Just My Type... of book!

Just My Type came out yesterday and one of the things I love most about this book is that it's a friends turned lovers story, one of my favorite themes. It also has the best-friend's-little-sister thing in it, and the woman-as-the-pursuer thing... oh, and a beach and cotton-candy flavored body powder and a small town with some fun characters and return appearances of some favorite characters... all things I love!

Oh, and I happen to have some extra copies SO... I'm giving TWO copies away to random winners chosen from any comments! To get you started... do you have a personal friends turned lovers story? How about a story about a woman as the pursuer? Those are fun! Or: what flavor body powder would you choose--cotton candy, banana split, chocolate, strawberry or cinnamon? Anything gets entered! :) I'll pick a winner and post on Saturday to give people a chance to catch up and so I don't disturb the other bloggers this week-- definitely don't want to get in the way of that Zillionaire Cowboy who'll be stopping by on Thursday! Be sure you include your e-mail in your response so I can get a hold of you!

And here's a little peek at Just My Type:
“I need you to kiss me.”
Several heartbeats passed before he said, “Excuse me?”
“Doug, the guy I was talking to a minute ago, thinks he’s taking me home. I need you to help me convince him I’m involved with someone.”
Mac frowned down at her. “Tell him no.”
“He’s in town until Tuesday and comes back on business all the time. He’ll keep bugging me.”
Mac’s frown turned to a scowl. “Keep telling him no.”
“This is easier,” she insisted, moving closer as Mack leaned back slightly. “If he thinks I’m involved, especially with a big, mean-looking guy like you, he’ll drop it.”
“Mean-looking?”
“When you frown like that.” She moved even closer. “Come on. Just a little favor. One kiss.”
He’d kissed her cheek, her forehead, the top of her head and her hand before. And once on the lips. New Year’s Eve. Two years ago. Which was when the lust had started. She’d never felt like that with even the most passionate kisses from other men and this had been only a New Year’s Eve kiss. It hadn’t been a peck, but neither had it been carnal by any stretch—it had been full, lips slightly open, up against the full length of his body, lingering for a good minute.
All she’d been able to think after was wow and if he ever really turned it on, I’m a goner.
“Tell him you’re with me,” he said with a growl turning back to his chair at the head table. He grabbed her hand just as she thought he was walking away and pulled her along with him. “Stay with me and you won’t have to tell him anything at all.”
Sara let herself enjoy Mac’s hand, big, warm and strong, for a moment before making herself keep up the argument—even though he was right. She wanted that kiss.
“Someone already told him I’m single. He’ll think we’re just friends sitting together. Even if he doesn’t approach me again tonight, he’ll probably call tomorrow.”
Mac settled down into his chair and pushed the chair next to him out for her. “Want me to stay over and answer the phone until Tuesday?”
She swiveled on her chair seat to look at him, gauging the motivation behind the offer. She knew he didn’t mean it like that. He’d slept on her couch before.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“I will,” he told her lifting his glass. “But you have to buy Twinkies.”
Mac’s favorite food. Normally, she would roll her eyes and joke about his propensity for junk food. But she was in a mood tonight. She leaned over and put her hand on his hard, flat stomach.
“How do you keep these so tight with all those Twinkies?” She rubbed her hand back and forth over the warm, white linen of his shirt.
Mac seemed to freeze. And stop breathing. His eyes were locked on hers and she felt a current zing between them. She’d never touched him like that. They’d held hands, even hugged before, and she’d touched his arms, back, shoulder, even face once, but never his chest, or stomach, or lower.
“Sara?” His voice was definitely hoarse.
“Mac.”
“Move your hand.”
She slid it downward and Mac shot back, tipping his chair onto its back legs and throwing him off-balance enough that he stumbled to his feet, knocking the chair over.
“Damn, Sara!” he swore. Straightening to his full height and glaring down at her he demanded, “What the hell was that?”
She blinked at him, trying for innocence. “You said…”
“I didn’t mean that!” he snapped.
“Well, why not? I certainly wouldn’t mind doing it.”
He gaped at her and she almost laughed. She’d never seen Mac flabbergasted like this.
“You wouldn’t mind doing what exactly?”
Maybe he thought—or hoped—she was talking about something else. She had to make this clear.
“Putting my hand on your…”
“Okay,” he interrupted, throwing up his hands. “Enough. You’re obviously drunk.”
Instead of looking up and arguing his statement, Sara’s eyes found the object of conversation almost right in front of her. And it looked interested in what she was proposing.
Mac had an erection. Right there. Front and center. Unmistakable.
“You sure you’re not interested?” She looked directly at the tent in his pants.
He quickly righted the chair, sat and dropped his napkin in his lap. “Knock it off.”
“What? You’re telling me you’ve never thought of it? Ever?”
“Of having your hand down my pants at your brother’s wedding? No, I can honestly say I haven’t.” He wouldn’t look at her.
“So when have you thought about having my hand down your pants?”
He opened his mouth, shut it, shifted in his chair, frowned. “Stop it.”
She scooted her chair closer. “Mac, honestly. Have you ever thought of us together?”
“Sure. We’re together all the time at Sam’s, at the center and the hospital.” He still wasn’t making eye contact.
Sara touched his knee and he nearly jumped out of his chair again. She smiled. She was no dummy. She had a master’s degree in psychology and was a licensed social worker in Nebraska. She studied people. She’d watched the two people she knew best—her sister, Jessica, and her brother, Sam—fall in love with their spouses. She’d seen the effect that intense attraction had on people and how they acted until they admitted the attraction and did something about it.
“I’m talking about naked, you and me.”
“Of course not,” he answered quickly. Too quickly. He was scowling again. “You’re a kid, like a sister to me.”
He was lying. He had to be lying. Before she could think it out any further and potentially chicken out, Sara slid from her chair to Mac’s lap, cupped the back of his head in both hands and kissed him with all she had.

You can buy it here!