Posts Tagged ‘New Adult Fiction’

With Valentine’s Day coming up, I think it’s time we talk about the guys who should be heating up your sheets. I probably read 150+ books last year, and these fine specimens were the hottest. These books had well developed stories, plenty of angst, and lots of steamy sex…cause, c’mon, we gotta have that! These fellas definitely know what they’re doing, so if you’re looking for a little inspiration this month, check out these titles.

1. The Bad Boy Rocker… Kellan Kyle (THOUGHTLESS by S.C. Stephens)

ThoughtlessKellan is so deliciously yummy because he’s the sexy lead singer of a killer rock band, not to mention the ultimate in forbidden fruit. When Kiara agrees to move across the country with her boyfriend Denny, the sweetest Aussie you’ll ever meet, she doesn’t expect the temptation that awaits her. Their new roommate, Kellan, is the hottest thing in Seattle’s music scene. And he’s her boyfriend’s childhood friend. Off limits you say? Most definitely.

Laid back and flirty, Kellan greets her every morning, shirtless, in the kitchen with his cup of coffee. Not only does Kiara find herself spending a lot of time with Kellan because he’s home during the day, but there’s really no escaping him—his band also plays at the bar where she waitresses. To make matters worse, her relationship with Denny has a lot of bumps, one of which throws her right into Kellan’s arms. But that’s just the beginning because she’s wracked with guilt. Even though she wants Kellan, she can’t bring herself to break up with her boyfriend, who makes some major sacrifices to solidify their relationship.

Once the love triangle is in full swing, Kiara vacillates constantly, and the emotional roller coaster will make you dizzy. (Warning: You might want to scream at her, strangle her, or smack her in the face, all of which are acceptable options.) Kiara and Kellan end up having an epic argument in the rain that makes you want to curl up in the fetal position. Oh, the angst! I literally stayed up half the night reading this book.

Kellan is my number one book boyfriend because no one does sexy lead singer like S.C. Stephens. I’ve read a dozen other bad boy rocker books, and they all pale in comparison. Perhaps one of the reasons why this story works so well is because this guy seems real and not just a stereotype. I also like that his story is about the diamond in the rough. His band hasn’t made it big—yet—so his hometown charm feels like a secret you’ve been lucky to discover.  And on a cold February night, there’s no better rocker to keep you warm!

2. The Sinfully Sexy CEO… Bennett Ryan (BEAUTIFUL BASTARD by Christina Lauren)

beautiful bastardIt might be tempting to dismiss Bennett as the run-of-the-mill sexy CEO, but you’d be making a mistake by not giving him your full attention. First and foremost, he’s a total asshole. I don’t know about you, but there’s nothing hotter than a beautiful man who kind of hates you and makes you want to sock him in the face. Or rip off all of his clothes. That’s the situation with Bennett and his assistant Chloe Mills, the smart MBA who is finishing her degree by managing one of Bennett’s multi-million dollar clients.

Chloe is the only person in the office who can handle Bennett even though he seems to think she’s incompetent. But the truth is he’d never give her a huge account if he truly thought she was an idiot. Their love-hate relationship will set your panties aflame when their sexual tension reaches a boiling point. Buttons fly, body parts chafe, and naughtiness ensues…even though it’s the last thing either of them wants. He’s risking his business and reputation while she’s risking her degree, not to mention the threat of being known for sleeping her way to the top.

Now, don’t let Chloe’s acquiescence to Bennett’s excessive demands fool you. She gives as good as she gets, and the fact that she’s a shrewd business woman and not a brainless ditz (like a few characters out there who shall go unnamed) makes Bennett that much more desirable. Then there’s his penchant for doing the dirty in semi-public areas, like dressing rooms, stairwells or against the window of his high-rise office. Talk about sizzling!

If you like Bennet’s story, you’ll want to grab the subsequent companion novels, which are equally spellbinding. Christina Hobbs and Lauren Billings, who write under the name Christina Lauren, have created a seriously addictive series in the Beautiful Bastard novels. They’re a no-brainer one click for me.

3. The Dirty Talker… Drew Evans (TANGLED by Emma Chase)

tangledAll I can say is no one will make you want to have wild monkey sex like Drew Evans. Tangled is told from the guy’s perspective, and Emma Chase knocks it out of the park.

Drew is sarcastic and funny, sweet and sexy, and yeah, kind of a pig. Or at least he starts that way, bagging all the girls without apology, embracing his “boys will be boys” philosophy until he meets Kate, the one woman who will knock him on his ass. This is the guy who equates women to toothpaste and says that when you’re out of Aquafresh, what are you going to do? Yes, reach for Colgate. In other words, love the one you’re with. His manwhorishness would be a total turnoff if he weren’t so goddamn hot, but it’s this very arrogance that makes his fall from grace at the hands of Kate a thing of beauty.

Although Drew meets Kate at a bar, his lust for her turns into dismay on Monday morning when he learns she’s the newest addition to his firm. To make matters worse, she’s engaged, but that doesn’t deter Drew from strategizing how to get her to drop her drawers. But when his father, who’s the boss, lets him know that he’s giving the big client to Kate, she goes from being the girl he wants to bang to the one he wants to crush, igniting all-out war and sending the sexual tension off the charts.

The BEST part of this book, though, is that Drew is hysterical, and his folksy kind of wisdom will crack you up. At one point, he ponders why women don’t eat in front of men. He says, “Like a guy’s going to say to his friend, ‘Dude, she was one fugly chick, but once I saw her chomping that romaine, I just had to nail her.’ No man wants to fuck a skeleton—and nibbling crackers and water like a prisoner of war at dinner isn’t attractive. It just makes us think about what a cranky bitch you’re going to be later because you’re starving.” LOL! Another unique aspect to this book is how the author uses second person (you) to talk directly to the reader…as though Drew is whispering in your ear the whole time. (Yes, please! Whisper in mine!) Tangled is a hot, quick read, perfect for a February fling.

4. The Smoldering Scott… Braden Carmichael (ON DUBLIN STREET by Samantha Young)

Portrait of young  coupleWhy does the very mention of this guy make me want to fan myself? Holy sexy name. What’s better is he’s got a face and personality to match!

I had to re-read this book to pinpoint what exactly made Braden so mouthwatering. Here it is: He’s a cocky bastard. Even though Joss does her best to avoid her roommate’s brother, he pursues her like a stealth bomber. Joss, who was orphaned as a teenager, likes to shut people out. It’s how she got by after a terrible tragedy. It’s how she got by in foster care. It’s how she dealt with the guilt of her friend’s accident. But Braden wants to push her buttons and see what draws her out, which flusters her until she gives in.

Now, normally, when a guy pursues a girl with the lazer-like focus you see in this book, I’d be tempted to call him desperate, but when Braden does it, he oozes confidence, which makes you want him more. And, oh, girls, you’ll want him. But what puts him over the edge? That Scottish accent. Yeah, forget the Brits because the Scots have got it going on. So toss in a whole lot of dirty talk in a Scottish accent, a hard body and gorgeous face, and you have the panty-melting Braden. This book is full of hot sex scenes and angsty yumminess. Trust me when I say you’ll want to bump this to the top of your reading list!

5. The Gentleman… Garrick Taylor (LOSING IT by Cora Carmack)

LOSING ITWhat’s worse than almost hooking up with a guy only to run off just before all the dirty parts touch? Well, if the half-naked man you left in your bed is your new professor, then I’d say you’re in for one hell of a semester.

When Bliss sets out to have a one night stand and ditch her V-card, she has the good luck to run into Garrick, who is reading Shakespeare at a bar. (How hot is that?!) The moment he opens his mouth, his beautiful British accent captivates the inexperienced Bliss by surprise, and the next thing you know, they’re back at her place, ditching their clothes and getting cozy. But just as she’s about to reach the final frontier, she realizes she can’t do something this intimate with a guy she just met.

So what does Bliss do? She gives him the worst excuse in the history of hooking up—she tells him she has a cat she needs to pick up from the vet. At midnight. And then she runs out of her apartment in her skivvies and hides in the bushes. Yes, this is where you laugh hysterically and count your lucky stars you never had a sexual experience this humiliating. Her horror only grows when she goes to her acting class the next day to find that her professor has been replaced by the very young, very sexy, and very familiar Garrick Taylor, the man she left in her bed the night before who happens to be her neighbor. Oh, the horror! Despite the awkwardness of that hookup, Garrick is drawn to Bliss, who gets the lead role in the upcoming play, forcing them to spend more time together. Despite their attempts to maintain professional distance, their attraction is undeniable and angst ensues.

I have to say that Garrick is downright dreamy, and the end will leave you with one of those head-in-the-sky book hangovers. If you’re looking for the warm fuzzies that come from a great romance, Losing It is the novel for you.

5.5. Fuck! I have to have him… Ryke Meadows (HOTHOUSE FLOWER by Becca and Krista Ritchie)

hothouse flowerThis hot man’s book isn’t out yet. So how do I know he’ll curl your toes? Because he’s a sexy-as-shit supporting character in the Addicted series by Becca and Krista Ritchie, which I’ve devoured like a starving woman on a deserted island. (I’ll be talking about this series next week when I review my favorite “totally twisted but can’t live without” novels.)

Ryke is an alpha male dirty talker who is protective and aggressive and makes me want to throw myself at his feet and purr. And if you couldn’t tell, fuck is his favorite word. His book, HOTHOUSE FLOWER, comes out next month. SQUEAL!

Looking for a few more titles? My debut novel, DEAREST CLEMENTINE, comes out in April, and FINDING DANDELION, a companion novel, in June. Check out my Goodreads page to read excerpts and add them to your reading list:



If there is anyone who is a one-click author, it’s Cora Carmack. I’ve been a faithful devotee since I read LOSING IT. (Yes, I’m a total fangirl!) Literally the moment her books are on sale, they’re on my e-reader. You can pre-order her latest novella, SEEKING HER, which will be available on January 28. SEEKING HER features Jackson, the hottie who was hired to babysit Kelsey as she parties in Europe. (You’ll remember Kelsey as Bliss’s BFF from Losing It.) Below is a link to an excerpt.

SEEKING HER Synopsis:Best SEEKING HER by Cora Carmack

Jackson Hunt gets his turn in this Finding It prequel novella …

Jackson Hunt hasn’t been out of the military for long, but he needs to get a job and find a sense of normalcy if he is going to keep his demons at bay. The job that falls into his lap, though, is anything but normal.

Becoming bodyguard (and babysitter) to spoiled rich girl Kelsey Summers isn’t exactly what he had in mind, but it’s a chance to travel, to get away. The catch: Kelsey’s father doesn’t want her to know she’s being followed.

She’s vibrant and infuriating, exciting and reckless, mysterious and familiar. When Jackson sees her falling into the same patterns he suffered years ago, he decides it’s time to stop watching and help her instead. But getting to know Kelsey is more difficult than he thought, especially because the more he knows her, the more he wants her.


Cora Carmack Bio:Cora Carmack bio pic

Cora Carmack is a twenty-something writer who likes to write about twenty-something characters. She’s done a multitude of things in her life–boring jobs (like working retail), fun jobs (like working in a theatre), stressful jobs (like teaching), and dream jobs (like writing). She enjoys placing her characters in the most awkward situations possible, and then trying to help them get a boyfriend out of it. Awkward people need love, too. Her first book, LOSING IT, is a New York Times and USA Today bestseller.

Pre-Order Links:


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Author Goodreads:

SEEKING HER Goodreads:

Painting by Angela China. (Used with permission.)

Painting by Angela China. (Used with permission.)

When I recently told a co-worker I write New Adult fiction, she raised an eyebrow and laughed. Apparently, she thought this meant I write a new kind of erotica. This is where I blushed and pretended like I hadn’t read 50 Shades.

First of all, New Adult is not porn. It’s a category of writing in which the characters are older than Young Adult, but they don’t quite fit in Adult Contemporary. NA focuses on the lifestyles, needs and issues of characters in the 18-26 age group. So we’re talking first loves, first jobs, maybe marriage, and possibly that first bun in the oven. For me, I see it as a real coming-of-age.

While love stories in YA are sweet, I don’t honestly expect anyone in a relationship in high school to actually end up with that other person. But in NA, everything is more serious, more real. I met my husband when I was 21 and married him a few years later. (Hello, he’s a hottie. I’d have to be blind not to lock that up.) While I had been in other relationships, even a serious one, Loverboy changed the game, and all of a sudden, I saw my future in him. That’s how I view relationships in NA. With higher stakes and more intensity.

Now, I started by saying that NA is not porn, but I will add that there can be way more sex and steam than YA, but it doesn’t necessarily reach the level of erotica. If I write a sex scene, it’s because it advances the relationship, not because I’m trying to get you off. I mean, if that happens too, bonus, but that’s not my goal. I love romance, making you swoon, maybe getting you to shed a tear, and definitely making you laugh. Some of my characters are shy and demure, a couple are dirty talkers, and they all have insecurities. I hope you’ll take a ride with one of them. (That’s where you insert a “that’s what she said” joke!)

I plan to publish my first NA novel, DEAREST CLEMENTINE, in mid-March and it’s companion novel, FINDING DANDELION, this summer. Here’s an excerpt of DEAREST CLEMENTINE:

* * *

My pen resumes tracing mindless circles in the margins of my journal as I stare out the window of the dusty common room.

This is what I’ve needed to find my footing, to put everything behind me.

Down the hallway, the sound of squeaky wheels is punctuated by a groan and a thump as luggage hits the floor.

“Wait, what will happen if there’s a fire? We’re on the 18th floor,” one girl says, her vowels long and polite. A Southerner.

A deep, male voice reassures her. “I know it’s a hike down those stairs, but don’t use the elevators because the last thing you want is to get stuck between floors. I’ll check each room to make sure you’ve evacuated.”

I can’t make out the rest of the conversation until two girls shuffle by the lounge.

“Holy shit. Our RA is hot!” a girl in a sundress tells her friend as she lugs an overstuffed duffle bag. “I wonder if he has a girlfriend.”

“He’s a senior or a grad student, dork. He’s not going to be interested in you,” the other one says, her accent softening her words.

Hitting on the resident assistant, the upperclassman paid to keep an eye on all of the kids in the dorms, was never my thing. My RA freshman year, Tao, was 5’2” and into Jesus. Not my scene.

I can’t quite imagine who would want that job. Tao was always rushing some poor slob to the hospital with random broken bits. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he found my friend Sarah passed out, piss-drunk, with a broken ankle. How she managed to vomit on all four walls of her dorm room before she went down is beyond me.

Tapping my pen, I shift in my seat. My ritual always works, but it’s never taken this long. Before I go into full-out crisis mode, a voice startles me.

“Darlin’, now you don’t look like a freshman.” Turning slightly, I see him in my peripheral vision, leaning in the doorway. The RA.

“That’s because I’m not,” I say flatly.

“So what are you doing in Warren Towers? I mean, why would you willingly come here? I get paid to be here. What’s your excuse?” He’s joking. I get it. But I’m not in the mood.

“Just looking for some white noise,” I say, not looking up. I can feel his eyes on me. “Look, I’m not some creeper if that’s what you’re getting at. I just need a little inspiration.” I jot down random words, hoping something can pull me out of my writing coma: suitcases, hot RA’s, condoms, diet Coke, donuts.

Trying to ignore the intensity of his stare, I glance out the floor-to-ceiling window. Practically every college student in Boston is moving today, and the streets below are crammed with U-Haul vans and frenzied parents. I’ve always loved this view. I got my first idea here, and for the last three years, this lounge, on this floor, has been my muse. I guess I can’t say I’m not a teeny bit superstitious because, since then, every August 31, I plunk my ass down in this seat until I figure out my writing project for the year.

A quick glance to the clock has me exhaling loudly. At this rate, I’m never going to figure out my next book if I can’t get in the zone. And I have to get in the zone. The thought of being a one-hit wonder makes me want to curl up into the fetal position. Even though I’ve written three books, I’ve only had the guts to publish my first one, Say It Isn’t So, and it’s done well. Best-selling well. But that’s just it. Nothing I’ve written since then has been as good, so my other two novels sit in the bowels of my laptop, calling to me like Golem to Frodo. Who said writers aren’t crazy?

He clears his throat.

“And you thought you’d find inspiration here, a freshman dorm?” I don’t have to look up to know he’s grinning. How the hell do you hear someone smile? my inner voice quips. “Are you having any luck? Finding inspiration?”

Finally, my eyes sweep up, and my stomach instantly lurches. He’s tall with dark, shaggy hair that flops in his face. Intense green eyes stare back. The girls were right. He is good-looking. He smiles a dazzling, mega-watt grin, and my chest clenches at the thought that he probably has lickable abs. Oh, for the love of God, Clem, get a grip. I bite my lower lip until it stings. With that, my heartbeat starts to regulate, and my eyes dart back to my journal.

“No,” I say, wishing I had more time to write. “No luck with inspiration.”

My jaw clenches as my pen returns to drawing circles.

This year, my mission in life is to write something better. Better than my first book, better than my two unpublished novels. I’m aiming for fucking-kicks-ass-takes-you-by-the-balls better. But that will never happen if Henry Cavill’s doppelgänger doesn’t leave me alone.

“I’m Gavin by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say half-heartedly, packing up my stuff. My body, on autopilot, starts to move even though it’s too early. Shit! Fuck-it-all-to-hell shit! You shouldn’t go…You don’t have anything figured out yet!


“Leaving.” That inner voice sighs at me. Always such a bitch, Clem.

“Yeah, I realize that, but that’s not what I meant.” He sounds amused.

I shrug on my jacket and swing my bag over my shoulder. “I know what you meant,” I say, glancing up as he blocks my exit. He’s taller than I thought…and built…

The fact that my heart starts racing the second I smell his citrusy cologne pisses me off. I pride myself on being a modern girl, one who doesn’t need a man, especially if all he’ll do is break my heart. So the idea that this guy and his little smirk give me kamikaze butterflies aggravates me more.

Letting out an exasperated sigh as I wait for him to move out of the way, I get an eyeful of bulging bicep through his fitted t-shirt. Stop checking him out. I shake my head as I scoot around him and head for the elevator. I press the button and wait all of three seconds before I punch it again.

“You know, you’re on the 18th floor. This could take a while,” he says behind me. “I’m guessing you probably have more than enough time to tell me your name.” He chuckles, apparently undeterred by my fuck-off vibe.

I sigh. This isn’t my day. I’ve never walked out of here empty-handed before, but then the doors open, and relief floods my chest. I don’t know why I have to get away from here right now, but I do.

I get in and turn around. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest, watching me. He raises his eyebrows at me expectantly. As the doors start to close, I feel a twinge of guilt. Ugh. Fine. I roll my eyes.

“Clem. My name is Clementine.”

The doors close, but not before I catch him grin.

* * *

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