Ilsa Madden-Mills does it again. FAKE FIANCEE was such an awesome book, and I can't wait for everyone to read it. Check out my review!
Fake Fiancee, by Ilsa Madden-Mills
Publish Date: February 6, 2017
Publisher: self-published
Format: e-ARC, provided by TRSOR Promotions
Genre: new adult contemporary romance
To Buy: Amazon
Rating: 5 STARS
(Synopsis) They say nothing compares to your first kiss. But our first kiss was orchestrated for an audience.
Our second kiss…that one was REAL.
He cradled my face like he was terrified he’d f*ck it up.
He stared into my eyes until the air buzzed.
Soft and slow, full of sighs and little laughs,
He inhaled me like I was the finest Belgian chocolate,
And he'd never get another piece.
A nip of his teeth, his hand at my waist...
And I was lost.
I forgot he was paying me to be his fake fiancée.
I forgot we weren’t REAL.
Our kiss was pure magic, and before you laugh and say those kinds of kisses don’t exist…
Then you’ve never touched lips with Max Kent, the hottest quarterback in college history.
There was a time when all I read were books in the new adult genre. I love the college setting and the angst and discovery of the kind of love that lasts forever. I don't read as much of it as I used to, but every time I read one of Ilsa Madden-Mills' books, those old feelings come back.
Fake Fiancee grabbed me from the very first page. Sunny endures a frightening situation and is saved by a beautiful stranger that she gets to share only a few moments with before they're separated. Years later, Sunny is living across the street from a house full of football players from the private college in town. She's trying to keep her scholarship, her job, her car and her apartment, which can be challenging when the football skanks trash her stuff, she is trying to avoid her cheating ex, and on top of it all, someone starts stalking her.
Enter Max Kent, her hero once before and now again. He's there to tutor her, give her a ride to school, and ber a buffer between her and her ex. In exchange, she pretends to be his girlfriend to keep his own ex, as well as the rest of the football bunnies, away. It's the perfect arrangement - until Max changes the game halfway through without telling Sunny first.
There's a lot of elements to this book that we've seen before - the rich jock who gets around sees something special in the studious girl who isn't like all the rest of them. But, there's just something about the way Ilsa Madden-Mills writes and weaves her stories that make them seem like the first time I've heard them.
The chemistry between Max and Sunny leaped off the page every time they were together. Maybe it was because of the way they first met. Or maybe it was because of the way Sunny didn't take any of his crap and fall at his feet just because he's the star of the team. She was the only girl who was real with him, and you could just tell how much that meant to Max, even as he kept proclaiming that football was the most important thing in his life.
Fake Fiancee is told in dual POV, which I loved. If you like lots of steamy goodness, rest assured - it's here. LOTS of chemistry topped off by lots of hot action makes Krista a very happy girl.
I hope we get more stories from Ilsa Madden-Mills set in this world. There's a whole host of other characters I want to know more about. And any chance I have to catch up with Max and Sunny will only be icing on the cake.
Max stalked over to the barrier that divided the stands from the football field and jumped it. The fans went nuts as he brushed past them, some not even realizing it until he was down the aisle. The Jumbotron followed him.
“Good Lordy, what’s he doing?” Mimi asked, clutching at her chest.
“I don’t know,” I said rather weakly, taking the chance to study him the closer he came. He was beautiful, his shoulders impossibly broad. To add to the distraction, his helmet was in his hand and all that dark brown hair was flowing around his chiseled features as if he had a fan in his face. My Viking.
“He’s coming over here,” Mimi commented.
He was. But why?
I stopped breathing . . .right when he came to a halt in front of me and knelt down on one knee.
Eyes the color of a wild ocean gazed at me.
He took my left hand in his right one.
“Max,” I breathed, my heart fluttering.
He gazed up at me. “Sunny Blaine, will you marry me?”
The stadium went wild. In a daze, I looked up at the Jumbotron and felt like I was watching this happen to someone else. Camera phones flashed all around us.
My first clear thought was I’ll kill him.
Aloud, nothing came out but a faint wheeze. Clearly someone had stuffed a giant wad of cotton in my mouth. Clearly I needed something a lot stiffer to drink than this Diet Coke. Clearly my fake boyfriend was a freaking raving lunatic.
He sat his helmet on the ground next to my feet, reached inside it and pulled out a small black box.
No, no, no!
The box opened, and my stomach churned at the sight of the large round solitaire diamond ring that was nestled on the black silk. I blinked repeatedly to clear my vision.
With deft fingers, Max eased it out of the lining and slipped it on my left hand.
I stared down at it. Then back at him.
I was going to murder the hottest quarterback in the country.
Kiss her, Kiss her, the crowd chanted.
We were the focal point of the entire world.
Max stood and tugged me up with him until we were standing. He slid his hand around my neck and pulled his face to mine. The sky was blotted out as he kissed me.
But I hadn’t said yes!
I wouldn’t say yes.
Not to a fake engagement.
The applause of the stadium was deafening. And his kiss—it was deadly. Despite my rage, my body craved him. His lips were hot, so hot, and my tongue met his with a vengeance. We kissed hard, and I nipped at him, my teeth scraping across his lips. But the only one who’d end up bleeding in this scenario was me.
He eased back to take me in, and with a final look at my face he gave a thumbs-up sign to the entire stadium. They went nuts, chanting his name.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear, letting his hand trail down my arm as he stepped back from me. He walked away backward, eyes on me the entire time. The announcers for the game told everyone who might have missed it that Max Kent had just asked his girlfriend to marry him, and she’d said yes. More cheers came as they replayed him on his knee in front of me with a giant YES written across the top.
I plopped back down in my seat. Frozen.
“. . . did you see her face? Shocked . . .”
“. . . most romantic thing in football . . .”
“. . . luckiest girl in the world . . .”
My face went hot. Even my ears burned. I wanted to crawl under a seat.
God.
What a lie.
The half ended and our offense came out to the field, snapped the ball, and Max threw it straight to Tate who ran it in for another touchdown. My chest constricted and anger churned in my gut.
I didn’t care who won.
I hated football right now. Most of all, I hated Max Kent, and I was going to make him pay.
Wall Street Journal best selling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.
She's addicted to all things fantasy, including unicorns and sword-wielding females. Other fascinations include frothy coffee beverages, dark chocolate, Ian Somerhalder, astronomy (she's a Gemini), and tattoos. She has a degree in English and a Master's in Education. When she's not pecking away on her computer, she shops for cool magnets and fuzzy pajamas.
She loves to hear from readers and fellow authors. Email her at ilsamaddenmills@gmail.com.
Website |
Facebook |
Twitter |
Pinterest |
Goodreads |
Instagram
