Saturday, August 11, 2018

Excerpt: Untouchable by Talia Hibbert + Giveaway!

You should know by now that I am a HUGE fan of Talia Hibbert (hell, most of us here on the blog are!).

Well, Talia's newest book is out, Untouchable, and to celebrate I've got a little excerpt to share.

Oh, and did I mention Talia's got a great giveaway, too? Details at the end!

Untouchable by Talia Hibbert
Publisher: Nixon House (August 11, 2018)
Series: Ravenswood, 2
Genre: Contemporary Romance (Queer -- Queer MC)

What happens when a bad boy becomes a man?

Nate Davis didn't plan on returning to his hateful hometown. But then, he didn't plan on being widowed in his twenties, or on his mother getting sick, either. Turns out, life doesn't give a f$*k about plans.

Hannah Kabbah thought her career in childcare was over. After all, no-one wants a woman with a criminal damage conviction watching their kids. But when her high school crush returns to Ravenswood with two kids in tow, she gets the second chance she never dreamed of.

She also gets to know Nate - the real Nate. The one whose stony exterior hides aching vulnerability. Who makes her smile when she wants to fall apart. Who is way, way more than the bad boy persona he earned so long ago, and way too noble to ever sleep with the nanny.

So it's a good thing she's completely over that teenage crush, right?

Untouchable is a steamy, small town interracial romance. Warning: this book is 80,000 words of intense romance with a happy ending. There are NO cliffhangers and NO cheating. Enjoy responsibly!

Please note: this book contains discussion and depiction of depression and anxiety that may trigger certain audiences.

Where to Buy*:
Kindle -- KU Title
More Info:

Untouchable by Talia Hibbert

Dreaming, for Hannah, was a little bit like being drunk. In both states, she felt removed from herself—but not in a negative way, not like disassociating. It was lighter, a giddy, reckless experience that usually felt delicious. The cautious voices that typically tied her up in knots disappeared, sucked away like cobwebs with a vacuum cleaner. Hannah’s experience of drunkenness and dreaming were enough to convince her that she didn’t have a single self. Maybe no-one did. Certain basics of identity might remain the same, but people could change significantly depending on their circumstances. 
For example, Sober Hannah would rather die than let some random girl give her head in a club bathroom, because 1. germs and 2. germs and 3. dignity and 4. germs. But Drunk Hannah had happily let precisely that scenario come to pass on a hazy summer night in 2009, and had been rewarded for it with a rare orgasm. She hadn’t thought about the prevalence of the herpes virus or the amount of faecal matter in the average toilet cubicle, not even once. And she’d been rewarded with the best sex of her life, while her sober encounters tended to result in awkward disappointment and general disillusionment, no matter what she did. 
Drunk Hannah, clearly, was not Sober Hannah. That was okay.  
And Dream Hannah was not Awake Hannah, either. That was okay too. 
This was what Hannah told herself as Nate Davis sank his teeth into her shoulder.  
She gasped, stretching out on the enormous bed they shared, arching back against his erection. He was perfectly sized—big enough to make her sigh, not big enough to require gallons of lube—because she had made it so. That was the beauty of dreams, you see. He spread her arse slightly with one hand, until his rigid cock nestled between her cheeks—which would be scandalous enough to send Awake Hannah into fits, but only managed to drag a purr of satisfaction from Dream Hannah. She rocked against that thick shaft as Nate ran his tongue over the tingling bite marks on her shoulder. 
He stroked her hip, trailing silken whispers of arousal over her skin, and Hannah realised that they were completely naked. Maybe they hadn’t been a second ago, but they were now. Also, their enormous bed appeared to be floating in a tropical ocean. Weird, but she’d go with it.  
“Stop thinking,” he whispered in her ear. “Look at me.” 
“No, thank you.” 
She felt him smile. His lips were pressed against her throat, soft and warm. Then he reached between her thighs with one steady, tattooed hand and touched her. Actually, touched might be too feeble a word: he ran the blunt tip of his middle finger over her folds, teasing her slick, swollen flesh. When he nudged her clit, Hannah moaned.  
His finger circled her stiffening bud, the touch too much and too little, delicate and delicious. His mouth, hot and wet and wanting, sucked at a spot just beneath her ear. She melted against him like warm chocolate and he rocked his hard dick against her arse in a rhythm that echoed her pounding heart. “Look at me,” he said again. 
“You’re very demanding,” she managed to gasp, “for a figment of my imagination.” 
“That’s not what I am,” he murmured. Before she could beg for more of the dizzying sensations he produced between her thighs, Nate’s teasing touch became a firm, fast rhythm. He flattened his fingers and massaged her clit, distributing that perfect pressure, heating her blood into molten lust. 
Hannah moaned, then rocked her hips back and spread her legs wider. “You’re not demanding?” 
“I’m not a figment of your imagination.” He pushed her onto her stomach, then dragged her hips up into the air and spread her thighs. 
“You are,” she insisted. “If you were real, I wouldn’t feel like this.” 
“Like what?” 
“Good. I wouldn’t feel good.” 
“I’m real, Hannah.” He parted her folds, the fat head of his cock sliding over her slick entrance. “You know me.” 
“I don’t know you. I haven’t seen you in years.” 
“You remember me.” 
“I never knew you. No-one knew you.” 
He leaned over her, his chest covering her back, his body caging hers as his length nudged at her opening. She felt his breath against her ear as he whispered, “You knew me. Of course you knew me. That’s why you wanted me so bad.” 
“Nate…” She closed her eyes, shuddered at the promise of satisfaction, at the kiss of his hard dick spreading her wider and threatening to fill her up. Fuck, that rough push and slick glide would be so good if he would just— 
“Look at me,” he said again. 
He sighed, pulling back. Away from her. What the fuck? This was her dream, for Christ’s sake! 
“Come back here,” she snapped. 
“You know what I want.” 
“What is this, a subconscious revolt?” she demanded. What the hell was going on? She had no idea—and she couldn’t ask her mother to interpret this particular dream, since it involved fucking a local hot dad on a floating bed. What was she supposed to do, Google it? 
“You know me, Hannah. You know me because we’re the same. Admit it.” 
“Oh, piss off. Jesus. I can’t even get a decent shag inside my own fucking head. Why haven’t I replaced the batteries in my vibrator yet?” 
“Because you don’t masturbate. You just have dreams like this and wake up wondering what happened. But you don’t remember, because you sleep too deeply.” 
“Great,” she said dryly. And then, a second later: “Wait, so I won’t remember this? That is pretty great.” 
“You want to forget me?” Nate asked, sounding a little offended. 
“Of course I do. This is atrocious. I don’t know what my subconscious was playing at, bringing you here. Frankly, I only allowed it because I like your tattoos.” 
“But you don’t like me.” 
“Not like that. I’m not fifteen anymore.” 
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice unnervingly dark. 
“That I’m not fifteen?” 
“Hannah,” he growled. 
Oh, fine. She knew what he meant. “Yes! Okay? Yes, I’m sure. I’m very sure.” While sitting on a dreamy floating bed, butt-naked, with her own arousal sliding down her thighs and a desperate need for Nate’s phantom dick, she said firmly: “Nathaniel Davis, I am not into you.” 
“In that case,” he said, “you’d better wake up.”

Talia Hibbert is a writer and educator from the U.K., by way of both the West Indies and West Africa. She wrote her first romance aged 12, and was promptly scolded by a teacher because her story of love in the jungle wasn't 'proper'.

Since then, Talia's stories have improved in quality and hugely increased in heat. She now writes steamy, diverse, contemporary romance set in the U.K. Her work still isn’t proper, but it is a lot of fun.

Her interests include beauty, junk food, and devouring all forms of media. She lives in a small English town that doesn’t even get Deliveroo, and kisses her high school sweetheart every day. Y’know; for luck. 

And, as Talia would say... that's all, folks. Love and biscuits!

Where to Find Talia:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads

Competition time! In honour of the Untouchable Blog Tour, Talia is offering one lucky winner the chance to receive e-copies of the Ravenswood books, PLUS a $25 Amazon gift card. Comment below (and include your social media handle) for the chance to win. 

(Full terms and conditions can be found on Talia’s website.)

I just finished Hannah and Nate's book and all I can say is: you want this book in your life. You want ALL of Talia's books in your life. Right now!

So if you want to read the rest of this teaser scene, one-click Untouchable now!

Oh! And if you need a bit more convincing, you can always check out the many, many quotes I shared while reading this book.

Don't forget to leave a comment (with your social media handle) to enter Talia's giveaway!


Until Next Time,

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