Friday, April 11, 2014

Release Event: Lost in Me (Here and Now #1) by Lexi Ryan




Lost In Me is the first book in the Here and Now series, a spin-off of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Hope series. This sexy amnesia love triangle is intended for mature readers.



The last thing I remember is having drinks at Brady’s and trying to avoid eye-contact with my life-long crush—the gorgeous, unattainable Maximilian Hallowell. They tell me that was a year ago, but I have no memories of anything since then. What I do have is this ring on my finger that Max says he gave me, and this much-thinner body I’ve dreamed of most of my life. Aside from a case of retrograde amnesia, everything seems almost…perfect.

But the deeper I immerse myself into this new world of mine—planning a wedding to a man I don’t remember dating, attempting to run a business I don’t remember starting—the clearer it becomes that nothing is as it seems. Do I have the life I’ve always wanted or is it a facade propped up by secrets I don’t even know I have?

I need answers before I marry Max, and the only person who seems to have them is the angry, tatted, sexy-as-sin rocker Nate Crane. And Nate wants me for himself.

Lost In Me is not a standalone novel, as the story continues in Here and Now book two, Fall To You, releasing in June.








He’s going to expect me to have sex. I mean, of course—that only makes sense. Engaged couples have sex. I’m nervous. No, I’m terrified. No matter how many times I had sex in the last months, I don’t remember it, so I might as well still be the virgin I was at the time of my last memory.

After talking to Nate tonight, I’m not worried he’ll be bothering me or running to Max. I should be happy. My secret is safe, and I can focus on my upcoming marriage.

So why does the idea of having sex with my fiancé feel like cheating?

Pushing aside the thought, I go back to the lockers to strip out of my clothes. A towel secured under my arms, I return to the steam room and step in this time.

Sinking into a chair, I lean back and close my eyes as the heat relaxes my muscles and quiets my mind.

I drift off to sleep, and just as my dreams tug me under, my mind skates along the edge of a memory—Max and me in the gym before we started dating. I asked him to be my trainer. It’s there, a memory as clear as the ones I never lost, and I wrap myself in the comfort of it. Me. Max. No affairs. No angry rockers with broken hearts.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” someone whispers in my ear.

My muscles are so relaxed, I don’t want to move. I stretch my arms and legs, and my towel falls to my waist as I open my eyes.

“Oh, damn, Hanna.” Max stands before me, his chest bare, a towel tied around his hips. I can’t quite make out his face in the steam, but I don’t need to see his expression to know he wants me. Desire radiates off every water molecule in the room—a breath held and waiting for release.

I extend my stretch, arching my back in a move that thrusts my breasts toward him.

“Sorry it took me longer than I expected.” His voice sounds strained as he offers his hand. “I had a new client come in just as I was trying to lock up.”

I take his hand and stand, but when I reach to grab my fallen towel, he holds me fast.

“Please don’t,” he says.

Maybe I’d be self-conscious in another setting, but here in the steam, I turn sexy and wanton under his gaze. I feel nothing but determination under the weight of the unwanted ache in my heart while talking to Nate. Determination to prove to myself that this is the man I love—no one else.

With that first recovered memory in my grasp, I’m hopeful for the first time in days. I drop my gaze to his towel and arch a brow. “I sense a double standard.”

He groans and drops his mouth to mine. His kiss is long and slow and thorough. He tastes like cinnamon gum and strokes his tongue against mine as he cups my breast in his hand.

“I believe it’s my turn to touch you,” he whispers against my lips. His thumb rolls over my nipple in the slow, sensuous motion of a man who plans to take his time. “And touching you in here ranks high on my list of fantasies.”

I curl my nails into his back and nip at his bottom lip. Because I don’t want him to take his time. I want him to touch me and kiss me until I’ve forgotten the sound of Nate’s voice, until I’m so sure of our love and our future that my anxiety fades.

With his free hand, Max cups my other breast and treats it to the same slow torture.

“Max,” I whimper, arching toward him, wanting more.

“How was the party?”

“What?”

His lips curl into a smile. “God, I love that I can make you lose your mind like that.”

I slide my hands into his hair. “You can. You do.”

Trailing kisses down my neck and over my collarbone, he makes his way to my breast and opens his mouth over my nipple. Slow, steady, achingly meticulous, he circles it with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth. My breasts grow heavier with every stroke of his tongue, the ache between my thighs more insistent. The steam has set my senses on fire, and the brush of his knuckles down my side is as thrilling as the first time a boy went up my shirt.

Just when I think I’m going to have to beg for more, he takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks—long and hard. My knees go weak and he has to hold me tight as I slip in his arms.

“Come over here,” he murmurs. He leads me to the tiered benches and takes a seat on the bottom row. His erection is thick and tall under the towel, but when I reach to uncover it, he stops my hand. “Leave it. You tempt me too much.”

“But I like touching you,” I object.

“You like making me lose my mind.”

A giggle slips from my lips. “It’s a nice feeling.”

“Come here.” He tugs me forward until I’m straddling him, the hard length of his cock needy and glorious between my legs. As he returns his mouth to my breasts, sucking and licking in turn, I rock against him. My thighs squeeze him as the sensation of his mouth on my breasts mixes with the pressure of his erection through the towel.

His hands slide around me and over my ass, kneading the flesh of my cheeks as his mouth works at my breasts.

Whimpering, I arch my back and shift my hips just so, and suddenly pleasure snaps through me like a whip. My hips want to rock, to circle, to grind against his length, but I force them to still.

“Move against me,” he commands. “I want to feel you move.”

The friction of the towel against my swollen clit is almost too much, almost uncomfortable, but it’s a good kind of discomfort, and his cock swells bigger and more insistent between my thighs. I don’t know if I could stop if I wanted to. Unless it was for something different. Something more. How easy would it be for him to move this towel and slide into me right now? My fear is gone, replaced by red-hot aching need.







Anna Nalick—Breathe (2am)
Barenaked Ladies—Odds Are
Dave Matthews Band—The Space Between
Matchbox Twenty—If You’re Gone
Shakira, Rihanna—Can’t Remember to Forget You
Sarah Bareilles—I Choose You
Jason Mraz—I Won’t Give Up
Nine Inch Nails—Something I Can Never Have
A Great Big World—Say Something
P.M. Dawn—I’d Die Without You
Jason Walker—Down
Macy Gray—I Try

James Blunt—You’re Beautiful 



Once a college English professor, I now write full time. I live in rural Indiana, where, when I’m not writing, I get to hang out with my husband and two kids–a six-year-old boy and a two-year-old hellion, er, girl. Not surprisingly, reading and writing remain my favorite activities, though both come in bits and pieces these days, not the big hunks of time I enjoyed before I had children. When I’m feeling virtuous, I like to go running (I use that word liberally. I’m really, really slow) or do yoga. Don’t worry, I’m always careful to balance out such activities with a hearty serving of ice cream or a chocolate martini.



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