Monday, June 19, 2017

Blog Tour and Giveaway for Backseat With the Billionaire by Lilah May


Backseat with the Billionaire
by Lilah May
Genre: Adult Billionaire Romance

She just wants to use him for revenge. 


Him. 
A billionaire MMA fighter whose cocky smile and washboard abs make wet panties drop left and right. 
She thinks she wants him for one amazing night out and end it. 
Boy, did she think wrong. 

He's about to teach her how much more she really wants. 

LISA 
Finding out your husband's cheating is hard. 
Finding out it’s with a college girl is even harder. 
The easy part? Retribution: beating him blue with a baseball bat and kicking him to the curb. 
But it's still not enough. 

So when Bobby Carter, fresh out of college, blows back into town with all the intensity of a hurricane, I decide I’m not done. 
Bobby’s everything my ex-husband is not. Sexy, aggressive, and intense. 
Like melt me into a puddle intense. 

Who cares if I used to babysit him? 
He’s a grown man, now. And I mean, FULLY grown. 

All I wanted was a night out with him, but one taste and I’m addicted. 

BOBBY 
When Lisa Howard finally gets rid of her cheating husband, I want to take her right then and there. 
I got rid of that abusive bastard and built a billion dollar empire all for her. 
Nothing could satisfy my ravenous hunger but taking a bite of that sweet little thing. 

So when she offers herself up to me for one night, I'm not about to refuse. 
She's nothing like the sorority bimbos at Northfield U. 
She is a real woman. 
Sexy, mature, and an ass so fine I would give up my billions just for a taste. 

But I know a taste won’t be enough and one night too short for all the dirty things I want to do to her and that deliciously curvy body. 

She’ll be mine, but not just for tonight. Forever. 

This is a full-length, standalone, steamy 18+ romance. No cheating or cliffhangers, and definitely a wonderful Happily Ever After guaranteed.


Backseat With the Billionaire Excerpts


PROLOGUE
BOBBY
They say obsession isn’t love, that
obsessions are just crazy.
But everything about love is obsessive.
Love is that one person out of 7 billion
people, that one person you’d rather die than
live without, that one person whose pain,
whose happiness you feel just as strong.
Sounds crazy to me. It’s crazy to want the
hurt and heartache. It’s crazy to want
someone constantly on your mind every
second of every day.
Everything about love is crazy, but we
still want it. We still need it. We still obsess
over it.
Love is just an evanescent summer ’s day,
seemingly forever but ruined in an instant by
a passing storm. Love is just a butterfly
fluttering, floating above a field of flowers,
seemingly perfect but all of it gone with the
seasons.
Obsession is the strength to take that
butterfly, that flower and press it into a book
so its beauty stays forever.
Obsession keeps love alive, no matter
how much suffering, no matter how much
time. Obsession never fades.
Love fades, obsession keeps.


LISA
I had no clue what I’d do.
It’s the kind of situation you never plan
for, never expect to have to plan for. And
even if you try, even if you think you know
what you’ll do or how you’ll act, you find
out that the truth is:
You really don’t know yourself at all.
I wait, sitting in that old ratty armchair of
his. The orange one that was now stained
brown. The one he refused to throw out no
matter how much it reeked of alcohol and
cigarettes.
The pictures are still on the coffee table. I
looked them over carefully, in some twisted
morbid curiosity. The girl couldn’t be a day
over 18 and she seemed to be enjoying
herself, but in some fake, exaggerated way
like she was in a porn video or she learned
how to act when getting fucked from a porn
video. And of course, it was missionary, the
boring bastard.
I’m not thinking about anything, not
planning, not scheming. I’m not even angry.
For the first time in a long while, my head is
completely clear. Like some weird
meditation, all I do is sit and wait.
He strolls through the front door,
whistling a tune. The balls on him. Relaxed
and casual, as if he didn’t just come back
from fucking his teenage whore.
He looks at me once but doesn’t look
twice. Even though, across my lap is a silver
aluminum baseball bat. The same bat that
we’ve kept by the front door for our
protection, for just in case.
Just in case of a robbery. Just in case of a
home invasion. Just in case my scumbag
husband decides to cheat on me.
All those years, it sat unused. Until today.
I don’t know what was the last straw. The
whistling, the nonchalant way he ignored me
or maybe it was that shit-eating grin he had
plastered on his smug face.
But one second I’m sitting in the living
room and the next, I’m tackling him like a
football linebacker. Head down, shoulders
square, straight into his unsuspecting back.
He pitches forward, quite comically,
crashing to the ground in a heap. All
accompanied by a satisfactory crunch.
And as I stood over him, something dark
and violent emerged, something that wasn’t
so clean and pure. Something that I kept
buried and hidden for years as the perfect
housewife, the perfect stay at home mom.
The funny thing is, he didn’t think I
would do it. The whole time, the asshole
looked up at me and just laughed, smirking
in my face. That is, until the first swing of the
bat came down on him.
And goddamn, if it didn’t feel amazing.
For me. Not for him.
I can still picture that deliciously
depraved moment when that cheesy smile of
his gave way to a look of pain and confusion.
Ohhh, god! This was it! That utterly
satisfying feeling.
Like the good fuck he was never able to
give me.
As I kept raining down blow after blow,
his disbelief quickly turned into one of
horror, crying for me to stop. But I didn’t. It
only added to my wonderful, cathartic
experience. And I savored every single
wince, every little whimper, feeding off his
pain.
Finally, he could feel what I felt. All the
abuse, all the suffocating agony from living
under his oppressive rule. Finally, I could
give it all back to him.
Let me give you a piece of advice: it’s
unhealthy to repress that much shit. So don’t.
Unless one day, you might end up beating
your douchebag husband half to death.
After a good solid minute of getting his
ass beat, he finally snatches an opportunity to
escape. As I take a breather, he scrambles
towards the front door, running out onto the
lawn.
But he doesn’t get far.
He’s not getting away. Not today.
Cause right now, there’s a fucking animal
inside me.
I chase him down and knocking him to
the grass, continuing my assault with the bat.
I can’t seem to stop myself. Not that I want to.
One part of me is filled with wrathful
vengeance and the other looks on a spectator,
as if I’m watching a horror movie.
I really like horror movies.
Suddenly, big fat hairy arms wrap around
my waist, pulling me away from Donald.
Donald my husband: The liar. The
cheater. The piece of shit.
God, I fucking hate him.
Wrapped up in those thick arms, I
struggle helplessly, flailing like a bug on it’s
back. The man who’s gathered me up in a
massive bearhug is Robert Carter, our nextdoor
neighbor, with his wife Patty kneeling
next to the crying Donald.
Crying. Literally. Big crocodile tears.
What a disgusting faker, trying to squeeze
sympathy out of our neighbors.

I didn’t hit him all that hard. I think.




Hi everyone! I'm Lilah May (well, you already know that).

I write steamy romance that will touch your heart (and your body<3 all="" in="" right="" span="" the="" ways.="">
Ok, maybe it sounds a little corny but it's true!
I make sure my books are full of hot and dirty scenes but still has that oh so important warm sentimental love.

Anywho, I'm just a girl with too many dirty thoughts going through her head and I thought I'd share them with all of you!

Though I have to warn you: be prepared!
These stunning alpha male heroes I write about are straight out of my fantasies: impossibly sexy, crazy dominant, and 110% guaranteed to make your knees weak.
So you better sit down, grab a towel and leave all your inhibitions at the door (along with your panties) because my books will make you melt and squirm with HEA love!

Side note: I like my cookies chewy and I've learned way too late in my life that I can microwave them for ten seconds to make them chewy again. I don't hate on crunchy, though. Cookies are cookies lol.


Oh, and also I'm a nurse so when I get my hands on a real good book, things can get incredibly dangerous! (That's a joke for all you stuffy wet blankets. I would never risk my patients. I love them!)


Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!




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