Check out an exclusive excerpt from Julianna Keyes’ next contemporary romance My Roommate’s Girl, which is being released June 12!
About ‘My Roommate’s Girl’ by Julianna Keyes:
The day a judge gave me the choice between going to prison or going to college was the day I vowed to stop stealing. Never again would I see something beautiful and beyond my means and take it, just because I wanted it. Just because I could.
When I moved in with Jerry, it was with good intentions. I needed a place to live while I got my degree, and he needed a roommate.
Then I saw Aster.
Blond and beautiful, good, pure, sweet, smart…and Jerry’s girlfriend. She was everything I never thought I could have. Except…maybe I can.
So I put a plan into action. Yeah, I’d probably go to hell, but it would be worth it. I wanted Aster. I wanted her yesterday and tomorrow and every possible way.
But you know what they say.
Be careful what you wish for…because you just might get it.
‘My Roommate’s Girl’ by Julianna Keyes exclusive excerpt:
The team goes for drinks after each game and I normally bail, but tonight Shamus invites Aster and she accepts. “You coming, Aidan?” she asks.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say no, but hearing the invite come from Aster takes away any impulse to reject the offer. Maybe I can consider socializing with my teammates penance for jerking off to the image of my roommate’s girlfriend three times in the four days since I last saw her.
We get dressed and trek across campus to a small Irish pub, Shamus’s favorite. There are ten of us, so we grab a couple of tables and stick them together while Shamus goes to order the first round. He returns with a couple of pitchers and a server follows with a tray of glasses, and in less than a minute we’ve all got a glass of beer and a fake smile as we pretend to listen to Shamus’s toast.
I’m sitting next to Aster, and I don’t hear a word of what Shamus is saying. When everyone echoes the toast I just mumble something, touching my glass to that of the guy next to me, and the girl next to him, then, finally, Aster’s. Our fingers bump and she notices the four letters crudely etched into my knuckles: R-I-D-E.
“Ride?” she reads, automatically reaching for my other hand. I want to pull it back, keep it out of sight and not offend her, but there’s really no way to jerk away without doing exactly that. Instead I let her enfold my rough hand in her smooth one, her fingers curling mine into a fist so she can read the second word. H-A-R-D.
“Ride hard.” She looks at me. “Ride what?”
I try not to stare at her eyes. They’re cornflower blue, a shade I know because they used to grow in this weird little patch in the field behind our home when I was a kid. It’s a color I associate with being young and carefree and happy. A color I haven’t seen since one of the bookies my dad failed to pay burned down our house.
“Ride whatever,” I make myself say, the words scratching my throat. I take a sip of beer like my only problem right now is dehydration.
“Jerry said you don’t have a car.”
That’s true; I’d borrowed one for the hour it had taken me to pack up my stuff from residence and cart it over to the apartment. “There are other things to ride.”
“Motorcycles?”
She’s too close. I can see her freckles, count the tiny strands of hair that cling to her temples, damp with sweat.
I’ve never had a girl this close to me in a bar that wasn’t waiting for me to make a move, or planning her own move. All of my instincts are urging me to put down my glass and take Aster’s hands and put them on my crotch and show her just how hard I like to ride. It might offend her. Or it might turn her on.
Only one way to find out.