Today we have the blog tour for Dead and Gone by Jennifer Rebecca! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today:
Title: Dead and Gone
Author: Jennifer Rebecca
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Cover by Alyssa Garcia at Uplifting Designs.
About Dead and Gone:
Three weeks ago, Trent and I were deep into the Honeymoon stage of love, I swore I wouldn’t be the first one to rock the boat—Lord knows with our two Irish tempers it would happen soon enough—so when he made me promise to keep my nose and our grandmothers out of his investigation, I did.
It didn’t hurt that his head was buried between my legs at the time either. But then Daisy called me begging for help and what kind of bestie would I be if I shut the door in her face? That’s right, a sh*tty one. So I packed up our grandmothers and their gogo boots, g-strings and pasties to get to the bottom of things. Only problem is if Trent catches us I’ll be dead meat, folks.
My name is Shelby Whitmore, Funeral and Obituaries columnist for the San Diego Metro News and most likely to be single again if I survive this sh*t. But hey, at least I’m still a hit with the blue hairs . . .
I snuggle into Trent’s side while we wait for the kid working valet to bring the car around. Wine makes me extra cuddly. I let my hands do a little wandering as I trace a fingernail around his back in circles and curlicues.
Eventually my hand and I get a little bored, and I let it wander down to cup a handful of Trent’s backside. He has a spectacular ass, and I like to worship at its altar. I think that I may bite it tonight. It’s very bitable.
“Eeep!” he squeals like a girl when I pinch one of his cheeks.
“Jesus, Shell,” he rumbles in my ear.
“What?” I ask as I look up into his handsome face with my eyes wide and drunkenly innocent.
“Nothing,” he says with a chuckle as the car pulls up.
Trent opens my door for me and I climb inside, buckling my seat belt as he shuts the door behind me. He meets the valet kid around the curb and offers him a tip in exchange for the keys before climbing into the driver’s seat and heading toward the interstate to take us back to his house.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks me once we’re safely cruising up the I-15 toward Escondido.
“I was thinking that I need a master class in blow jobs,” I answer before I can censor my mouth.
“Really?” He chokes out a laugh.
“Yeah.” I shrug my shoulder. “I feel that my education is sorely lacking at the moment.”
“Well, I, for one, think your education in the subject is just fine.”
“Yeah?” I say, having a brilliant idea. I unbuckle my seat belt and lean across the center console. “Maybe I should practice a little more.”
I trace a fingertip up and down the ridge in his slacks before deciding to undo his pants and pull his cock free.
“Shelby?” he asks as I stroke his length in my fist.
“Shh,” I tell him. “I’m practicing.”
“Oh God,” he moans when I lean forward and suck the tip into my mouth.
I twirl my tongue around the tip again and again. Trent shifts in his seat as he speeds up the highway. I love the way he shifts his hips around in his seat and the girly little whimpers he makes. It turns me on.
But it’s when I dip my hand down into his pants and cup his balls that Trent yelps and takes a sharp right onto the off-ramp from the highway. I flop back and forth across the center console of Trent’s SUV like a drunken monkey—mostly because I am right now—and the movement makes me bob up and down his hard length with rapid momentum.
Trent takes another sharp turn onto the road that leads to his Spanish-style home in the northern hills of Escondido. Unfortunately, the city is doing some heavy road construction in this area and there are a lot of potholes and torn-up places that haven’t been smoothed over yet. The effect is me braced on my belly over the center console while Trent and the road try to buck me off like an eight-second ride on a bull with an ominous name, like The Devil’s Cock Block. I don’t know if that’s something the PBR would name a bull, but it would sure as shit scare me! The only things I have to hold on to as I flop around inside the vehicle while we travel up this highway to hell at a high rate of speed just so happens to be Trent’s balls.
This only makes his foot press down harder on the accelerator while trying to buck me off.
Here in California, a simple roadwork job can take anywhere from six months to ten years. It’s a crapshoot as to how long it will take. Uncle Sal, Granny, and I usually take part in a pool when the paper announces the start of a new job. Here’s another job I won’t be diving into for another ten years. That is, if I survive this one. The current outlook is not so good.
Trent reaches the crest of the hill and rounds the corner, pulling right into the driveway. He manages to slam on the brakes and stop just mere inches before he would have plowed right through the closed garage door. I let go of my hold on him when the car stops, and I fall into a heap of cute drunk girl on the floorboards.
“Jesus, Shelby!” Trent practically shouts. “Are you all right?”
“Sure,” I answer. “Look! I stuck the dismount! Now help me out; I might be stuck.”
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About the Author:
Jennifer is a graduate of California State University San Marcos where she studied Criminology and Justice Studies. She is also an Alpha Xi Delta.
10 years ago, she was swept off her feet by her very own sailor. Today, they are happily married and the parents of a 8 year old and 6 year old twins. She can often be found in East Texas on the soccer fields, drawing with her children, or reading. Jennifer is convinced that if she puts her fitbit on one of the dogs, she might finally make her step goals. She loves a great romance, an alpha hero, and lots and lots of laughter.