I received this book for free from in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.
Series: Red Lipstick Coalition #3
on January 24, 2019
Genres: Contemporary, Love & Romance
Purchase Links: Amazon
ADD TO GOODREADS:
I never thought my first kiss would be on my wedding day.
But here I stand, clutching a bouquet of pale pink roses behind the doors of a Las Vegas chapel, and at the end of the aisle is the absolute last man I imagined would be waiting for me.
Bestselling author. Notorious bad boy. Savagely handsome, dark as sin, chiseled as stone. And somehow, my soon-to-be husband.
Marry him, and I’ll land my dream job. Save him, and I’ll walk away with everything I’ve ever wanted. All I have to do is remember it’s all for show. None of it is real, no matter how real it feels.
But first, I have to survive the kiss.
And with lips like his, I don’t stand a chance.
WARNING: Fangirl flail imminent
THIS BOOK!!! THIS SERIES!!!! THIS COUPLE!! AND MOST OF ALL — THIS AUTHOR!!!! ❤️💋❤️
Ok, hopefully now that that’s out of my system I can be more articulate. (At least I can try.)
In a nutshell, Work in Progress has:
• Shy, bookish heroine armed with a mile-high TBR pile and a tube of the perfect red lipstick
• Successful author hero with a playboy reputation and a heart-of-gold
• A positive loving relationship founded on mutual respect and sizzling attraction
• Marriage of Convenience plot (my catnip!)
• Perfectly written goofball doggo and uppity cat (you can meet towel-tugging Gus the dog in the excerpt below 🥰)
• Excellent depiction of friendship, familial relationships, and cutthroat world of modern celebrity
Work in Progress in the third installment of Staci Hart’s Red Lipstick Coalition series and features shy book blogger Amelia Hall and rockstar-esque writer Thomas Bane. Previous Red Lipstick books include Piece of Work and Player. The fourth (and final 😭) Red Lipstick Coalition book, Well Suited is slated for an April 2019 release.
Work in Progress can be enjoyed as a standalone, yet once you meet the women of the Red Lipstick Coalition their charm might prove too hard to resist and (like me) you’ll find yourself rushing to learn more about Rin, Val, and Katherine. The seamless flow of dialogue and the glow of personalities when these women all appear on the page together is a testament to author Staci Hart’s talent.
Work in Progress is a delightful story of learning to trust. Trust in yourself, trust in others, trust in love. The heart and humor of this book (along with the sexy [and ultimately very satisfying] sexual tension) are compelling and downright addicting. I fell in love with Amelia and Tommy, both individually and as a couple.
Painfully shy, unless she talking about books, Amelia blooms under Tommy’s easy affection and confidence. I really loved how Tommy let himself be vulnerable around Amelia, not just personally but professionally as well. He values Amelia’s intelligence and creative guidance — even reading the epic romance The Lord of Scoundrels by Loretta Chase (MY PERSONAL FAVORITE!) at Amelia’s insistence, in order to improve his own romantic writing. (That he loves the book makes Tommy even more precious).
Work in Progress is sexy and empowering, just like your favorite red lipstick! 💋
The hall bathroom door opened, consequently stopping the earth’s orbit and flinging me into space for lack of gravity.
Thomas Bane stepped out of the doorway in slow motion, propelled by a cloud of steam that licked at his glistening body like it wanted to taste him. His hair was black, wet, curling and dripping in rivulets down the planes and valleys of his expansive chest and abs and narrow hips. He had that thing, the trough of muscle bracketing his hips that caught sluicing water and carried it in an angle that would eventually reach that unknown terrain beneath his towel. I saw the ghost of that terrain, the long, cylindrical bulge that was substantial enough to clearly state its presence, even through the thick towel.
He smirked, dragging his hand through his wet hair. I salivated, watching droplets of water roll down his forearm and collect on the tip of his erotic elbow.
“You’re up,” he said.
I blinked, not knowing when I’d set my coffee down or how many minutes—hours? years?—had passed in the time I spent ogling his body.
He sauntered into the room like he wasn’t basically naked. I tried unsuccessfully not to stare at his knees, the place where his ropy thigh connected, the angular muscles of his calves, the curve of his ankle, the broad pad of his foot.
He was perfectly proportioned. Michelangelo would have carved him twenty feet tall, and women would have worshipped at his perfect feet.
Gus bounced when he saw Tommy, his toys forgotten. And when Gus took off running, Tommy stopped, eyes widening and hands splayed in front of him.
“Gus, no,” he commanded.
To no one’s surprise, Gus did not listen. He barked once, snagged the hem of Tommy’s towel, and whipped it off him in a single tug that exposed every inch of skin on Thomas Bane’s ridiculous body.
Thank God my coffee was already on the counter. I’d have gotten third-degree burns.
For a split second, Tommy was frozen there in all his natural glory, poised to run after his dog, his face drawn and eyes locked on the sweet, disobedient dog. He wasn’t paying any attention to me.
I, however, gave him my full and undivided consideration.
His thighs were a mass of muscle so hard and defined, the tops were planes that came to a notch at his knee and a point where it met his hip. My eyes caught that trough that had before disappeared and followed it where it pointed—straight to the thatch of dark hair and the member nestled there.
The very thick, very long, mostly limp member.
If I stared at it a second longer, I was going to faint—my vision was already dim, my pulse pumping so hard, I could feel it in my neck, at the back of which a cold sweat had broken.
But he shifted to run after Gus, who was galloping away, trailing the towel behind him.
“Dammit, Gus! Gimme that!”
Then it was the back of him I saw, his hair, the streaming water rolling down all the curves of his shoulders, his back, the valley of his spine, and down to the most perfect ass I’d ever seen in real life.
Well, the only ass I’d ever seen in real life that wasn’t my own, and even that I couldn’t get a good look at without a mirror.
Seriously, that ass. That perfectly sculpted ass, round and tight and curved in the sides, shifting from one side to the other as he ran after the damn dog. My gaze caught a tattoo on one ass cheek, and I squinted at it, trying to make it out.
Tommy bent to snag the end of the towel—I caught sight of his sack and almost dissolved through the floor in an acidic puddle of embarrassment—but when he pulled, Gus spun around, ass in the air and tail wagging as he growled, pulling back.
A string of obscenities left Tommy’s mouth, but I was still gaping and staring at his ass. I realized that I was laughing. It sounded like someone else in a different room.
I wondered absently if this was how it felt to have a stroke.