Check out OUT OF LOVE by R.C. Boldt! It’s on tour this week and releases December 6th! Check it out and grab your copy today!
About Out of Love:
Foster Kavanaugh, former Navy SEAL, knows what it’s like to be the top dog, the man in charge, the one calling the shots. Now that he’s running his own security consulting firm, not much has changed.
Except the curvy blonde he hired as his office manager.
Noelle Davis has been through the damn ringer. Swearing off men after escaping a toxic relationship, she’s grateful for a fresh start—new job included. Of course, her job isn’t tranquil and calm. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Because her boss is the most infuriating man on the planet.
And, not to mention, sexy as hell.
Foster has limits. Rules. No attachments allowed because he doesn’t do love—and Noelle Davis foiled that plan and took a red pen to his list of rules. With her smart mouth and quick witted banter, he found the woman beginning to creep past his defenses.
When circumstances put Noelle in a perilous position, the first person to come to her rescue is none other than Foster Kavanaugh. She gets to see the man in action—not as her aggravating boss, but the man who will stop at nothing to ensure her safety.
The same man who makes her want to reconsider her self-imposed embargo of men.
The man she wants to get to know now that she’s seen another side of him.
The man who makes her want…more.
But is more possible when you’re OUT OF LOVE?
**Out of Love is a full-length, standalone novel that does NOT need to be read in conjunction with any other book. **
Excerpt: The truth is, I do like his naked chest. A little too much. When he, without any hesitation, removed his own shirt to pull it down over me, recognizing the breeze might be slightly chilly for me, I nearly melted right then and there. Because the last time I had a man do that for me was back in Never Happened B.C.
But I have to stop this—this route my mind’s taking—because it’s far too dangerous. To recognize Foster Kavanaugh is a good guy is one thing. To start getting all kinds of romantic thoughts about him is a completely different—and not smart—thing. So that means I need a recap.
Facts I need to remember about Foster:
- He is a manwhore.
- I work for him.
- I need my job.
- He’s super hot.
- His chest is beautiful.
- Where was I going with this? Shit.
- Foster is a big NO. No, no, no, noooooo.
I take another sip of my wine. Then a gulp because not only are my nerves shot, but I need to get my shit together. I need to stay on track. My whole plan for moving here was to start over, to start fresh and not get tied up with a guy for a while. At least until I found one who would treat me right; one who wouldn’t end up going all psycho on me. And the truth is, I haven’t really been tempted by any of the guys I’ve met since moving here.
Okay, okay. That’s a lie. Clearly. If I didn’t have all this damn “baggage” that, more now than ever before, would let me unpack and discard it once and for all, I would likely have been interested in Foster. Because, geez Louise… He’s delicious. But he’s a manwhore. I don’t want to simply be another notch on the man’s bedpost. I deserve better. My vajayjay, however, is a slut, and she wants Foster. Baaaaad.
Truth is, I love my job and my new life here. I was welcomed with open arms by Foster’s mother—whom everyone calls Momma K.—and Foster’s sister, Laney, who’s a freaking riot, as well as the rest of the gang. I don’t want anything forcing me to leave this place I’ve come to think of as home.
Setting my wine glass back on the table, I pull my legs up to rest my heels on the edge of the chair, wrapping my arms around them. Resting my chin atop my knees, I close my eyes, listening to the sound of the crashing waves upon the shoreline less than a hundred yards away. I’m not sure how long I sit, letting the ocean breeze mixed with the scent of the citronella candles wash over me, before I realize there’s another familiar fragrance I’m picking up. Lowering my head slightly, I sniff Foster’s shirt that’s engulfing me and the smell of cologne, or deodorant, or whatever the hell he wears, which is nearly intoxicating.
Who knows how long I would have continued sniffing his shirt like one of those creepers who collects random women’s underwear, lives with his mother at age fifty, and skins cats alive for fun, when I suddenly hear a strange sliding noise from behind me.
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About R.C. Boldt:
RC Boldt is the wife of Mr. Boldt, a retired Navy Chief, mother of Little Miss Boldt, and former teacher of many students. She currently lives on the southeastern coast of North Carolina, enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you’re in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can’t recall the lyrics to a particular 80’s song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she’s your girl.
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