Tia Louise's Blog: ONE TO BLOG - Posts Tagged "romantic-comedy"

Is this not the most GORGEOUS cover, reader-friends??? HUGE THANKS goes to cover designer Shanoff Formats and photographer Wander Aguiar for making it possible. Cover model David Wills doesn't hurt much either--LOL!

ENTER TO WIN!!! Ilsa and I are giving away a SIGNED Advance Review Copy (ARC) and a $50 Amazon Gift Card.

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THE LAST GUY is a sexy stand-alone love story featuring a smoking hot ex-NFL player, a scrappy TV reporter, one fabulous drag queen, too much Fireball, attack monkeys, naughty hookups that "should not be happening!!!" -- lots of laughs, and OF COURSE an out-of-this-world happily ever after...

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THE LAST GUY
by Ilsa Madden-Mills and Tia Louise

The first rule of office romance is don’t do it—especially if your dream is to hold the anchor spot on the nightly news and your boss is trying to get you fired.

But one look at Cade Hill, the sexy new sports director, and uptight reporter Rebecca Fieldstone is daydreaming about other things.

Sex in his office…
Sex in the on-set kitchen…
Sex in the supply closet…

She can’t stop thinking about the former NFL quarterback and how perfect he’d look between her sheets—except he’s an arrogant jerk with a huge… Ego.

He’s the last guy she’d ever have a one-night stand with.

Cade Hill draws a thick professional line on office romance—until it comes to the hyper-focused Rebecca. He wants her, and he gets his wish when a chance encounter has them having the hottest sex of their lives.

It’s just a hook-up, she says.
When can we do it again? he says.

With Rebecca determined to keep Cade in the friend zone, it’s going to be an uphill battle for Cade to convince her that he’s the last guy for her…

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MWAH!!!!
xoxo

★★★ GOODREADS EXCERPT ★★★
THE RIGHT STUD
By Tia Louise & Ilsa Madden-Mills
© Ilsa-Louise Books, 2018

Ashton

Few things in life are as jaw-dropping amazing as Jax Roland emerging from the surf, muscles bulging, water running down the lines of his face, dripping from the ends of his hair… Jean Claude van Ram a rigid brown log in his arms, legs extended.

Okay, that last part I could’ve done without.

It takes less than a minute after he puts that asshole goat on the ground for JC to jump up and head straight for the shrub roses. I don’t even have time to say thank you before I’m charging up the hill after him.

“Oh, no you don’t!”

My overwhelming sadness at the prospect of losing Granny’s house, even my semi-gratitude toward Jax for averting Lulu’s anger over letting her precious goat drown, are forgotten in the race to save my grandmother’s flowers.

In addition to the house, they feel like my final connection to her, the plants she lovingly cultivated every year in her funny hat.

“Did you see that?” Mrs. C meets me at the gate. “He charged down there like Adonis heading into battle. It’s been a while since I’ve felt so stimulated. Reminds me of the time Mr. C talked me into taking a bite of a serrano pepper.”

I don’t have time to correct her Greek mythology or even ask why Mr. C was always taunting her with hot peppers. “Where did that bastard go?”

She jumps back, confused. “Rufus? I put him in his cage. It was time for his nap.”

“Jean Claude! He’ll eat everything!” Pushing past her, I continue running around the house, weighing my concern about Lulu’s anger versus killing that goat with my bare hands.

When I finally make it to the top of the hill, I see him, standing on the porch, his head plunged into the middle of my sweet olive, chomping away.

“Stop, you heartless bastard!” I catch him by the collar and drag him out of the deep-green leaves.

I look around, trying to decide what I’m going to do now. This jerk already chewed through the rope Lulu tied him with.

“Ashton.” The deep male voice pulls my attention to the top of the path.

Jax stands there looking all kinds of sexy with his tee stretched over his broad chest and his wet hair pushed back from his face. In his hand is a silver hook and a thin cable.

“What is that?” I drag the goat to where Jax is standing.

“I had it in the trunk of my car. It’s from a job I was doing. The owners had really big dogs.”

“He can get out of anything. I told Lulu not to bring him here again.”

“Lulu’s your friend?” He comes to where I’m standing and clips the hook through a loop on JC’s collar.

“Possibly ex-best friend.”

“You can’t really tether goats.” He gently extends the silver cable into the yard. From the soaked back pocket of his shorts, he pulls a metal stake. I watch as he loops the other end around it and pushes it into the ground. “How long do you expect to babysit him?”

“She’s got one hour left. Then we’re digging a pit. Roasted goat is delicious.”

The ripple of laughter from Jax’s throat does funny things to my insides...

* * *
THE RIGHT STUD IS LIVE!!!
He’s the smokin' hot star of a hit home improvement show—and her new roommate...

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THE RIGHT STUD
By Tia Louise & Ilsa Madden-Mills
© Ilsa-Louise Books, 2018

Jax

At the top of the hill, the kitchen is lit up like a beacon in the night, and soft strains of Motown drift down to my ears. Ashton moves around the room, slow-dancing with a bowl in her arms.

Her lips move, and I think she’s singing along as she stirs. My stomach tightens as I watch her slowly sway in the yellow light. She’s wearing a thin dress, and her dark hair is tied in a loose ponytail at the back of her neck. A few strands hang in pretty curls around her face.

Her eyes close as she puts the wooden spoon in her mouth, and I swallow the need in my throat. They blink open again, and she smiles as if she’s thinking about something naughty. I can’t take it.

My scalp is tight. The blood surges hot in my veins, burning under my skin as I charge up the path. I’m up the stairs, crossing the porch to the screen door leading into the kitchen. The door slams behind me, and she spins around, hazel eyes wide.

“Jax… Where did you go? I was just thinking—”

“I had to stay away. I thought I could distract myself, refocus…” I close the space between us in two steps and pull her soft body against mine. My hands grip her too hard, my voice is too rough. “I can’t stop thinking about you, about how much I want you.”

Her eyes darken, and she reaches out to put the bowl on the counter. “But we have to work together. It could cause problems…”

“Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Every muscle in my body aches, waiting for her answer. Music floats in the air around us and everything is poised, waiting for what she’s about to say.

Her pink lips part. Her tongue touches her bottom lip, and she says the words I’ve been dying to hear. “Don’t stop.”

Our mouths are together before she finishes speaking. Tongues unite, curling and caressing. She tastes like wine and sweet sugar. I pull her lips, nipping her with my teeth, devouring her. She moans, and it registers straight to my rigid cock.

Reaching down, I grasp her smooth thighs, dragging her skirt higher and tracing my fingers along the line of her panties, dipping inside to feel her slick and wet.

“Jax…” She gasps, and I lift her off her feet, carrying her to the stairs.

Her mouth is on my neck. I feel her taste me as she follows a trail of burning kisses up to my ear before pulling it between her lips. I groan deeply at the sensation. The heat in my pelvis, the pressure, is blanking my mind. I take the steps two at a time, crossing the landing and pushing through my door, kicking it closed.

She’s on her feet, and our mouths are together again. We kiss like ravenous animals. Our hands are everywhere, fumbling with buttons, ripping at fabric. My jeans are long gone. Her soft breast is in my hand. Did I tear her dress?

She tugs at my shirt, and I step back, ripping it over my head. Then we’re together again, her body so soft against mine, cool to my hot, delicate to my strong.

I kiss her shoulder, biting her skin as she makes those delicious little moans. She touches my stomach, tracing her hand down to my length. I groan, threading my fingers in the ends of her dark, silky hair to give it a slight pull. Her chin lifts, and I cover her mouth again, drinking her in, consuming her desire like a drug...

* * *
THE RIGHT STUD IS LIVE!
He’s the smokin' hot star of a hit home improvement show—and her new roommate...

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EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT
WHEN WE KISS
By Tia Louise
© TLM Productions LLC, 2018

Tabby

I see Chad appear at the top of the church steps. An old lady is on his arm as if he’s an Eagle Scout.

All the old ladies want to hold his arm. They act like they’re so feeble they can’t walk to their cars without his help. The truth is they’re just pervy and want to stroke his muscles.

He catches my eye and hands Gwendolyn Smith off to a noodle-armed old man before slowly walking down the steps to where I’m standing.

Today, I’m dressed in a demure yellow sundress, sandals, and I’ve traded my signature red-velvet lipstick for a nude matte. My eyes are still done, though. Duh.

That smug grin on his face shouldn’t be so sexy at church. “Good morning, Miss Green, I trust you had a restful night.”

“I’m a little tired, actually.” I pretend to yawn, looking over my shoulder at the gardenia bushes.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Not really. I drove down to Fireside and played poker with the truckers off the Interstate for a while after you left. I guess it was about four when I got to bed. If I hadn’t promised to be here today, I’d probably have slept until noon.”

His eyes narrow, and I know he’s trying to decide if I’m lying.

Of course, I’m lying, but I’m not about to say I slipped into a warm bath and rubbed one out to the memory of his sexy bod until I was so relaxed, I slept like a baby.

Standing in front of him in my sandals, my head only reaches the top of his broad shoulders, and up close, in broad daylight, it’s hard to look him straight in the face. He has a rugged manner like a soldier, but his features are elegant, refined—a straight nose, square jaw, and light brown eyes.

When he smiles, those dimples just push it all over the top. Not to mention he smells like heaven, all fresh and clean and manly.

He really is too sexy to be our future sheriff. I foresee a rise in petty crime among the blue-haired Sunday school ladies. Oh, Sheriff Tucker! Did I do that?

He lets my story about playing poker with the truckers pass. “How did you like the service?” he asks instead.

“It was okay, I guess.” I’m acting bored. I should get an Oscar—or at least a Daytime Emmy. “Uncle Bob used to have more fire when I was a kid. He seems to be cooling down now. How can anyone be expected to have anxiety and indigestion all week on that milquetoast? I’ll be lucky if I even need a Tums after lunch.”

Chad grins at that. A little glint hits his pretty, pretty eyes, and I notice he has one crooked tooth on the side. It’s right in line with that cheek dimple, and when my gaze meets his, my panties melt right off.

“Have lunch with me.” He says it so fast, I’m pretty sure the invitation surprises him as much as it does me.

My breath leaves my lungs, and it takes a second for me to remember why this is a bad idea. “I’m having lunch with Emberly.”

His dark brow furrows. “Don’t you have lunch with Emberly every day?”

He’s right. I work at the bakery, so I spend every day of the week with my best friend.

“Yes… well… today’s special.” I glance over to where she’s still talking to Betty Pepper. “We’re supposed to be planning out a way to attract more of the tourists up this way.”

Not only do I sound nervous, I’m talking too fast. All of it makes me want to hit stop and start all over again. Being flustered in front of Chad is not how I want to come across.

He nods, semi-accepting my answer. “I have to work tonight.”

He looks down at his shoes. He’s so tall, and his shoulders are so broad. I picture myself climbing him like a tree.

“Robbie’s getting ready to retire.” My voice is quiet, thoughtful.

A young, male voice interrupts us. “Hey, Tabitha. How’s it hanging?”

It’s Jimmy Rhodes, and I want to crawl inside the gardenia bushes. Everything is replaced with my humiliation from last year. I was caught. Skinny dipping. In the nine hundred year old Plucky Duck motel pool. In my underwear. With this child pretending to be a man.

Oh. My. God.

I’m never smoking pot again.

“Keep walking, Kid.” Chad laughs as he says it, but there’s a hint of something more in his tone.

Something like jealousy?

Jimmy’s shoulders slump, but he does as he’s told. As much as I’m burning with humiliation, and as much as I do not want to encourage Jimmy’s teenage crush, I can’t help feeling a little ruffled feathers. Chad is acting awfully possessive.

“Go out with me on Friday.” He turns to me again, and his expression is serious, a little fierce.

It does strange things to my insides.

“No,” I say too fast, and he exhales a laugh.

“So it’s still like that?”

Between humiliation, lust, and church, my emotions are as mixed up as a bowl of spaghetti.

I don’t know what it’s like. I just know bad girls don’t date cops. It’s a recipe for disaster. One of us will end up wanting more than the other is willing or even capable of giving, and it will be painful and awful.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” My voice is quiet, and I’m being as honest with him as I’ve ever been with anybody.

His grin melts, and a little line forms between his brow as he processes what I’ve just said, like he understands. “Then I guess… I’ll see you around.”

“Not if I see you first.”

I swear my mouth has a mind of its own. It doesn’t matter. That irresistible dimple appears, and I know I haven’t scared him off.

The knowledge of that fact scares me even more.

“Either way, I’ve got my eye on you,” he teases.

“I don’t need a guard dog.”

“Everybody needs somebody watching their back.”

“I’ve got Emberly.”

We take a pause while our eyes travel across the bright green lawn to where my best friend is still talking to Betty Pepper. Only now, Coco is hopping all around her. My goddaughter is an adorable bundle of energy, brunette ringlets, and sunshine, and she’s been on a kangaroo kick for a month. It makes me smile, and when I glance up, I notice Deputy Tucker has a grin on his lips as well.

“She might have her hands full.” He turns those sexy eyes on me, and I almost cave.

Can’t do that. “We look out for each other.”

He slides a large hand in his front pocket. “Have a nice day, Tabitha.”

He’s letting me go for now, but it’s getting harder to resist the temptation...

* * *

Eeeek!!!! Things are just getting started for these two...

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EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT - NSFW
WHEN WE KISS
By Tia Louise
© TLM Productions LLC, 2018

Tabby

It’s straight up noon when the knock comes on my door. My heart thuds in my chest, and I run to open it, catching my breath when our eyes meet.

“Hey, beautiful.” Chad’s low voice sends a zing right to my core, and I pull him inside quickly.

He’s on me at once, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me hard, forcing my lips apart and plunging his tongue into my mouth. I let out a little whimper. He’s so demanding and aggressive.

“I’ve been going crazy all day thinking about your tight, wet pussy,” he groans against my skin. “Don’t tease me like that again.”

My stomach flips at his dirty mouth. “Stop bossing me around.”

“I’ll boss you around.” Stepping back, he unfastens the top two buttons of his uniform shirt before pulling it over his head, leaving his thick brown hair a sexy mess. His white undershirt is next, until he’s standing in front of me, heaving muscles and raw sex wearing only his boots and pants.

I pull the tie on my wrap dress, ready to be naked immediately and all over that. It falls open, exposing the black lace bra and thong I’m wearing. I’m about to reach around and unclasp it when he catches my hand.

“Not yet.” Pulling my body against his chest, he scans my small house. “I’ve been thinking about this for months.”

“Months?” I lean forward, running my nose along the side of his neck, inhaling his scent, slipping out my tongue to taste his salty skin. “We haven’t been together that long.”

“You think I wasn’t watching your sexy ass?” He backs me toward the bedroom. “I wanted to do this standing up. I guess the bed will have to do.”

Out come the handcuffs, and my heart beats so fast. “I’ve never been handcuffed before.”

His brown eyes darken. “I’ll have to make it memorable.”

“We don’t have much time.”

“It doesn’t take long to have you screaming my name.”

“So arrogant.” But it’s true—bring out the snake!

Holding my waist, he helps me scoot up the bed on my back, then taking both my hands, he puts the handcuffs around one of the iron rods in my headboard before loosely locking them around my wrists. They’re cold metal and a little uncomfortable, but I’m distracted by him stepping back from the bed and slowly unfastening his pants.

I’m completely at his mercy, handcuffed to the headboard in only my bra and panties, and I’m nervous and thrilled at the same time.

I roll onto my side, and the way my hands are tied presses my breasts together. His eyes don’t leave them as he shoves his pants down and off, allowing that massive erection to spring free.

A little whimper escapes from my throat, and I instinctively rub my thighs together as he grasps his cock, tugging it slowly and moving his hand over the tip.

“So fucking sexy,” he hisses. “Are you wet for me?”

“Yes.” I answer fast. I’m burning up inside, wondering what he’s about to do next.

He tosses a condom on the bed beside me before stepping forward and hooking his thumbs in the sides of my thong…

* * *

WHOOOT!!!! Tabby + Chad = sooo HOT!

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THIS MUCH IS TRUE
By Tia Louise
© TLM Productions LLC, 2020

J.R.

With my back to the San Francisco traffic, I hold the railing of the iconic, vermillion bridge and watch the sun set over the Pacific Ocean.

Two hundred and forty-five feet below me, the frigid water of the bay swirls past, and behind me is the building where I spent the last eighteen months of my life, paying for a crime I didn’t commit.

My hair is long to my collar. My body is lean and ripped with muscle to intimidate anyone who thought he’d get the best of me.

I’ve lived with the funk of brown Lysol, body odor, and urine so long, I forgot fresh air could smell so sweet.

At five p.m., a guard came to my cell, rattled the bars like some old cheesy black and white movie, and told me to get my shit together.

Time to go.

I was halfway through a four-year prison sentence, and last night, they said it was over, early release.

Confused is an understatement for how I felt, but I wasn’t about to argue. I started making plans.

“You can thank the tree huggers for this miscarriage of justice.” The woman behind the desk scowled as she spoke, like the words tasted bad. “Wouldn’t want you getting sick. It might violate your civil rights.”

Rage smoldered in my chest, and I didn’t make eye contact with her. This whole eighteen months has been a violation of my civil rights, but why should she care?

Since the start of this nightmare, nobody cared. I said it once, twice, three thousand times. I. Didn’t. Do. It.

Nobody gave a shit.

Not even my court-appointed lawyer believed me. I was caught with illegal human growth hormone, and that’s all they saw. No one looked at the receipt for perfectly legal adaptogen supplements, which is what I thought I was picking up. I was a redneck from South Carolina with a trunk full of HGH. Case closed.

I entered San Quentin and kept my head down. I made allies with the biggest, meanest guys, and the quiet ones who stayed to themselves. I learned to be ready to fight always.

I started my prison sentence resolved the next time I saw my father, I wouldn’t let up until he was begging for mercy.

Now I’m a free man.

Sort of.

I’m out, and I’m headed back to look him in the eye. He sent me here, and I want to know why.

Staring out across the dark waters, I make a vow. I’m getting back everything I’ve lost. I don’t know how the man who put me here will make it happen, but we’ll sort that out when I get home.

Snatching my navy canvas bag off the ground, I start walking.

* * *
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THIS MUCH IS TRUE
By Tia Louise
© TLM Productions LLC, 2020

J.R.

She exhales a sigh. “Remember when people used to go out to bars and dance?”

My eyes close briefly, and I’m in this space of memory with her. “I haven’t danced in a long time.”

We sway side to side, holding each other.

“You’re still good at it.” Her chin pulls back, and she blinks warm blue eyes up at me.

Our gaze tangles and heats, and she rises on her toes. Her fingers curl in my shirt. “I’d like to kiss you.”

Heat flares in my veins. I’ve wanted to kiss her for two days, but I’ve been fighting it. “Hope…”
Hope Eternal Hill is light and pure, and I can’t be the black storm that smashes all her dreams with my quest for revenge.

“It’s been too long.” She whispers, sliding her nose along my cheek. “For both of us.”

Her fingers trace behind my neck, into my hair, and I push her back against the door. Cupping her cheeks, I cover her full lips with mine and devour them.

She makes a little noise, and I kiss her deeper. Her mouth opens, and I slide my tongue against hers, tasting her sweetness.

She’s syrupy whiskey mixed with a hint of coffee.

Her arms are around my neck, and her soft breasts crush against my chest. Sliding my hands up her torso, I cup them through the fabric, squeezing them and circling my thumbs over the hardened tips. She moans, and my dick is an iron rod in my pants.

“God…” I lift my chin, and her lips move to my throat.

Her tongue slides along my skin, and I’m fighting. I want to fuck her. My whole body craves it, the satisfaction I know is waiting between her thighs. It would be so easy to lift her leg and plunge deep… again and again.

Her hand is on my waist, tugging at my shirt, and I catch it. “Wait.”

Her brows clench as she looks up at me. “What’s wrong?”

Our eyes meet, and I’m hanging on by a thread. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.” She leans up again, putting her hot mouth against my jaw. “I know you didn’t touch me last night when I was naked in your hotel room. I know you ran into danger to protect your brother. I know you’re fighting what’s happening right now…”

“You have no idea.”

Her lips are at my ear. “Haven’t you ever been reckless?”

* * *
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TWIST OF FATE
By Tia Louise
© TLM Productions LLC, 2021

Scout

People used to say I could sweet-talk the devil into going to church.

My mom, who was a librarian and English teacher and one of the smartest people I ever knew, said I was a misunderstood character.

She said people looked at me and saw a handsome young man—her words—with blond hair and blue eyes who slept with a football instead of a pillow and didn’t make very good grades and assumed I traded on that to get ahead.

That’s where they were wrong, she said. Mom said talking to people and listening to what they said made me just as smart as any valedictorian. She said my brother John, who we all call J.R. is more serious because he’s older.

I loved my mom, but I’m not sure she’s right either. I just learned pretty quickly growing up in Fireside, South Carolina, one of the smallest towns this side of Charleston, I’d get a lot further with being nice to people than being shitty.

For example, when I was in fourth grade, Ms. Myrna was going to flunk me because I couldn’t analyze Stargirl to her liking. I just didn’t understand it. The girl was weird, and I get it, Leo was a nerd with no friends, but what was I supposed to be learning from this story?

What was way clearer to me was Ms. Myrna’s husband had thrown out his back working construction at the new development down on the coast, at Oceanside Beach. He was laid up in the bed for weeks, and I could tell by the tightness around my teacher’s eyes, it was wearing on her.

So maybe I couldn’t write an A paper, but I sure could mow her grass and cut that old vine off her back fence and hold the door for her when she carried too many books from the teacher’s closet.
Ultimately, she said if I could at least recite the plot of the story, she’d give me credit for reading the book.

What did that teach me? Getting in there is better than keeping people at arm’s length like my brother. It’s not manipulation. It’s simple facts.

Facts I never shared with my mom.

She was also the kindest person I knew. Laying in that sickbed, she would trace her fingers along my forehead as I knelt at her bedside, and I never wanted her to leave us.

The night she died, the man from church said heaven must’ve needed another angel. He said she was too good for this earth—something even I knew. He said it was fate.

Losing my mom was a truckload of bullshit. I’ve never felt anger so intense, burning so hard in my chest it radiated up the back of my neck. It made me want to break things. It made me almost forget…

My life was like an etch a sketch Fate scooped up and shook hard. I hated that feeling. It sucked. I never wanted to feel it again.

J.R. and I were left with my dad to figure out what the hell to do with ourselves, so we did what we knew—football. Dad threw himself into work, only noticing us when we were in the backyard drilling, and when J.R. and I became superstars.

Then I was cast in a few school plays, and I discovered I could be somebody else. I learned all that anger and pain disappeared on the stage. People liked watching me, and when I made them laugh or gasp or cry, I felt like I’d done something huge.

I’ve only ever told one person that story, a girl in glasses I discovered at a junkyard, and she didn’t misunderstand. She wanted to know more.

* * *
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TWIST OF FATE
By Tia Louise
© TLM Productions LLC, 2021

Scout

“She’s really cute, Scout, but she can’t play with the boys.”

My brother stands beside me on the sidelines with his arms crossed, and we watch as my three-year-old runs around the field, holding up her little hands and trying to catch their easy passes.

“That’s what they told the quarterback princess.”

“Are you talking about that old Helen Hunt movie with the girl who wanted to be a quarterback?”

“Feeling threatened?”

“I’m not saying it because she’s a girl. I’m saying it because she’s three. The ball’s too big for her.”

Bobby tosses an overhand pass, and it bounces off her face, knocking her on her little butt.

“Uh oh.”

She’s immediately surrounded by our team of seven- to ten-year-olds with Jesse right up front helping her stand. J.R. and I jog to where she’s holding her hand over her nose.

My stomach drops. If her nose is bleeding or worse, Daisy’s going to kill me. “Hey, princess, you okay?” I’m on my knees beside the two cousins.

“It hit my nose, Daddy.” She puts an arm around my neck and rests her head on my shoulder.

It only took a day for her to start calling me that, and damn, it twisted me around her little finger even tighter.

“Let’s take a look.” I give her a squeeze and she steps back, holding up her head.

“It’s not bleeding!” Jesse announces to the other boys, and Melody blinks several times, watching him. My nephew turns to her again. “Hey, you didn’t even cry! Noses hurt.”

She smiles blinking even faster, and my heart clenches. I can tell my princess is struggling with all her might not to cry, even more now.

“Noses hurt,” she repeats, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, let’s play over here while the boys do their drills. Okay?” She nods, and I pick her up, carrying her off the field...

* * *
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