Oops, I’ve Fallen, an all-new laugh out loud romantic comedy from New York Times bestselling author Max Monroe is available now!
If my time with Ryan Miller were a hit track on the radio, I imagine the lyrics would go something like this…
“We’re so different, but they say opposites attract. Oops, I’ve fallen, and my heart doesn’t want to come back.”
But, holy bingo night, is my attraction to the sexy, broody businessman so much more complicated than the chorus of a song.
His dad lives right next to my mom, and after the two of them suffered an unexplained accident while taking down holiday decorations, both Ryan and I were forced to become the only thirtysomething residents of Sunny Creek Village Independent Senior Living Community.
Temporarily moving in might seem like overkill for a fractured tailbone and a severely pulled groin muscle, but believe me, when your mom is as wild as mine and your dad is as cantankerous as Ryan’s, they need supervision to ensure they stick to doctor’s orders.
Constantly thrown together by the antics of our crazy parents and the tough-as-nails community enforcer, Betty Matthews, Ryan and I formed an alliance for the sole purpose of survival.
But I never expected to be so interested in finding out what he was hiding beneath his grumpy, serious demeanor. More than that, I never dreamed what I found would be the kind of man women sell their souls to the devil for.
Unfortunately, our little one-hit wonder on the airwaves has more to say before it comes to an end.
Although, finishing the outro to this song is a real doozy...
Tell me…what lyric rhymes with Oops,
I’ve fallen for my future stepbrother?
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Excerpt
RYAN
Incoming Call Dad.
I’m
tempted not to answer—very tempted, actually—but I do anyway. There’s a chance
he needs me, given the circumstances of my visit in the first place, and I
don’t want to leave him hanging.
“Hey,
Dad.”
“Where
are you?”
“Baggage
claim.”
“Baggage
claim where?”
“Tampa.”
“What
the hell, Ryan?” he bellows, making me close my eyes against the speech I know
is coming. “I told you I’m good. You didn’t need to come here.”
“Yeah,
well, your nurse said otherwise.”
“My
nurse?” he questions. “Who? That old woman Jessica?”
“Old
woman?” I retort on a laugh. “She was younger than you, Dad. By about twenty
years.”
I
had the pleasure of speaking to my dad’s nurse Jessica on FaceTime last night
when I got a call that he had taken some sort of strange fall and had been
escorted to the hospital in an ambulance.
“Whatever.
She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Actually,
she does,” I correct. “And so does your doctor, who also recommended that I
come down and help you out while you’re recovering.”
“Recovering.”
He scoffs. “You’d think I had a heart attack or some shit. I pulled a muscle in
my damn balls.”
I
shut my eyes briefly. “Groin muscle, Dad. You pulled your groin muscle.”
“Same
difference.”
I
want to explain to him there’s a big difference, but in the name of not driving
myself insane—or drawing the attention of everyone around me—I bite my tongue.
“Go
home.”
“Too
late for that. I’m already here,” I answer on a chuckle and step up to the
carousel to snag my black duffel from it.
He
groans. “You’re my least favorite kid sometimes.”
I
shake my head. “I’m your only kid, Dad.”
“Yeah,
and I like you the least right now.”
I
snort. Sal Miller is a seriously complex mix of blunt honesty, overwhelming
affection, and way too much testosterone for a seventy-five-year-old man. The
good news is that when he sounds like he’s being an asshole, I still know that
behind all the flashy insults, he loves me. “Hey, Dad?”
“What?”
“I’ll
see you soon,” I say and hang up the phone before he can respond.
I
scrub a hand down my face and take a deep breath. It’s moments like this that
make me realize how much shit my mom had to put up with when she was still
alive.
Mom,
seriously, you were a saint.
With
my duffel over my shoulder and my small carry-on rolling behind me, I walk out
of the baggage claim area and toward the taxi line.
Normally, I’d rent a car, but since I had
to book this flight so last minute and there’s apparently some kind of
end-of-summer festival going on in downtown Tampa, there were no rentals
available.
Hopefully,
though, I’ll be able to arrange something tomorrow. Or else, I’ll have to
cruise around in my dad’s Porsche while I’m here.
Not
such a terrible fate for me, personally, but as far as taking him places with
an injury to his damn groin muscle, I’m thinking his late-life-crisis Porsche
won’t be ideal.
Once
I make my way through the automatic doors, I spot the taxi line and count only
three people in front of me. Not too bad.
While
I stand in line, I pull my phone back out of my pocket and start scrolling
through work emails. In just the short flight from New York to Tampa—two and a
half hours, tops—my inbox has managed to accumulate over forty emails. Since
the small regional plane didn’t offer Wi-Fi, I had to settle for working on my
end-of-quarter reports.
On
a sigh, I run my hand through my dark-brown hair and begin the task of sifting
through what’s priority and what’s not.
Five
emails done and the taxi line gets smaller by one person.
Another
ten emails and the line gets shorter again.
By
the time I reach the front, I slide my phone into my pocket and wait patiently
as I spot a black taxi heading my way. The driver pulls the cab to a stop right
in front of me, but just as I lift my duffel up and over my shoulder to carry
it to the trunk, a rush of bright red careens past me.
“Oh,
thank you so much!” a female voice calls toward the male driver who has just
gotten out of the driver’s side to assist with bags.
But
he shouldn’t be helping with her bags.
He
should be helping with my bags.
What the fuck?
“Uh,
excuse me?” I question loud enough to catch her attention.
She
looks up from her spot at the trunk. Her long, wavy red hair fans down her
shoulders, and a few rogue curls hang over her face. Bright-blue eyes meet
mine, and I can’t stop my brain from thinking, Well, goddamn.
Smooth
skin, striking features, and a few freckles dotting her nose, she’s…stunning.
The kind of woman that urges a double and triple take. Between her gorgeous
face and the way her long legs look beneath her cutoff jean shorts, this woman
is like the girl next door, but with secrets.
Dirty
fucking secrets.
“Were
you talking to me?” she questions, tilting her head to the side when I don’t
answer right away.
Shit.
Get it together.
Those
blue eyes of hers are still locked with mine, searching them in confusion.
“Uh…yeah…actually,”
I say, clearing my throat. I glance between the taxi and the taxi line. “You’re
kind of stealing my taxi.”
“I
am?”
I
smirk. “Yeah.”
“Did
you call him yourself?”
My
head jerks back in surprise. “Well, no, but—”
“So,
you don’t know this driver?” she questions, looking between the driver and me.
“Do you know him—” she pauses briefly, then asks “—what’s your name, sir?”
“Bob.”
She
smiles at him. “Bob, do you know this man?”
“No.”
The driver shakes his head.
“I
didn’t call him,” I explain on a sigh. “But I followed the rules and waited in
this taxi line like everyone else.”
“You
follow the rules a lot?” she asks, and I don’t know what to make of her
question.
It
sounds dirty and sexy yet sarcastic and accusatory at the same time.
“Don’t
most people?”
“I
don’t.” She winks. “But you keep doing you, Barney Fife. The town of Mayberry
needs you.”
Okay,
she definitely just passive-aggressively called me a square.
“So,
you’re just going to steal my taxi, then?” I question and glance over my
shoulder to note the other people waiting in line like myself, but I quickly
realize I’m the only one standing here. It doesn’t matter, though. My point is
still valid.
“Well,
I guess that depends.”
“On
what?”
“Are
you going to fight me for it?”
Excuse me?
“Am I going to fight you for the taxi?”
She
nods.
“Um,
no,” I answer on a laugh. What a weird fucking question. “I don’t make a huge
habit of fighting women.”
“Okay
then, I guess the answer to your question is yes, then.” She nods. Winks. Taps
her hand on the top of the taxi. “Let’s hit it, Bob.”
Bob
looks between me and the redhead, who is now getting into of the back seat of
his taxi. But eventually, he just shrugs and hops back into the driver’s seat.
Then
they’re off. Just like that.
And
I don’t miss the way the mysterious, taxi-stealing redhead turns around in her
seat to wave to me as they go or the
fact that I’m feeling a lot less attuned to how pretty she is.
Her
manners are apparently very, very ugly.
What in the hell just happened?
My Review:
#OppositesAttract #RomanticComedy #ARC
5 STARS
Love is ageless in a community of the aging.
I loved this story of Carly and Ryan falling in love while
taking care of their respective parents.
It is written in first person In addition to Carly and Ryan’s POV, the
reader also has glimpses of POV from Ryan’s dad, Sal, and Carly’s mom, Stella.
Ryan is a Type A, follow-the-rules kind of guy. He only takes action once it is carefully
considered, and the consequences are thoughtfully weighed. Carly is a fun-loving ski instructor and
business owner. She is spontaneous, a
little wild, and a whole lot sassy. I
adored both of their characters and how real they felt to me. Initially they
clash when they first meet, but it does not take long for them to appreciate
each other for who they are. I love the
friendship they build. I love their
shared pain over the antics of their parents.
(Sal & Stella are a riot and I adored them). I love the attraction between them, a
seriously magnetic pull. They are
smoking hot, and some of their scenes are kindle melting. I love how Carly pulls Ryan into some fun,
and how Ryan pulls Carly to responsibility.
I laughed so much while reading this book. I love the awkward parental love/adult
children dynamic. I love the senior
living community where Sal & Stella live: a comedy gold mine. I love the story of embracing love and
seizing the day, regardless of conventions.
The epilogues provide a wonderful HEA and set up potential future books
and also link this world of Sunny Creek, Florida, to our New York billionaires
that we love so much. I cannot wait for
more. I have yet to be disappointed by a book
written by this author duo and I was not this time. Love, romance, hot scenes, lovable
characters, and laughs are all included in this fantastic rom-com. It was exactly what I needed after kind of a
crazy week.
About Max
Monroe
A duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max
Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more
than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time
friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so
often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two
writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most
favorite adventure thus far.
Connect
with Max Monroe
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