Title: What If It's Love?
Author: Alix Nichols
Publication Date: June 2014
Genres: Contemporary Romance, New Adult
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<SYNOPSIS>
Can a Paris bistro heal a
broken heart?
Charm, wit and poignancy abound
in this gripping contemporary romance.
Introverted heiress Lena moves
to Paris to nurse old wounds reopened by her neglectful boyfriend. Enter Rob, a
charismatic and handsome Frenchman who waits tables at La Bohème -- a café on
Lena’s street -- and has big dreams.
He makes her laugh and forget
her insecurities. She stirs something infinitely tender in his soul. Before
they know it, they’ve fallen for each other, even though both had good reasons
to fight the budding love.
But their passionate romance is
cut short when she discovers his dirty secret...
<PURCHASE LINKS>
<EXCERPT>
"Can we be friends again?' he asked.
"So you think we were friends?'
He nodded.
She arched her brows. "And you think you can be friends with me and aAmanda and the same time?"
"Why not?"
Can be a health hazard, what with all the sparks that fly."
He grinned. "Never mind Amanda's taunts. She's like that with everyone."
"Nefarious?"
"Spiky. But she is a sweetheart, once you've grown on her."
"I wonder hoe I could ever accomplish that." Lena smiled, a speck of sadness still lingering in her eyes.
He started, mesmerized. He could never get enough of that smile.
A cloud hiding the moon must have shifted, because suddenly solve light lured over the terrace turning it into an enchanted place.
Lena gasped. "What happened to your hand?"
He followed her gaze and saw that the knuckles of his right hand were smeared with blood. Shit. He could bet there'd been none after he punched the wall.
He covered the abrasions with his other hand. "It's nothing."
She grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand closer to her face. "Have you disinfected them?"
Rob didn't register her question. He looked at her delicate fingers holding up his hand. Then at her face. She was squinting at his hand, trying to assess the seriousness of his cuts. Her gesture was devoid of any erotic subtext. And yet the contract of her skin scorched him, just like when he held her hand at L'Espace. It stirred an impulse inside him that was both feverishly raw and infinitely gentle. It made his heart bump against his ribcage as if demanding to get out.
HE gazed at her hands holding his. The urge to run his fingertips over her skin, from her nails down to her wrist and inside her plan was too overwhelming to resist...
"So have you"" she asked.
Rob blinked and looked up. "Have I what?"
"Disinfected."
"It's just a graze."
"I have a disinfectant in my suitcase," she said. "I can fetch it--"
And release my hand? "Stay," he blurted out, Shit. "I mean, I also brought some, so you don't need to bother. I'll disinfect as soon as I get back to my room. I promise."
"OK," she said softly and let go of him.
Alix Nichols is an avid reader of chick lit, romance and fantasy, caffeine addict and a badge wearing Mr. Darcy/Colin Firth fan.
She lives and works in Paris, France. When not writing, she read romance (what else?) and spends time with her family.
"So you think we were friends?'
He nodded.
She arched her brows. "And you think you can be friends with me and aAmanda and the same time?"
"Why not?"
Can be a health hazard, what with all the sparks that fly."
He grinned. "Never mind Amanda's taunts. She's like that with everyone."
"Nefarious?"
"Spiky. But she is a sweetheart, once you've grown on her."
"I wonder hoe I could ever accomplish that." Lena smiled, a speck of sadness still lingering in her eyes.
He started, mesmerized. He could never get enough of that smile.
A cloud hiding the moon must have shifted, because suddenly solve light lured over the terrace turning it into an enchanted place.
Lena gasped. "What happened to your hand?"
He followed her gaze and saw that the knuckles of his right hand were smeared with blood. Shit. He could bet there'd been none after he punched the wall.
He covered the abrasions with his other hand. "It's nothing."
She grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand closer to her face. "Have you disinfected them?"
Rob didn't register her question. He looked at her delicate fingers holding up his hand. Then at her face. She was squinting at his hand, trying to assess the seriousness of his cuts. Her gesture was devoid of any erotic subtext. And yet the contract of her skin scorched him, just like when he held her hand at L'Espace. It stirred an impulse inside him that was both feverishly raw and infinitely gentle. It made his heart bump against his ribcage as if demanding to get out.
HE gazed at her hands holding his. The urge to run his fingertips over her skin, from her nails down to her wrist and inside her plan was too overwhelming to resist...
"So have you"" she asked.
Rob blinked and looked up. "Have I what?"
"Disinfected."
"It's just a graze."
"I have a disinfectant in my suitcase," she said. "I can fetch it--"
And release my hand? "Stay," he blurted out, Shit. "I mean, I also brought some, so you don't need to bother. I'll disinfect as soon as I get back to my room. I promise."
"OK," she said softly and let go of him.
<ABOUT THE AUTHOR>
Alix Nichols is an avid reader of chick lit, romance and fantasy, caffeine addict and a badge wearing Mr. Darcy/Colin Firth fan.
She lives and works in Paris, France. When not writing, she read romance (what else?) and spends time with her family.
<AUTHOR LINKS>
<GIVEAWAYS>
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