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Not My Romeo - Ilsa Madden

Updated: Aug 22




๐™„๐™จ ๐™…๐™–๐™˜๐™  ๐™ข๐™ฎ ๐™ง๐™š๐™–๐™ก ๐™๐™ค๐™ข๐™š๐™คโ€ฆ๐™ค๐™ง ๐™ฌ๐™ž๐™ก๐™ก ๐™ฉ๐™๐™ž๐™จ ๐™œ๐™ค๐™ง๐™œ๐™š๐™ค๐™ช๐™จ ๐™›๐™ค๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™—๐™–๐™ก๐™ก ๐™ฅ๐™ก๐™–๐™ฎ๐™š๐™ง ๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™ก๐™ฎ ๐™—๐™ง๐™š๐™–๐™  ๐™ข๐™ฎ ๐™๐™š๐™–๐™ง๐™ฉ?


๐—ก๐—ผ๐˜ ๐— ๐˜† ๐—ฅ๐—ผ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—ผ, ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ฎ๐—น๐—น-๐—ป๐—ฒ๐˜„ ๐˜€๐˜„๐—ผ๐—ผ๐—ป-๐˜„๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐˜๐—ต๐˜† ๐—ฐ๐—ผ๐—ป๐˜๐—ฒ๐—บ๐—ฝ๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐˜† ๐˜€๐—ฝ๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐˜๐˜€ ๐—ฟ๐—ผ๐—บ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฐ๐—ฒ ๐˜„๐—ถ๐˜๐—ต ๐—ต๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐˜ ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฑ ๐—ต๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐˜ ๐—ณ๐—ฟ๐—ผ๐—บ ๐—ช๐—ฎ๐—น๐—น ๐—ฆ๐˜๐—ฟ๐—ฒ๐—ฒ๐˜ ๐—๐—ผ๐˜‚๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฎ๐—น ๐—ฏ๐—ฒ๐˜€๐˜๐˜€๐—ฒ๐—น๐—น๐—ถ๐—ป๐—ด ๐—ฎ๐˜‚๐˜๐—ต๐—ผ๐—ฟ ๐—œ๐—น๐˜€๐—ฎ ๐— ๐—ฎ๐—ฑ๐—ฑ๐—ฒ๐—ป-๐— ๐—ถ๐—น๐—น๐˜€ ๐—ถ๐˜€ ๐—ฎ๐˜ƒ๐—ฎ๐—ถ๐—น๐—ฎ๐—ฏ๐—น๐—ฒ ๐—ป๐—ผ๐˜„!


We start off with a lie on Valentineโ€™s Day.


My blind date isnโ€™t the studious guy I expected: heโ€™s a drop-dead gorgeous player with

sinful amber eyes. Somehow we end up at his penthouse. I blame the gin and tonic.

The next day I learn heโ€™s Jack Hawkeโ€”bad-boy professional quarterback with a murky

past. The NDA he has me sign should be a warning that he isnโ€™t a regular person.

Please. I sign it Juliet Capulet, so goodbye, famous football player with abs of steel, and good luck tracking down this small-town librarian.


But Jack keeps showing up in places I least expect him. Just when Iโ€™m sure heโ€™s gone,

he waltzes into my community theater and wins the part of Romeo to my Juliet. Howโ€™s a

plain, mostly innocent girl like me supposed to resist a man like him?

Is Jack my real Romeoโ€ฆor will this gorgeous football player only break my heart?


๐——๐—ผ๐˜„๐—ป๐—น๐—ผ๐—ฎ๐—ฑ ๐˜†๐—ผ๐˜‚๐—ฟ ๐—ฐ๐—ผ๐—ฝ๐˜† ๐˜๐—ผ๐—ฑ๐—ฎ๐˜† ๐—ผ๐—ฟ ๐—ฟ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐—ฑ ๐—ณ๐—ผ๐—ฟ ๐—™๐—ฅ๐—˜๐—˜ ๐—ถ๐—ป ๐—ž๐—ถ๐—ป๐—ฑ๐—น๐—ฒ ๐—จ๐—ป๐—น๐—ถ๐—บ๐—ถ๐˜๐—ฒ๐—ฑ!


Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/notmyromeo


Add NOT MY ROMEO to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2zmDX1O


๐„๐ฑ๐œ๐ž๐ซ๐ฉ๐ญ:


I pull my white cat-eye glasses out of my purse and slide them on for a better

look. My heart flip-flops as butterflies take flight in my stomach. Oh heck no. That canโ€™t

be him. Heโ€™s . . . heโ€™s . . . freaking gorgeous, and I donโ€™t mean regular handsome but

like a movie star: dark hair swept off his face, the strands wavy and unruly with copper

highlights, soft and silky brushing against his cheeks, and too long for a newscaster, in

my opinionโ€”but what do I know? I donโ€™t own a television.


He lifts his arm to shove his hair back, and my eyes pop at the tightly roped

muscles of his forearm and biceps straining through the fabric, the impossibly broad

shoulders.


Well, would you look at that.


And this has to be him, right?


Iโ€™m in the right restaurant. Heโ€™s alone. Heโ€™s wearing a blue shirt. He has dark

hair. Odds point to yes. Usually the most simple explanation is exactly what it appears.

Therefore, he must be my date.


The man in question turns to look out the window, tapping his fingers on the table

impatiently, and I take in his profile. Long straight nose, full dark arching eyebrows, and

a sharp, bladed jawline. Sensuous lips, the lower one decadently full. Almost wicked.


Heโ€™s the kind of hot that draws your eyes over and over just to make sure itโ€™s not a

mirage. I knew guys like him at NYUโ€”sexy, athletic gym types who played a sport. And

those types never gave me a second look. Iโ€™d watch them work out while I fumbled my

way around one of those god-awful butterfly machines, while beautiful, tall, svelte girls

who werenโ€™t sweating fawned over them, bringing them towels, water bottles, and sexy

promises.


He takes a sip of an amber liquid, long tanned fingers grasping the fragile

container as his eyes rove across the room. They prowl around the restaurant, as if heโ€™s

assessing every person in sight, and I feel the sizzle of him even from twenty feet away.

Prickles of awareness skate down my spine. Iโ€™m the alpha, his body language yells.

Come and challenge me.


His gaze drifts right over me without stopping.


Not surprised.


I duck back into the shadows.


Dang it. My hands clench. I wanted nice and nerdy, not this . . . sexy beast!


And judging by the scowl on his face, heโ€™s grumpy. Lifeโ€™s too short to be dour,

Mister. And what is he annoyed about? I am here!


And he did see a picture of me. Topher said so.


Yeah, maybe he doesnโ€™t really want to meet you.


Maybe heโ€™s hoping you wonโ€™t show up.


I tap my foot. I should leave. Really.


The smells of Milanoโ€™s waft around me, spicy and tantalizing, and my stomach

lets out an angry howl. I move from one foot to the next. Every place to eat between

here and Daisy is going to be packed. I could always hit a drive-through on the way

back homeโ€”but how pathetic is a Big Mac and fries on Valentineโ€™s Day? Plus, Iโ€™ll have

my entire nosy family to answer to tomorrow. Theyโ€™ve built up this blind date so much:

Oooooh, Elena has a date with a weatherman. Ask him if thatโ€™s a barometer in his

pocket or if heโ€™s just glad to see you.


I give myself a mental pep talk.


Grow some balls, Elena.


Sometimes you have to go out and take what you want.


So what if heโ€™s hot enough to suck the dew off a rose.


You are hungry. Do it for the pasta.


He is your date. Go get โ€™em, girl.


I gather my resolve, point my little black pumps in his direction, and start

marching.

โญ๏ธโญ๏ธโญ๏ธโญ๏ธโญ๏ธ REVIEW

I canโ€™t believe this has been my first book by Ilsa and will not be my last! I enjoyed this so much!


Jack is the superstar quarterback for his team in Tennessee and Elena is the librarian in a small town near Nashville.

They meet by chance and the introduction is too funny to be true.


Jack has finally met someone who seems to be original, sincere, and possibly trustworthy but jack has so many trust issues that he may ruin what he has with Elena.


Elena has fallen head over heels for Jack, not her typical go-to guy but none the less she goes for it. Deep down itโ€™s all too good to be true and she knows Jack will eventually break her heart but maybe just this one time she gets to keep the guy.


Jack is so swooning, broken with extreme commitment issues and have a good reason why. You just want to reach into the book and give him some love.


The chemistry between these two is sizzling ๐Ÿ”ฅ. A very enjoyable read!


About Ilsa Madden-Mills


Wall Street Journal, New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Ilsa Madden-

Mills is best known for her angsty new adult romances and romantic comedies.


Eight of her eleven novels have placed in the Amazon Top 10 Best-seller List: Dirty

English #1; Fake Fiancรฉe and I Dare You #2; I Bet You, Filthy English, and Very Bad

Things #6; Boyfriend Bargain #8; The Last Guy, her collaboration with Tia Louise, #4.

A former high school English teacher, she adores all things Pride and Prejudice, and of

course, Mr. Darcy is her ultimate hero.


She's addicted to frothy coffee beverages, cheesy magnets, and any book featuring

unicorns and sword-wielding females. Feel free to stalk her online.


Connect with Ilsa

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2nY2pxT

Instagram: http://bit.ly/35xfNfo


Stay up to day with Ilsa by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2ZWaTYh


Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2EESfM9

Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2GaR6cn

Book+Main: http://bit.ly/2s4j9ci

Website: https://www.ilsamaddenmills.com


๐—๐—ผ๐—ถ๐—ป ๐—ต๐—ฒ๐—ฟ ๐—จ๐—ป๐—ถ๐—ฐ๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป ๐—š๐—ถ๐—ฟ๐—น๐˜€ ๐—š๐—ฟ๐—ผ๐˜‚๐—ฝ ๐—ผ๐—ป ๐—™๐—•, the best way to keep up: http://bit.ly/37B6Nay

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๐—›๐—ข๐—ฆ๐—ง๐—˜๐—— ๐—•๐—ฌ: Social Butterfly PR


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