A small girl, her man and her books: 21 by Rhonda James

Title: 21

Author: Rhonda James

Release Date: September 21st, 2017

Cover Designer: Taylor James

Genre: New Adult

http://bit.ly/2wnecM4

Every girl has a breaking point…

Mine came the moment I found my boyfriend in bed with another woman. Turns out she wasn’t the first, either. Nope. Seems my guy had been screwing every available girl on campus and I’d been oblivious to all of it.

Running away with a rock band may not be the best way to handle things, but that’s exactly what I do. Two days into the adventure, I’m slapped in the face with how boring and predictable my life has been up to this point.

With my birthday fast approaching, I finally give in to my best friend’s advice and make a list. You know the kind. Every single thing I’ve been too chicken to do--until now, anyway.

The catch? Accomplishing all 21 before my birthday. Should make for an interesting month.

1) Adopt Sophie’s FUCK THE RULES motto

2) Be more adventurous

3) Kiss a random guy

4) Proposition a hot guy

5) Achieve the BIG ‘O’

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Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/2ydffeB

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Kobo: http://bit.ly/2xmR1AX

Full of vinegar, I cocked a hip and propped my hand on my waist. “Yep. In fact, I thought it would be fun to sneak off to his car and polish off a bottle of Patron just before I let him bone me in the backseat.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

Oh no, he didn’t.

“God, I hate you! I can go where I want with whomever I wa—”

I never finished my sentence.

He was on me in a flash, spinning me around and slamming me up against the wall before it even registered what was happening. One hand was around my throat while the other skimmed across my belly. I felt his warm breath on my neck as his lips ghosted over my flesh. Ragged breaths escaped my lips as the smell of fresh paint permeated my nostrils.

Music blared loudly on the other side of the wall, but back here we were alone, no one around to stop what was about to go down. Not even me. Not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t want to.

His fingers inched higher, teasing the underside of my naked breast. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you put these on tonight. Didn’t you? The whole time you were prancing around on that stage without a bra. You knew you were giving every guy out there a show.” His fingers drew a line down the center of my heaving chest as he hissed, “Fuck. Just knowing they were looking up your shirt makes me want to gouge every single one of their eyes out.”

His hand dipped lower, toying with the waist of my shorts before sliding all the way inside. The hand around my throat tightened once he discovered I wasn’t wearing panties. “Christ, woman. Are you trying to kill me?”

Holy Toledo.

I knew it might sound crazy, but the hand on my throat, the calloused pad of his finger resting on my most sensitive place, all of it worked in his favor. Any anger I’d been harboring disappeared the moment his lips touched my neck.

He rotated his hips, and desire pooled between my legs when he ground his arousal against my ass until I answered, “As a matter of fact, I was thinking maybe a slow sex-induced death where we both go with ridiculous smiles on our faces.”

“I’d happily die that death,” he agreed before burying two fingers inside me.

“Oh, God,” I moaned and rolled my hips, riding his hand while his fingers moved inside my body—violating me in a delicious yet wicked sort of way.

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but in a matter of minutes, we’d gone from arguing about my fake date to him finger fucking me in a darkened hall in the back of Devil’s Playground. At any moment, someone could come down the hall and witness what was taking place, but the new, adventurous side of me didn’t even care. It was insane and out of control, but fuck if it didn’t feel amazing having his hands on me. In that moment, I was alive and more aware of myself than I’d ever been.

I didn’t care if this was a one-time occurrence.

I didn’t care if we hated each other when it was over.

All I cared about was my impending orgasm.

And I was close. So. Very. Close.

Damn, his fingers were magic.

Rhonda James is an Amazon best-selling author who loves a good HEA, believes nice guys don’t finish last, and strives to create a book boyfriend for all her readers. Rhonda is married and lives in Michigan with her family. When not writing, some of her guilty pleasures include kissing, diving into a good book, and wasting time on Facebook, though she may do one more than the others.