Cover Reveal: Game Changer by Sylvie Stewart with excerpts
Game Changer
by Sylvie Stewart
Release: July 18, 2019
Genre: Contemporary Rom-Com
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/gamechanger_gr
Blurb:
There are three things I know about New York so far: everybody is late for something, nobody has a freakin’ clue what sweet tea is, and King Kong himself is still alive and well and has taken the form of a growly blacksmith named Mac.
This is no shifter story and I’m not his prey, although I wouldn’t say no if he asked for a little taste. I’ve been saddled with interviewing the beast to secure my new dream job in publishing, but his intense stares and monosyllabic responses are making my job impossible. I just need to get this over with and move on to navigating my new life and career. I’ve got this, right?
But my professional and personal challenges are proving bigger than I realized, and Mac might be the only one who truly understands this game. He’ll be my biggest ally if I let him—and the way he keeps saying my name makes me really want to let him. The thing is, this city is known for breaking hearts, and it doesn’t care if you’re the new girl in town or the beast who calls it home.
Buy Links: Kindle Unlimited
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2WCueKN
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2Kgl0Cn
Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2MNL8Xb
Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2ML6Ta8
Universal Link: viewbook.at/GameChangerSS
Playlist:
Follow the Author:
Website: https://sylviestewartauthor.com
Facebook: https://facebook.com/SylvieStewartAuthor
Goodreads: https://goodreads.com/author/show/15303783.Sylvie_Stewart
Reader Group: https://facebook.com/groups/SylviesSpot
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/sylvie-stewart
Newsletter: https://bit.ly/SylvieNews
Amazon: https://amazon.com/-/e/B01ESDMZY8
Instagram: https://instagram.com/sylvie.stewart.romance
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/sylviestewartauthor/
Books+Main: https://bookandmainbites.com/SylvieStewart
Twitter: https://twitter.com/sylvie_stewart_
Excerpts:
1)
Mac is jaywalking toward me, a pair of dark sunglasses pushed up into his mess of black hair and his uniform of work boots, denim, and t-shirt—this one army green—hugging his hard body like they don’t ever want to let go. Not that I blame them. He practically glides as he walks without a trace of self-consciousness or pretense, the fabric of his clothes straining with each movement. I want to straddle his thigh and ride it like a circus pony. I mean, this dude is ridiculous with his degree of absolute solidity, not to mention his towering height.
I’m so busy checking out his body that I don’t notice until too late that he’s been tracking my eyes, something I know by the slight upward tilt of the left side of his mouth and the set of parentheses etched between his lush eyebrows.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip and I don’t even try to pretend he hasn’t struck me stupid.
2)
“Mac.” His name comes out without my permission and with a tone of longing I certainly didn’t intend. His response is to dip his head down and raise both hands to my face. But only the pads of his thumbs make contact, tracing the line of my jaw on either side and sending a shiver through me.
“Go spend time with your sister.” The deep timbre of his voice does nothing to help my current condition.
His thumbs stroke back toward my chin and I forget I even have a sister.
“I’ll call you.” I watch his lips form the words right before he lowers his head down all the way and captures my lips with his.
His kiss is hard and assertive, just like him.
He takes my breath with the first bruising contact of his mouth on mine, drawing my upper lip between his and sliding the tip of his wet tongue across it as my own lips finally catch on that full lower curve that’s been driving me nuts. His skin there is soft and pliant in contrast to the scruff of his trimmed beard scraping against my chin. But I don’t care if I have beard burn for the rest of my life because my sex thrums and my body screams to get closer.
He doesn’t embrace me or even try to feel me up, unfortunately. This kiss is all about lips and tongue and the firm press of his thumbs holding my face exactly where he wants it.
The delicious assault on my senses continues while his mouth slants for another taste and my hands finally reach up to rest on his firm chest. Even through the double layers of cotton I can feel the warmth of his skin and the contraction of his pecs at my touch.
When he finally releases me, I’m a puddle of goo and have only remained upright due to my grip on Mac’s shirt and the frame of the taxi pressing into my back.
He’s not even the least bit winded when he guides me down to a seated position and leans into the cab. His whiskers brush against the side of my face and his warm breath tickles my ear as he gets real close.
“Oh, and, Poppy,” he grinds out.
“Yeah,” I pant.
“I don’t hate you.” He pulls back and I just stare.
“Okay.”
He closes the taxi door and I collapse against the seat wondering if that man has ever made an exit that wasn’t completely earthshattering.
My guess is a big fat no.
3)
I tuck my hair behind my ear again and his eyes narrow like something he doesn’t like just occurred to him.
“Where’re you staying now?” His voice drops even deeper and I can feel it in my gut.
I shoo him off, feigning a relaxed vibe. “Oh, I’m crashing at a friend’s place. I just moved here from Savannah.”
This earns me another of his slower nods. I’m beginning to understand the difference between the two. The curt one means, “Okay” or “Yeah, and don’t bother asking again” while the slow one means he’s thinking on something and is probably gonna blow your mind with what comes out of his mouth next.
And, yup, I must be brilliant because he confirms this with his next words.
“I’ll bring the delivery myself on Thursday, then take you out.”
Holy mother of David Beckham‘s backside.
When I don’t respond, because, let’s face it, my brain is still trying to process what just happened, he does one of his quick nods and starts walking back to the front of the studio. My eyes glue themselves to his ass in those jeans and I have to scurry to keep up with him when I realize he’s leaving and my boots are still nailed to the floor.
Without another word, we make our way to the front doors where he holds one open for me and I find myself back out on the sidewalk. New York has been buzzing on as usual while I’ve been lost in the Narnia of Mac’s building. The sound of chatter, car horns, and sirens are an assault, breaking whatever spell I was under.
Mac whistles and a cab stops at the curb in point-two seconds—without him even needing to raise a hand, of course. He opens the door for me and I know I should say something. I should tell him I’m not the kind of girl who dates gorillas. I’m not the kind of girl who can have a fling with a guy while he’s dating Charlize Theron. I’m not the kind of girl who can handle the emotions he’s stirring in me or pretend having a meal and owning a piece of furniture he created with his hands is no big deal.
But I don’t say any of those things.
Instead, I let him pay for my cab and shut the door with nothing more than a gravelly, “Thursday.”
Then I faint dead away in the cab. Not really, but would you blame me if I had?
2
