Sweet Home by Tillie Cole.
Blurb:
At age twenty, Molly Shakespeare knows a lot.
She knows Descartes and Kant.
She knows academia and Oxford.
She knows that the people who love you leave you.
She knows how to be alone.
But when Molly leaves England's grey skies behind to start a new life at the University of Alabama, she finds that she has a lot to learn—she didn't know a summer could be so hot, she didn't know students could be so intimidating, and she certainly didn't know just how much the folks of Alabama love their football.
When a chance encounter with notorious star quarterback, Romeo Prince, leaves her unable to think of anything but his chocolate-brown eyes, dirty-blond hair and perfect physique, Molly soon realises that her quiet, solitary life is about to dramatically change forever...
She knows Descartes and Kant.
She knows academia and Oxford.
She knows that the people who love you leave you.
She knows how to be alone.
But when Molly leaves England's grey skies behind to start a new life at the University of Alabama, she finds that she has a lot to learn—she didn't know a summer could be so hot, she didn't know students could be so intimidating, and she certainly didn't know just how much the folks of Alabama love their football.
When a chance encounter with notorious star quarterback, Romeo Prince, leaves her unable to think of anything but his chocolate-brown eyes, dirty-blond hair and perfect physique, Molly soon realises that her quiet, solitary life is about to dramatically change forever...
Mature New Adult novel – contains adult content, highly sexual situations and mature topics. Suited for ages 18 and up*
Excerpt:
Sweet Home Teaser Excerpts for the Blog Tour
I grabbed the papers in my arms, shaking my head, and stood, my bloody glasses—in the process—falling clean off my face and clattering to the floor.
I sighed in defeat and decided that I really shouldn’t even have bothered getting out of bed this morning.
A short burst of laughter sounded behind me, making me jump, and a warm hand gripped my upper arm, twirling me around, slipping my glasses back onto my face.
I squinted repeatedly, and when my vision righted, I was met with a broad chest covered by a sleeveless dark-red T-shirt, the white writing reading, “Crimson Tide Football.”
“Can you see now?”
I followed the sound of the deep southern drawl, and before me was a sun-kissed true Bama boy—long, dirty-blond hair to his jaw line, eyes of a deep, dark brown framed by long inky lashes, and he towered over me, maybe six-foot-three to my five-foot-five height.
I couldn’t help but suck in a breath. He was gorgeous. Really bloody gorgeous.
I shook myself from my daze and snatched the papers from his hands, trying to shuffle around him, needing to get away and regain some semblance of composure, or maybe dignity, seeing as though I’d been pretty much stripped of it over the last couple of hours.
Grabbing my wrist as I passed, Mr. Crimson Tide Football asked, “Hey, y’okay?”
I tried to relax and not be rude—he’d helped me after all—but my nerves were shot, the touch of his rough calloused hand on my skin only making things worse.
I decided to chalk this unusual reaction up to dehydration, or an acute case of Toga-phobia. Shoulders slumping, I replied, “I’m fine.” “You sure?”
I blew out a long breath, meeting his lovely chocolate eyes, catching the almost bluey-black flecks surrounding the iris. “You ever have one of those days when everything just turns into an absolute bloody nightmare?” I stressed the last three words slowly.
He expelled a loud huff and pulled an amused expression—his full lips pouting into a crooked smirk and his slightly off-centre nose scrunching with the movement. “Havin’ one myself, actually.”
“Then that makes two of us.” I couldn’t help but crack a reluctant grin in return. Tightening my hold on my stack of papers, I said, “Thank you for stopping to help me. It was very nice of you.”
Bronzed, bulky arms folded over his huge chest, and he was notably tickled at my nervousness. “Nice? Not normally what people say when they’re talkin’ ‘bout me.”
With that, he walked away, leaving me alone in the wide hallway.
I turned to head to class, and the gorgeous guy looked back at me over his shoulder, announcing roughly, “I’m Rome.”
“Molly,” I said quickly.
Rome’s teeth dragged over his bottom lip as he nodded slowly, regarding me from head to toe with an unusually deep intensity. Then without another word, he entered the philosophy classroom.
Excerpt:
Sweet Home Teaser Excerpts for the Blog Tour
I grabbed the papers in my arms, shaking my head, and stood, my bloody glasses—in the process—falling clean off my face and clattering to the floor.
I sighed in defeat and decided that I really shouldn’t even have bothered getting out of bed this morning.
A short burst of laughter sounded behind me, making me jump, and a warm hand gripped my upper arm, twirling me around, slipping my glasses back onto my face.
I squinted repeatedly, and when my vision righted, I was met with a broad chest covered by a sleeveless dark-red T-shirt, the white writing reading, “Crimson Tide Football.”
“Can you see now?”
I followed the sound of the deep southern drawl, and before me was a sun-kissed true Bama boy—long, dirty-blond hair to his jaw line, eyes of a deep, dark brown framed by long inky lashes, and he towered over me, maybe six-foot-three to my five-foot-five height.
I couldn’t help but suck in a breath. He was gorgeous. Really bloody gorgeous.
I shook myself from my daze and snatched the papers from his hands, trying to shuffle around him, needing to get away and regain some semblance of composure, or maybe dignity, seeing as though I’d been pretty much stripped of it over the last couple of hours.
Grabbing my wrist as I passed, Mr. Crimson Tide Football asked, “Hey, y’okay?”
I tried to relax and not be rude—he’d helped me after all—but my nerves were shot, the touch of his rough calloused hand on my skin only making things worse.
I decided to chalk this unusual reaction up to dehydration, or an acute case of Toga-phobia. Shoulders slumping, I replied, “I’m fine.” “You sure?”
I blew out a long breath, meeting his lovely chocolate eyes, catching the almost bluey-black flecks surrounding the iris. “You ever have one of those days when everything just turns into an absolute bloody nightmare?” I stressed the last three words slowly.
He expelled a loud huff and pulled an amused expression—his full lips pouting into a crooked smirk and his slightly off-centre nose scrunching with the movement. “Havin’ one myself, actually.”
“Then that makes two of us.” I couldn’t help but crack a reluctant grin in return. Tightening my hold on my stack of papers, I said, “Thank you for stopping to help me. It was very nice of you.”
Bronzed, bulky arms folded over his huge chest, and he was notably tickled at my nervousness. “Nice? Not normally what people say when they’re talkin’ ‘bout me.”
With that, he walked away, leaving me alone in the wide hallway.
I turned to head to class, and the gorgeous guy looked back at me over his shoulder, announcing roughly, “I’m Rome.”
“Molly,” I said quickly.
Rome’s teeth dragged over his bottom lip as he nodded slowly, regarding me from head to toe with an unusually deep intensity. Then without another word, he entered the philosophy classroom.
Available on:
Amazon, Amazon UK, B&N, iTunes, Kobo, & Smashwords.
It will also be available in paperback.
Add Sweet Home to your Goodreads TBR!
~ Tillie Cole ~
A
Northern girl through and through. She originates from a place called
Teesside on that little but awesomely sunny (okay I exaggerate) Isle
called Great Britain. She was brought up surrounded by her English rose
mother -- a farmer's daughter, her crazy Scottish father, a savagely
sarcastic sister and a multitude of rescue animals and horses.
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Twitter @tillie_cole
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