A Cruel Kind Of Beautiful by Michelle Hazen

We are thrilled to be celebrating the release of Michelle Hazen’s Rockstar Romance, A CRUEL KIND OF BEAUTIFUL! This is the first installment in her Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll series. Follow the tour for reviews, excerpts, guest posts, plus enter to win a $50 Amazon gift card!

Title: A Cruel Kind of Beautiful

Author: Michelle Hazen

Release Date: December 4, 2017

Publisher: Self-published

Series: Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Page Count: 344

If you can’t get to the Big O, can you get to the happily ever after?

Jera McKnight loves music, swoons for hot guys, but sucks at sex. Jacob Tate is her perfect storm: a pun-loving nude model with a heart as big as his record collection.

When a newspaper-delivery accident lands him in her living room, he’s almost tempting enough to make her forget she’s never been able to please a man—in bed or out of it. Sure, he laughs at her obscure jokes, and he’ll even accept a PG-rating if it means he gets time with her, but he’s also hiding something. And it has everything to do with the off-limits room in his apartment.

Jera pours all her confusion and longing into her drum kit, which pays off when her band lands the record deal of their dreams. Except just like Jacob, it might be too good to come without a catch.

She doesn’t know if her music is good enough to attract a better contract, or if she’s enough to tempt a man like Jacob to give up his secrets, even if they could fix her problems between the sheets. But if this rocker girl is too afraid to bet on herself, she might just end up playing to an empty house.

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A CRUEL KIND OF BEAUTIFUL Excerpt

“If this is about sex, here’s the thing: I like sex. Every kind of sex. And I can make it unbelievably good for you.” He says it without a hint of a blush, and no trace of arrogance. The temperature of my skin rockets up.

I swallow to combat my suddenly dry mouth. I really, really want to roll him on top of me and forget that no matter how hot he makes me, I’ll be left panting and straining and unfulfilled at the end.

I want to pretend I don’t know better.

“This isn’t a romance novel,” I tell Jacob. “It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just put on some Barry Manilow and call it making love, and be so gentle with me that my head explodes into a rain of fireworks. I tried all that, and it sucked.”

I push up to sitting, my eyes darting away from him as I rub one hand down my opposite arm. I hate how ugly it makes me feel to talk about this stuff.

“No matter how excited I get, I can’t finish. My ex tried to help me get over it, and it only made the whole thing worse for both of us.”

“Look, I get that. I listened to that shitty voicemail he left you. But it doesn’t have to go that way, Jera. Did you know that seventy-five percent of women have trouble experiencing orgasm through vaginal sex? Only fifteen percent of women have the same trouble once additional stimulation is provided.” He sits up too. “Have you tried toys? Even just a little booster like a vibrating cock ring? What about fetishes?”

I blink, at a loss.

“Fetishes can be really unique, and they are often biologically based,” he explains. “Not linked to trauma or anything weird. They’re incredibly powerful. You could have an insane gummy bear fetish or something and just have no idea that’s what you need to get excited. Have you read much erotica?”

My cheeks burn and if my mouth isn’t hanging open, it’s only because I’m too shocked to move.

“I might have done some research,” he admits.

“Oh really? I thought I accidentally hit play on my Sexual Dysfunction for Dummies audiobook. How are you not blushing right now?”

“I like talking about sex.” He shrugs. “And it’s important to you. Of course I want to know as much as I can. Besides, I’m an engineering major. Taking things apart and figuring out how they work is kind of what we do.”

That pulls a reluctant smile from me, because that is insanely nerdy but also sweet, and more than a little embarrassing. I don’t even want to see all the ways I’ve besmirched his browser history.

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About Michelle Hazen

Michelle Hazen is a nomad with a writing problem. Years ago, she and her husband ducked out of the 9 to 5 world and moved into their truck. As a result, she wrote most of her books with solar power in odd places, including a bus in Thailand, a golf cart in a sandstorm, and a beach in Honduras. Currently, she’s addicted to The Walking Dead, hiking, and Tillamook cheese.

Get Your First Look at A Cruel Kind of Beautiful by Michelle Hazen

“Sweet and sexy, with a storyline that sucks you in deep, A CRUEL KIND OF BEAUTIFUL is everything I adore in a romance.” —Heather Van Fleet, author of the Reckless Hearts series

“Smart and fun, with a rocking voice, A CRUEL KIND OF BEAUTIFUL will keep your heart racing until the end.” —Katie Golding, author of Order Up

Here’s your FIRST LOOK at Michelle Hazen’s Rockstar Romance, A CRUEL KIND OF BEAUTIFUL! Join us as we get our first peek at this first installment in the Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll series. Check out the excerpt and enter to win a $50 Amazon gift card!

Title: A Cruel Kind of Beautiful

Author: Michelle Hazen

Release Date: December 4, 2017

Publisher: Self-published/Pronoun

Series: Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Page Count: 344

If you can’t get to the Big O, can you get to the happily ever after?

Jera McKnight loves music, swoons for hot guys, but sucks at sex. Jacob Tate is her perfect storm: a pun-loving nude model with a heart as big as his record collection.

Jera pours all her confusion and longing into her drum kit, which pays off when her band lands the record deal of their dreams. Except just like Jacob, it might be too good to come without a catch.

Add to your Goodreads shelf now!

Pre-order Now on Amazon → http://amzn.to/2zthRss

A CRUEL KIND OF BEAUTIFUL Excerpt

When the newspaper broke my window at four in the morning, I didn’t stop to think about the fact that I was wearing sweats. Not thin, make-your-butt-look-cute yoga pants but old school sweats: cuffs cinched tight around my wrists and ankles like rib-knit shackles, plus deflated airbags of material sagging at my crotch and knees.

This is definitely something I would have considered if I’d known I was going to open the door to biceps like his.

Turns out my renegade paperboy isn’t a boy at all; more like six feet two inches of pure man-candy. With his fist raised to knock, all his muscles stand out in exquisitely stark lines, and I’m definitely not staring. Or maybe I am, because he takes a step back and drops his hand, brow furrowing.

“Shit,” he says. “Shit.”

I quirk a brow. I’m five foot flat on a good posture day, so it must be the atrociousness of my sweats that’s putting the fear into him.

“Don’t tell me this was a revenge window-breaking and you got the wrong house.” I nod toward my neighbor’s place. “Did Mr. Schmelzly steal your girl or something?”

His eyes dip below my collarbone for a second, but I’m not exactly worried about my lack of a bra. This sweatshirt is so baggy I could be packing the curves of Santa Claus or Kim Kardashian under here and he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

“I wish I could claim it was revenge. More like a total failure of motor skills.” He grimaces. “I’m so sorry about your window. They give us a half day of training, which felt like four hours more than anybody should need, but right now, it’s looking like I could have used five.” His shoulders hunch as he gives me a sheepish look.

My annoyance melts, and I offer, “In your defense, it was the Thrifty Tuesdays paper. Tuesday has some serious heft in tampon coupons.”

“Plus the supplemental entertainment section.” His face relaxes into a smile. “If it’d been a Wednesday, you might have been safe. Here, can I at least help you clean up the glass?” He steps forward.

“Uh…” I hesitate, surprised that he’s offering to do housework. Not to mention he probably has another twenty miles to pedal to finish his route, because who the hell gets newspapers delivered these days?

“I’m sorry, you probably don’t want a strange guy in your house who just broke your window. Trust me, I’m not a serial killer or anything. If I were going to kidnap you, I’d like to think I’d be a lot smoother about the whole thing.”

“Good to know. There’s nothing I hate more than an inept kidnapper.”

His eyes lighten at my response. “That doesn’t seem fair. Shouldn’t you hate successful kidnappers more? There’s the ride in the trunk and the whole ransom debate…it’s probably a real pain.”

“Nah, people love successful kidnappers. Because Stockholm Syndrome.” A smirk tugs at the edge of my mouth. “Shouldn’t you be convincing me to trust you, not defending kidnapping fails?”

“Right. I’m batting a thousand this morning, aren’t I? Sorry again.” He blushes, actually blushes.

He’s like a walking sex dream with close-shaved hair and a cologne-commercial jawline, and I have no idea how a guy can be this hot without a trace of cocky to go along with it.

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About Michelle Hazen: