Saturday, 26 March 2016

NEW RELEASE PROMO POST WITH EXCERPT!!! Wicked Good BY Jennifer Crowfoot...

Guys this is a MUST read!!!! 
This Aussie rocker brilliance was written by my super amazingly talented mother-in-law Jennifer Crowfoot. She has the perfect knack for writing perfect Australian romance novels. I promise you will not be disappointed.

(made by yours truly) :)

Popular aussie pub band, Wicked Intent, never dreamed that the night they met Lou Hellman in a Sydney nightclub after a gig, would be the night their fortunes would change and their stars would rise so high, they'd need oxygen masks to breathe.
Little did they know that what he offered was not all it seemed.
Behind his stunning movie-star looks lies a soul so black, so wicked, the Angels weep. 

Holy fuck, if I thought she was beautiful seated, she’s perfect now that I get a good look at what she’s been hiding. Tall and slim, she’s shaped like an hourglass, with curves to fucking drool over.
Placing the cigarette in the hand holding her drink, she extends the other to Danny and then Rhys, who’s managed to shift his arse over to us, his eyes never leaving her face.
Her lips tip up in a secret smile.
Well fuck me, she didn’t stand to shake my fucking hand. Come to think on it, she didn’t shake my hand.
My generous ego deflates a tad at the realisation that I’m not quite the sex god I’d imagined.
She licks her pillowy lips and they both squirm on the spot. “Hello gentlemen. I’m Lila and I’m your new Media Liaison.”
Their eyes bulge, and I can almost see the mice running frantically as the wheels in their heads spin to help them absorb this news.
Mr Dickhead and Mr Deadshit.
Rhys’s eyes drop and he licks his lips. Raising his arm, he rubs at the back of his neck, bicep bulging like he’s got a pumpkin inserted beneath his inked skin. “Ah, okay,” he mumbles to her tits. “Cool. Didn’t know we needed one.”
She leans into them, her long plait swinging forward, the delicious colour shining like a polished ruby in the light. Rhys groans and rubs at his neck harder, while Danny and I drool as her blouse gapes.
Holy fuck we’re pigs.
“Apparently your new boss thinks that you do,” she counters, her voice dropping to a husky purr as if she’s divulging a state secret.
I shut my gaping mouth and scowl as I watch their jaws drop at the boner-inducing honey-tone of her voice.
Yeah, we’re totally fucked.

 Married with four children, and eleven grandchildren, Jennifer lives with her husband and bad-tempered Maltese terrier Beau, an assortment of chooks, canaries and pigeons, in the beautiful Hunter Valley in rural N.S.W, Australia.
Before devoting herself to full-time writing, Jennifer worked in a variety of jobs over the years, from making burgers in a café, to working behind the counter in a small general store, to cleaning in a boutique B&B.

But she counts her greatest accomplishment as raising her children and watching them grow into responsible adults with children of their own.

When not writing, Jennifer can be found with her nose buried in a book.

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