they are a lot of fun.
In her free time, she eats too much ice cream and watches K Drama on Netflix.
She also spends a serious amount of time on social media, so make sure you stay connected.
And, as Talia would say… that’s all, folks. Love and biscuits!
Links
U.S. http://amzn.to/2FqDgmo
UK: http://amzn.to/2oZHp9W
Everyone has secrets. He wants all of hers.
Meet the man next door…
After years of military service, Evan Miller wants a quiet life. The small town of Ravenswood seems perfect—until he stumbles upon a vicious web of lies with his new neighbour at its centre.
Ruth Kabbah is rude, awkward, and—according to everyone in town—bad news. Thing is, no-one will tell Evan why. Does she perform ritual sacrifices? Howl at the moon? Pour the milk before the tea? He has no clue.
But he desperately wants to find out. Because Ruth doesn’t seem evil to him; she seems lonely. And funny, and clumsy, and secretly quite sweet, and really f*%king beautiful…
The more Evan’s isolated, eccentric neighbour pushes him away, the more he wants her. Her—and all her secrets. Because there’s no way a girl like Ruth truly deserves the town’s scorn.
…Is there?
A Girl Like Her is a steamy, small town BWWM romance. Warning: this book is 65,000+ words of extreme pleasure and intense romance, ending in a HEA. There are NO cliffhangers and NO cheating. Enjoy responsibly!
Author Bio
Talia Hibbert is a writer and educator from England, U.K., by way of both the West Indies and West Africa. She wrote her first romance aged 12, and was promptly scolded by her teacher because her story of love in the jungle wasn’t ‘proper’.
Since then, Talia’s romances have improved in quality and hugely increased in heat. She now writes erotic, interracial romances about dirty Brits. They still aren’t proper, but they are a lot of fun.
In her free time, she eats too much ice cream and watches K Drama on Netflix.
She also spends a serious amount of time on social media, so make sure you stay connected.
And, as Talia would say… that’s all, folks. Love and biscuits!
Links
U.S. http://amzn.to/2FqDgmo
UK: http://amzn.to/2oZHp9W
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