Spotlight & Giveaway: The Billionaire In Her Bed by Regina Kyle

Posted September 12th, 2017 by in Blog, Spotlight / 25 comments

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome romance author Regina Kyle to HJ!
Spotlight&Giveaway

Hi Regina and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, The Billionaire In Her Bed!

 
Hi, awesome HJ readers! Thanks so much for having me here.
 

Tell us about the book with this fun little challenge using the title of the book:

The billionaire of said title is super hot real estate mogul Eli Ward. He finds himself in Brooke Worthington’s bed – okay, more like the futon in the back room of the bar where she works part-time – after a particularly bad day at the office. Imagine his surprise when he finds out she’s leading the charge against his new development.

 

What’s your favorite line(s) from the book?:

Some of my favorite parts of this book involve not only the interactions between Eli and Brooke, but with them and the tenants of Candy Court, the converted factory where Brooke lives. Like this exchange at a tenants’ meeting where Eli – who Brooke has no clue is the greedy billionaire trying to convert her building into high-priced, luxury condos – shows up and announces he’s moving in:

Brooke cleared her throat for attention. “Okay, people.
As exciting as our new addition is, we’re still in the middle
of a meeting here.”
“We can deal with the garden later. I want to hear more
about Eli.” An older woman eyed him appraisingly from the
sofa. The gray-haired man next to her blew a loud raspberry,
but she continued, undeterred. “I don’t see a ring on your
finger. Tell me, young man, do you have a girlfriend?”
“Or a boyfriend?” asked David, the arm around Chris
tightening.
“I’m straight,” Eli assured him, then directed his gaze at
Brooke. “And single.”
She ignored him and started in on the bean dip.
“Oh, what a pity.” The older woman tsked her
disapproval. “A handsome young man like you should have
someone to come home to.”
“Get a dog,” the man next to her suggested. “Less
expensive than a woman, and they never talk back.”
“Or cook dinner,” said the woman next to him, who Eli
had figured out must be his wife. “Or do your laundry. Or…”
“See what I mean about talking back?” Her husband
pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Dog’s definitely the way to go.”
“About the garden…” Brooke tried again.
“Is it true, what Chris said?” Charise piped up. “Do you
and Eli really know each other?”
“Were you two an item?” David asked, jumping on the
way-too-personal bandwagon.
“Despite what you all seem to think, this is not Melrose
Place.” Brooke adopted a Wonder Woman power pose,
hands balled into fists on her hips and feet planted firmly
apart. “And I am not sharing the details of my private life at
a tenants’ meeting.”
“How about you, Eli?” Chris needled. “Care to enlighten
us?”
Not in a trillion years. A gentleman didn’t kiss and tell.
Or fuck and tell, as the case may be. He looked to Brooke,
his eyes pleading for assistance.
With an exasperated sigh, she took a piece of paper
from the drafting table, crumpled it up and tossed it over
her shoulder. “Since no one seems interested in discussing
anything on the agenda, I declare this meeting adjourned.”

 

Please tell us a little about the characters in your book. What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?

What Eli likes most about Brooke is the simple fact that she’s clearly attracted to him for no other reason than – him. She doesn’t know he’s member of the Fortune 500 or that he lives in a Manhattan penthouse. She just wants him, and that’s refreshing to a guy who’s never sure whether women are after him or his money.

Brooke’s in a different boat. She’s not looking for a relationship, especially not with a guy like Eli, who when they first meet reminds her of the entitled kids she grew up with. For her, their one-night stand is nothing more than the intersection of a way-too-long sexual drought with explosive chemistry. But he wears her down with his charm and persistence, and before long she finds herself spending her days – and nights – with him.

 

When you sat down to start this book, what was the biggest challenge you faced? What were you most excited about?

I think my biggest challenge and the thing I was most excited about were one in the same: working with a whole new production team. This is my first book with Entangled, and there’s always a getting-to-know-you period whenyou’re working with new people. But I couldn’t have asked for a better group than Liz Pelletier, Candace Havens, Heidi Shoham, Christine Chuun, Riki Cleveland, Holly Bryant-Simpson, and the rest of the crew at Entangled.

 

What, in your mind, makes this book stand out?

As my plotting partners will tell you, I have a lot of insecurities about my writing, as I think most authors do. But the one thing I’ve always thought I do well is dialogue. Snappy banter, witty repartee – that’s the stuff I love to write and what – I think – I’m best at. Snippets like the one above between the Candy Court residents are what made BIHB so much fun to write – and, I hope, to read.

 

The First Kiss…

Since this book features a one-night stand trope, these two get into it pretty fast. This scene is from the first chapter:

He snagged her hand, pulling her down onto
the futon. She landed half in his lap and half on the seat
beside him. The half in his lap pressed against his crotch,
making his disobedient dick twitch again. He polished off
his drink faster than good scotch deserved, ditched his glass,
and ran a hand up the smooth, pale skin of her leg, stopping
just under the hem of her skirt. “Tell me you want this as
much as I do.”
“I want this as much as you do,” she echoed in a breathy
whisper.
His fingers toyed with the lacy edge of her panties. “Last
chance to change your mind.”
She sucked in a breath. “Thanks, but no thanks. Carry
on.”
He lowered his face to hers and spoke next to her ear,
ruffling the tendrils of hair at the base of her neck. “Good
answer.”
He kissed the side of her neck where it met her shoulder,
sucking her silky-soft skin into his mouth. She tasted of
vanilla and honey, like a rich, exotic confection from some
upscale bakery. The sweetness lingered on his tongue and
made him hungry for more.
Her head fell back, lifting her beautiful breasts, bringing
them that much closer to his greedy mouth.
“Really good,” she moaned, echoing his sentiment.
His lips found hers in a kiss that was equal parts
desperation and desire. He wanted to devour her right there
on the narrow futon in her cramped office.

 

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would you use for the audition of the main characters and why?

I think it would have to be the first scene of the book, where Eli and Brooke meet at the bar where she works, Flotsam and Jetsam. There’s so much sexual tension right off the bat between these two. Anyone casting the film would know right away if they had the right actors. Here’s a taste:

“Do you have a phone I could use?” He shoved his
hands in the pockets of his cashmere coat, which he wore
over a crisp, white button-down shirt that looked right at
home with his pleated charcoal dress pants. “I left mine back
at the office.”
“Uh, sure.” Phone. Shit. She’d forgotten Wayne’s Uber.
She threw the towel in the sink, squirted some hand sanitizer
onto her palms, and reached for her cell on the shelf behind
the bar. “Just let me take care of something first.”
“No problem.” Tall, dark, and scruffy sat his oh-so-fine
butt onto the stool a few feet down from the one Wayne
had vacated. Sexy and smart. Another plus in Mr. Almost
Perfect’s column. Almost because in Brooke’s world, no one
was the total package. Everyone had warts. Some more than
others.
“Can I get you a drink while you wait?” She tapped
the Uber app on her phone and entered the required
information. Type of vehicle, pickup location, destination—
which she unfortunately knew all too well, having requested
rides for Wayne more times than she could count. “On the
house.”
“Are you sure this place can afford to give booze away?”
His eyes darted around the virtually empty bar. “Your boss
might not approve.”
She lifted a shoulder. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt
him.”
“Then I’ll take a Macallan. Neat.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She closed the app and slid her
cell across the bar to him. “I’ve got Dewar’s and Johnnie
Walker Black.”
“Make it a Johnnie Walker.” He ran a hand through
his thick, disheveled locks, pushing them off his face for a
nanosecond before they flopped back over his forehead. “Is
it always this dead in here?”
“On Tuesdays in January, yeah.” She snagged a fresh
towel, sprayed some disinfectant on it, and gave the bar top
another wipe down. “Hopefully business will pick up once
the new Fairway opens down the street.”
“New Fairway?” He picked up her phone and started to
dial. “I didn’t know they were setting up shop here.”
“They’re breaking ground in the spring.” She stowed the
disinfectant under the bar and wiped her hands on the towel
before chucking it into the sink with the first one. “What are
you, some sort of supermarket groupie?”
“Not exactly.” He frowned at the phone.
“No answer?”
“Straight to voicemail.” He slid it back to her. “Better
than the alternative, I suppose.”
“What’s the alternative?” She stuck her phone in her
bra.
He grimaced. “You don’t want to know.”
“I can call you a cab. Or get you an Uber.” Like Wayne.
Where was he, anyway? His car should be pulling up any
minute.
“How about that drink first?” He smiled, showing two
rows of blindingly white, perfectly straight teeth that had
no doubt made some orthodontist a fortune, and a set of
dimples guaranteed to drive women crazy.
“Coming right up.” She plunked a rocks glass down on
the bar in front of him and took the bottle of Johnnie Walker
from the shelf behind her. “You’re not from around here, are
you?”
The expensive haircut. The crisply pressed pants. The
whole Macallan thing. It all reeked of the island. This guy
was a Manhattanite through and through. Besides, if he
were from the neighborhood, she’d know. One advantage of
tending bar—pretty much everyone over the legal drinking
age stopped in at some point or another.
“You could say that.” Mr. Manhattan propped his elbows
on the bar and leaned in so she could smell his cologne,
orange and cedar, with a hint of patchouli.
No doubt. A city boy. Probably worked on Wall Street
or at some Park Avenue law firm. Normally, she avoided his
type like the Ebola virus. Rich and entitled, like her father.
Like every one of the boys in her snobby, suburban high
school. That’s why she’d escaped to the cultural melting pot
that was Sunset Park.
So why did this guy press all her sexual hot buttons? Was
she that desperate to end her cold streak? Heck, even her
baby sister was breaking out of her safety zone and dating
one of the doctors at the clinic where she volunteered.
Mommy and Daddy approved, of course. But at least she
was getting some action. That was a hell of a lot more than
Brooke could say.
She measured two fingers of scotch into his glass. “So,
what brings you to Brooklyn?”
“Work.” He didn’t elaborate, just sipped his scotch.
Even that was a turn-on, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed
in the smooth, strong column of his throat. “What about
you? What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
She bent over and rested her forearms on the bar,
bringing her face inches from his. Her pathetic attempt at
flirting—not exactly her strong suit—for once seemed to
be paying off. Heat crackled between them, and she fought
the urge to see if his jaw felt as deliciously rough under her
fingertips as she imagined. “Who said I was nice?”

 

If your hero had a sexy-times play list, what song(s) would have to be on it?

  • Earned It, by The Weeknd
  • Ed Sheeran’s Shape of You
  • Justin Timberlake’s Futuresex/Lovesound (the whole dang album is sexy)
  • maybe some old Maroon 5, like the Songs About Jane album (true confession: I write to this A LOT).

 

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

When readers get to the end of BHIB, I hope they smiled a lot, laughed even more, experienced a whole lot of feels, and came away satisfied – and anxious for Brooke’s sister Mallory’s story, up next.

 

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned for 2017?

Like I said, Brooke’s sister Mallory’s story is my next book, also for Entangled (no title yet). I’m currently in the last stages of drafting it. (Really, dear editor, I swear!) Mallory is a childhood cancer survivor who breaks out on her own for the first time in her life to work as a nanny/cook for reclusive tech billionaire Rhys Dalton, a widower with a young son and heart full of hurt. No firm release date yet, but it should be out in early 2018.
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

 

Giveaway: Winner’s choice of e-book from the Art of Seduction series: Triple Threat, Triple Time, Triple Dare or Triple Score.

 

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: Eli and Brooke have a whole host of secrets between them. Have you ever kept a secret from your significant other? Did it come back to haunt you?

 
a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Excerpt from The Billionaire In Her Bed:

Brooke threw herself prostrate onto the couch, tossing
the phone to the floor and burying her face in the pillow.
First the sink. Now her mother. It was too much for one day.
“Why me?” she moaned into the stiff brocade. “What
did I do to piss off the universe?”
“Anything I can do to help?”
She turned her head ever so slightly and cracked one
eye open to find Eli standing in her doorway. As always,
he looked like he’d stepped from the pages of a magazine.
This time it was Men’s Health, with butt-hugging jeans and a
long-sleeved Henley that molded his sculpted torso. A stark
contrast to her uncombed hair, grimy face, and soiled T-shirt.
She retreated into the pillow.
Man, oh man. She must have really pissed off the
universe.
“Everything okay?” he prodded.
“Have you heard the expression bad things come in
threes?” she asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Well, you’re number three.”
“I’m bad?”
For my equilibrium.
“I keep you off balance?”
Damn. She wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.
“Interesting.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” He’d been
suspiciously out of sight since he’d last appeared at her door
bearing a caffeinated peace offering eight days, six hours,
thirty-two minutes, and seventeen seconds ago. Not that she
was counting. She risked another glance at him. Big mistake.
There were those dimples again, courtesy of that cocky,
I-know-you-want-me smile. And how did he manage to
have the perfect amount of sexy stubble morning, noon, and
night? It was criminally unfair for one man to be so damned
attractive.
“I knocked, but your door was open. As usual.” He
leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his
arms. “What are numbers one and two?”
She blinked, both blinded by his hotness and confused
by his question. Staring at him too long was like staring into
the sun. You had to look away or get burned. “Huh?”
“You said I was the third bad thing to happen to you
today. What are the first two?”
“The pipe under my sink is busted, and my mother
thinks I’m an oversize tramp who doesn’t know how to dress
and can’t hold down a decent job,” she blurted before she
could stop herself.
He didn’t pry, letting it slide with an almost imperceptible
lift of his eyebrow. “I’m no good with mothers, but pipes I
can handle. Want me to take a look?”
No. “Sure. Thanks.”
He strode over to her tiny kitchen like a man on a
mission, a citrusy wave of his cologne teasing her nostrils as
he passed by. He squatted in front of the open cabinet under
the sink and pushed up his shirtsleeves, revealing sinewy
forearms with a smattering of dark hair.
Brooke’s heart lurched, and she had to remind herself
to breathe. Holy hell. Since when had she found a man’s
forearms provocative?
Since about three seconds ago, apparently.
She took a few steps toward him, not wanting to get too
close and risk falling under his sexy spell. “How much is this
going to cost me?”
“Let me take a closer look.”
He lay on his back and stuck his head under the sink.
After a few seconds, he raised his arms to adjust something,
exposing a strip of firm, bare flesh between the hem of his
shirt and his waistband. The strip widened as he reached
father up to tinker with a section of pipe closer to the drain.
She took advantage of the opportunity to gawk unobserved,
letting her eyes feast on his rock-hard abs—abs her
naughty fingers remembered all too well and itched to get
reacquainted with.
“You need a new U-bend.” He scooted out from under
the sink and stood, wiping his hands on his jeans.
She hastily averted her eyes, not wanting to get caught
staring. “What’s a U-bend?”
“The pipe that’s shaped like a U. And while you’re at it,
I recommend PVC instead of copper. It’s more efficient and
durable, and it won’t rust or burst. Parts shouldn’t run more
than thirty bucks. I can run to the hardware store and have
them installed in a few hours.”
“Oh, no. I wasn’t asking you to…”
“You’re right. You weren’t asking. I was offering.”
She bit her lip. Accepting help wasn’t her forte. But she
was stuck between a rock and a soggy place. “Are you sure
it’s not too much trouble?”
“Piece of cake.” He jammed his thumbs in his pockets
and rocked on his heels. “I’ve flipped a house or two in my
day.”
She eyed him suspiciously. He might look the part, but
she hadn’t forgotten the designer duds and high-end haircut
he’d been sporting the night they met. “You don’t seem like
a manual labor kind of guy.”
“You’d be surprised what kind of guy I am.” The damn
dimples were back, making her heart flutter. “So how about
it? Am I hired?”
“Only if you let me pay you,” she insisted, pressing her
mouth into a thin, uncompromising line.
He considered it for a minute. “How about you feed me
when I’m done? I like spaghetti.”
Dinner? At her place? Just the two of them? Money
would be a whole lot easier. And a lot less…tempting.
“Couldn’t I give you cash?”
He shook his head. “Money I’ve got. Home cooking I
don’t.”
“Fine.” She couldn’t screw up pasta too badly, could she?
“But you’ll probably wish my sister was at the stove. She’s
the chef.”
“I doubt it.” His eyes raked her up and down then flicked
to his watch. “I’ll be back in forty-five minutes.”
She calculated how much time it would take her to
shower and shave her legs. For her own benefit, of course.
Not Eli’s. A girl was entitled to feel good about herself,
wasn’t she? That was the only reason she was contemplating
wearing the sheer lavender bra and panties at the back of
her underwear drawer, tags still attached.
Liar.
“Can you make it an hour?” She shifted to hide a stain
on her shirt. Pointless, she knew, as there were at least three
more she couldn’t conceal.
“Deal.”

Excerpts. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

 

Book Info:

Real estate mogul Eli Ward needs to keep a low profile on his new project. He’s expecting a fight from the somewhat eclectic folks currently living there. What he doesn’t expect is for that fight to be led by Brooke Worthington, the woman who rocked his world one unforgettable night. The one woman who doesn’t know who he is, which is a good thing. She just sees him as a regular guy. It’s refreshing.

Graphic designer and part-time bartender Brooke Worthington refuses to follow her family’s plan for her. She’s too busy building her artistic career. She doesn’t have time for relationships, either, especially with the super hot Eli, because she has to save the building she lives in with people she thinks of as her real family from some greedy real estate billionaire.

These two have secrets and chemistry that is nothing short of explosive.
Book Links: Amazon B&N iTunes Kobo GoodReads  
 

Meet the Author:

Regina Kyle knew she was destined to be an author when she won a writing contest at age ten with a touching tale about a squirrel and a nut pie. By day, she writes dry legal briefs, representing the state in criminal appeals. At night, she writes steamy romance with heart and humor.

A lover of all things theatrical, Regina lives on the Connecticut coast with her husband, teenage daughter and two melodramatic cats. When she’s not writing, she’s most likely singing, reading, cooking or watching bad reality television. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America and of her local RWA chapter. Her book Triple Dare was a 2016 Booksellers’ Best award winner.
Website | Facebook | Twitter |

 
 
 

25 Responses to “Spotlight & Giveaway: The Billionaire In Her Bed by Regina Kyle”

  1. Teresa Williams

    I keep a secret of how much I spend on books every month .I order them and when they come my husband thinks I’ve won them cause I’m always winning one

  2. Regina Kyle (@Regina_Kyle1)

    I agree, surprises for things like birthdays and Christmas are good. And as for keeping the amount of books you buy secret, well, that’s what my Kindle is for, right? I can hide a heck of a lot of literature in there. 🙂

Please leave a comment