Lyric & Lingerie
Tracy Wolff & Katie Graykowski
Release Date: September 27, 2016
255 pages
From New York Times Bestselling author Tracy Wolff and
International Bestselling author Katie Graykowski comes
a sexy tale of love, laughter and lingerie …
Lyric Wright is an off-beat astrophysicist whose life is falling
apart around her. After losing her fiancé to a hula dancing
astrologer and losing her dress to an ill-fated leap of faith,
she’s sure there’s nowhere for her life to go but up. At least
until she sits down on a trans-Pacific flight next to the one
man she never wanted to see again—the boy she’d lost her
heart and her virginity too back before she’d learned that
friendship and football don’t equal true love.
Broken down quarterback Heath Montgomery is on a plane
ride to nowhere. Dodging the phone call he’s certain will end
his professional football career for good, he might be Texas
bound, but he knows there’s nowhere for him to go but
down. But that’s before his childhood best friend and
confidante plops back into his life wearing nothing but duct
tape and a bad attitude. Determined not to lose her again
(especially since he isn’t sure why he lost her the first time)
and desperate to outrun his own shadowy future, Heath sets
out to take Lyric on the ride of her life. Too bad she only
dates men who actually know what her butterfly nebula is …
and can find it without the help of a star chart.
Add in one passive-aggressive flight attendant with
delusions of couture, a cherry red car with a crush on Neil
Diamond, an over-protective sister with a black belt in Krav
Maga, two parents determined to marry their spinster
daughter off to the hometown hero no matter the cost, and a
whole lot of lingerie popping up in all the right places at all
the wrong times and you’ve got an unforgettable love story
that fans of Susan Elizabeth Phillips and Rachel Gibson
won’t want to miss!
Oh My God you have
to read this book!! It is funny as all get
out. And it flows so well you find
yourself trapped in the
pages till the end. I cannot wait to read more books in
this series.
This is a sweet
love story with a twist. This is not just about
Lyric and Heath and their love
story. There is this crazy ass
car that could double and a sweeter version of
Christine.
Although it did try to kill Lyrics twin Harmony who is a lot
different
that Lyric. Lyric is the sweet and nice
one and Harm
she the tough tattooed gun wearing strong one. It’s like night
and
day. But Heath told a little fib that got out of control.
He was only trying to
make Lyrics’ dad as he has been ill
and only wants her to be taken care of. But
who knew this
would put knew vigor into him. Now they are making plans
and the
more they do the more they both are hoping the lie
was the real thing, but neither
of them seems brave enough
to tell the other. Heath is determined to convince
her to
make it real but she has her reasons for not trusting him.
If only they
could both see what everyone else does.
Now before I ruin
this for you I will leave off here. I hope you
enjoy this book as much as
I did. If you do like this book,
please consider leaving a review. The Authors
really like it
when you do; they value your opinions too.
Thirty
minutes later, Lyric stood outside of the airport and stared in a mix of horror
and utter disbelief at the block long, red, low-rider, 1980s-era Cadillac
Eldorado. She peered closer. Were those curb feelers? And spinning rims?
Wanting
to bend over to get a better look but conscious of the fact that all she was
wearing was Heath’s T-shirt and a pair of boxers he’d scared up in a gift shop
that had “Don’t Mess with TexAss” on the butt, she opted for a slight lean. “Is
pimp-mobile a special upgrade at Avis?”
SETI
only paid for the sub-sub-tennis-shoe-sized compact, so she didn’t know. Maybe
rental companies didn’t offer new Cadillacs.
“I
know. It’s pretty awful, but by the time we got you dressed, all the other cars
were gone. I tried everyone from Alamo to Thrifty—nothing. I bought this off a
baggage handler. He called it his ‘Sweet Cherry Cherry.’”
Heath
clicked a button to unlock the door and neon-blue chaser lights ran around the
under carriage. “Oops, wrong one.” He clicked another button and hydraulics
hummed. The back half of the car lowered while the front half bounced up and
down like it was hopping on one foot.
Lyric
took a step back. “Keep clicking, maybe it’ll explode.” She was pretty sure
walking to San Angelo barefoot in TexAss boxers would be better than riding in
that thing. Thank God her tetanus shot was up to date.
“It’s
alive.” He clicked again. The chaser lights blinked green and purple. “Damn,
it’s a ride at Six Flags Over Studio 54.”
Heath
clicked the last button on the key fob and the doors finally unlocked. He
stepped forward, opened the passenger-side door for her. “Your chariot awaits.”
The
unmistakable scent of marijuana wafted up in waves. She held her nose. “Christ,
we’re going to be stoned from the contact high.”
He
walked around to the driver’s side and slid in. “Damn, you’re right. Roll down
the windows.” Thunder boomed, and then lightning blazed across the sky. “Okay,
roll ’um up. No wonder he sold it to me cheap—he needed to support his drug
habit.”
With
a shudder, Heath plugged the key into the ignition and turned it. As the engine
roared to life, so did the radio. The words “Baby loves me” blasted through the
speakers at top volume.
“What
the hell is that?” Lyric clapped her hands over her ears.
“I
think its Neil Diamond.” He reached over to turn off the radio. The button
wouldn’t budge. “Here, let me.”
She
shoved his hand out of the way. “I’m good with mechanical things.” She pressed
down on the button a couple times, but nothing happened. Finally, figuring there
were more ways than one to handle the situation, she turned the volume knob all
the way to the left. The sound level didn’t change appreciably, so she tried
again. Still nothing.
Beside
her, Heath was laughing his ass off as the chorus came on. “No wonder he called
it Cherry Cherry.” He wiped the tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks. Eyes
narrowed, she hit the eject button. She designed satellites for a living. She
could damn well conquer this radio. The stereo whined as it ejected the disc,
and blessed silence finally filled the car.
She
sighed in relief. “Thank God. I hate that song.” At that exact moment, the car
hiccupped, coughed, and then—with a particularly violent shimmy—the engine
died.
“What
happened?” Lyric demanded.
“I
don’t know.” Heath turned the keys in the ignition, trying to get the engine to
turn over, but nothing was happening. He pumped the gas pedal a couple of times
and turned the key again. Nothing. “Personally, I think the more appropriate
question is what did you do?”
She
was getting damn tired of that question being leveled at her. Especially since
Heath channeling Tre was a scary sight. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one
who bought a lemon.”
“She’s
a cherry, not a lemon.”
“Seriously?”
Lyric rolled her eyes at him. “Pop the hood. There must be a loose wire or
something.”
“I
will, as soon as I find the damn doohicky. It’s not where it’s supposed to be.”
He felt around under the dash. As he angled his body down to feel under the
seat, his elbow brushed against the CD that was still resting at the mouth of
the CD player. It slid back in, and as “Cherry Cherry” started to play from the
beginning, the car roared to life.
They
froze and looked at each other. “You don’t think …”
“Of
course not. You’ve obviously been reading too much Stephen King. This is not
Christine’s younger, sluttier, disco sister.” Lyric cocked her head to one side
and shot him a look.
“You
sure about that?”
“Of
course I’m sure.” Indignant now, she jabbed a finger at the eject button. Once
again, the CD slid out. Seconds later, the car gave an angry groan, and with a
very loud backfire, it died once again. She tapped the CD and it floated back
into the player. The beginning of “Cherry Cherry” started again, and the engine
roared to life. She ejected it and the car died.
Okay.
Demon possession— especially of inanimate objects—was impossible. Then again,
most people believed that humans were the only intelligent beings in the
universe … she rolled her eyes. On the whole, Homo sapiens wasn’t afflicted
with broadmindedness.
Gingerly,
she touched the dash. Was this car the unholy vessel of some crazed Neil
Diamond fan? Oh dear God. She sat back. She was obviously losing her mind.
“Okay,
that’s it,” Heath exclaimed, pushing the CD in one more time. “If you want to
get to San Angelo this year, forget God. Neil Diamond is our copilot.”
“That’s
the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Lyric peeled her legs from the seat
and tucked them under her.
Still,
he had a point. If it meant getting to her daddy, she could handle four hours
of “Cherry Cherry.” Maybe. As long as she didn’t spend too much time wondering
about what it was that made these seats so damn sticky.
Heath
rolled down the windows as he pulled out of the airport parking lot. They were
between storm clouds. “No wonder the guy smoked so much pot. He had to be
stoned to put up with this much Neil Diamond.”
Was
it her imagination, or did the volume go up?
“Sorry.”
Heath glanced around like he was looking for the spirit of Cherry Cherry.
“Nothing personal.”
The
car hiccupped, but the volume went back down.
“Thanks,
Cherry,” he said as he pulled out onto Highway 71. “
You’re
not actually talking to the car, are you?” Lyric demanded. “It can’t hear you,
you know.”
“You
sure about that?” Heath asked with a raised brow. “Because I’m not.” “
You’re
being absurd. There’s obviously a loose wire somewhere under the dash.” The car
wasn’t possessed … okay, it might have a small crush on Neil Diamond. But that
was all she was going to admit to.
·٠•● Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠· Tracy Wolff ·٠•● Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠·
Tracy Wolff collects books, English degrees and lipsticks
and has been known to forget where—and sometimes
who—she is when immersed in a great novel. At six she
wrote her first short story—something with a rainbow and
a prince—and at seven she forayed into the wonderful world
of girls lit with her first Judy Blume novel. By ten she’d read
everything in the young adult and classics sections of her
local bookstore, so in desperation her mom started her on
romance novels. And from the first page of the first book,
Tracy knew she’d found her life-long love. Now an English
professor at her local community college, she writes
romances that run the gamut from contemporary to
paranormal to erotic suspense.
And for all of those who want the unedited version:
Tracy Wolff lives with four men, teaches writing to local
college students and spends as much time as she can
manage immersed in worlds of her own creation. Married
to the alpha hero of her dreams for twelve years, she is the
mother of three young sons who spend most of their time
trying to make her as crazy as possible.
You can find Tracy also on Twitter, www.tracywolff.blogspot.com and www.sizzlingpens.blogspot.com.
Tracy Wolff also writes as Tessa Adams
·٠•● Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠· Katie Graykowski ·٠•● Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ●•٠·
I write romantic comedy with lots of heart. I like scuba diving,
Mexican food, chocolate cream cheese frosting, movies
where lots of stuff gets blown up, and sparkly things. I have
a husband, a daughter, and three K-9 kids. I'd love to hear
from you.
Shoot me an email at katiegraykowski@me.com
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