The Six Month Lease (Southern Hearts Club #2) by Melanie Munton
ABOUT THE BOOK
Title: The Six Month Lease (Southern Hearts Club, Book 2)
Author: Melanie Munton
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: August 18, 2020
Cover Designer: L.J. Anderson at Mayhem Cover Creations
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.
Never have I ever…moved in with a guy after dating him for only three weeks.
Just kidding. That’s exactly what I did.
And like most of you are probably thinking, it inevitably blew up in my face when we broke up two days after signing our lease.
Now, I’m stuck living with my ex. The same man who turned my life completely upside down in record time.
For. Six. Whole. Months.
It doesn’t matter how many times he flashes those abs at me after a shower, or how close his bedroom is to mine. I will resist him because he’s simply not the right guy for me.
But if I thought he’d done a number on me before, that’s nothing compared to what happens after I finally learn the secret he’s been keeping from me this entire time.
I can’t say no to a Melanie Munton novel, i.e. The Divorce Attorney, Lace & Lies, Scars & Sins, and The Unforgettable Kind. Her romances are funny and super sexy. So, when I saw the opportunity to read about exes sharing an apartment together, let the heat begin!
Harper St. Clair is a beautiful sensual woman who is kind and generous to a fault. She has a tendency of having her evil mother and bitchy best friend Shea walk all over her to the detriment of her happiness and when she finally calls their bluff, it is a sight to see. But when it comes to West, he has her back. His actions speak volumes and boy, are they worth reading about.
Helicopter pilot, West Devereaux is yummy hotness with an extreme possessive streak for his ex, Harper. His deliciously dirty mouth and wicked ways make him one of my favorite Munton boys. It’s obvious he has it bad for Harper from the first moment they meet and his determination to get her back after their first real fight is absolutely delectable to watch. He’s definitely a keeper!
The chemistry between Harper and West is explosive. Being stuck in a rental for 6 months with someone you just broke up is difficult. But their hilarious pranks, i.e. toothpaste in Oreos, vinegar in wine, etc., and flirty and sexy encounters that break Harper’s rules of the house are oh, so hot. My favorite fabulously smutty scene is in the garden at Sloane and Carter’s party. Whew! Hold on to your panties. As for Harper’s friends Sloane (who we got to know intimately in The Divorce Attorney), Quinn, and Gretchen, they are her real family with their support and hilarious antics. I can’t wait to read Gretchen’s story.
Overall, one of my favorite authors does it again by giving the reader a hilarious and sensual romantic comedy with a HEA. Pick it up. You’ll love it!
Thank you once again, to Melanie for giving me the opportunity to read this book with no expectation of a positive review.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Melanie grew up in a small town in rural Missouri. After marrying her husband, she decided she wanted to try coastal life because why not? A few months later, they moved to North Carolina where she discovered her passion for writing, and they never looked back. They are now enjoying life with their beautiful daughter in Savannah, GA and loving every minute with their little Georgia peach.
Melanie’s other passion is traveling and seeing the world. With anthropology degrees under their belts, she and her husband have made it their goal in life to see as many archaeological sites around the world as possible.
She has a horrible food addiction to pasta and candy (not together…ew). And she gets sad when her wine rack is empty.
At the end of the day, she is a true romantic at heart. She loves writing the cheesy and corny of romantic comedies, and the sassy and sexy of suspense. She aims to make her readers swoon, laugh out loud, maybe sweat a little, and above all, fall in love.
“I’d so love to continue this battle of wits, but some of us have things to do today that require a shower first.”
His eyes lower to my cleavage, mouth parting. I steadfastly refuse to allow that action to affect me in any way. Then he brashly lets his gaze travel over the rest of me like we’re still dating and he has the right to do such a thing.
I hate how many tingles I still get when he does that.
For God’s sake, have some self-respect.
“Need any help with that?” he rasps, his eyes locked on the swell of my breasts.
Images of our naked bodies crushed together in the shower assault me. Him kneeling before me. My head bobbing between his legs. Water sluicing over his ripped abdominals. His roars of pleasure echoing off the tiled walls as he comes. Unfortunately, those images aren’t fantasies. They’re memories. Which are so much harder to dismiss.
Maddeningly, my mouth goes dry, but I still manage to push words out. “I think the days of you helping me with anything in the shower are ancient history.”
His eyes shoot up to mine. “Careful, princess. You just broke your own rule.”
My pulse spikes.
We have another heady standoff where the residual lust that still simmers between us but is never addressed crackles in the air like fire embers. I know I need to say something—anything—to get him out of my room before we foolishly reacquaint our tangled bodies with a bed, but I’m coming up with a big, fat zero.
This, right here, is why I’m being so damn strict about the rules.
Because I honestly don’t think I’m strong enough to resist the temptation that is West.
Despite how we broke up—how furious he made me when we fought that night, when he said things that still linger at the forefront of my memory—I still want this man. Like, bad want him. Which has nothing to do with feelings or emotions. It’s all due to our forced proximity and the flames of our former physical connection that have yet to be completely doused.
After all, it’s not like his looks have changed in the three weeks since we broke up, as much as I prayed for a miracle that they would. I can’t make my body flip a switch and not find him objectively attractive just like that. The arousal that attraction inflicts is a pain in the ass, but it’s manageable as long as I don’t dwell on it.
Or stare at him too long.
And maybe I have a bit of a devious streak in me because I’ve kind of been shoving my body in his face at every opportunity. Not that I should give a crap what he thinks about my appearance since we’re no longer together, but there’s still my pride to consider. Which is what I was protecting when I quickly checked myself over in the full-length mirror just before he marched down the hallway and blew into my room.
It was pride that had me checking that my hair was still falling in its neat waves, that my makeup hadn’t faded, and that my boobs were supported nicely in my sports bra and peeking out the top of my workout tank. I may have also glanced back over my shoulder to see how my ass looked in these spandex pants. But again, that was pride.
It had nothing to do with reminding him of what he’s missing out on.
Okay, maybe a teensy bit.
“You going to camp out in here all day?” I ask, hands on my hips. “If so, you could have at least brought marshmallows with you.”
Tension broken, he snorts in laughter and walks backwards through the open doorway. “Holler if you need help with any of those hard to reach places.”
Then he’s gone.
And I’m left reeling.
You stupid, stupid fool! You know rule number six is the most important one of all.
Rule number six: there will absolutely, unequivocally be no mention of our past relationship.
I made that one easy to remember.
Six is one letter away from sex.
Which is the one thing I will definitely not be getting any of for the next five and a half months.
At least, not with West Devereaux.