BLOG TOUR & REVIEW - One Week Hating You (One Week #2) by Roya Carmen

Title: One Week Hating You

Author: Roya Carmen

Genre: 2nd Chance Love/Hate Story

Release Date: October 25, 2018 

Cover Design: Calico Images

Is it me or is this book hotter and sexier than the previous one?! Or maybe it's just Blake... -- Louise

I really loved this second book, even more than the first. It had me engrossed from the first chapter... I think you have another hit in your series. -- Geneva

I can't put it down. ..one of your best! ... one of the best stories I have read lately. -- Melissa

Maeve is over the moon: life is good and she's about to get married to Peter. But when she loses her job and gets jilted at the altar, her world crumbles and she runs into her momma's arms.

She's back in her small hometown for a week, and she has a plan - make Peter insanely jealous and win him back. Enter Blake Taylor, the boy who broke her heart. She'd rather avoid him at all costs, but with his 'bad boy' good looks and their shared history, Blake is the perfect man for the job, as long as she can stand him long enough - it's just one week, after all.

She'll show Peter that she's not the sweet wallflower he thinks she is, and he'll come running back soon enough.

But when he does, will she still want him?

A second chance love hate story.

This was an interesting story, there were a few times (or more like several) times I wanted to shake Maeve, especially after reading the email her "loving" fiance had the nerve to send her after the wedding debacle. Regardless of how much time one has invested in a relationship, if I read the same thing that was sent to Maeve, there's NO WAY I'd want to rekindle anything, other than a grill to burn everything I'd received from my supposed one true love. But I digress. It made sense for Maeve to go home for a while, to regroup, but running into the one guy who broke her heart in high school is just the icing on the craptastic non-wedding cake that's her current reality.

I gotta say, I wasn't impressed with Blake and his behavior; it's one thing to be cocky, but he came off as a straight-up d-bag right from the start. But, if there was anyone up for the task of creating the illusion that Maeve isn't a boring person, it's Blake. Blake is still the local ladies man, with seemingly no plans on settling down. But is there a reason why he hasn't settled down? 

“It’s complicated,” I try to explain.

“It’s not complicated,” he says. “We were just fucking, I get it. Parker’s the one you’re engaged to.” We’re trudging through his backyard and I’m suddenly taken back to so long ago, when we’d spend hours playing back here. The old tire swing still hangs from the large maple. That old shed is still standing, and so is the old swing set his dad built. His fishing boat sits in its usual spot.

I run after him again, and when I catch up to him, he takes me by surprise when he grabs my arm. “What do you want from me?”

“I…” My heart is pounding so hard. “I… I don’t know. I just want to make sure we’re all right. I don’t want to leave on a bad note.”

He pulls me to him and wraps his hands in my hair. He pulls at it as he draws me in closer, draws me in for a kiss. I get lost in him. I rub the palms of my hands against his neatly trimmed beard, savoring the taste of his mouth. I want him one last time. God, I want him.

He pulls away. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, breathless. “Is this ending on a good note?”

I bury my hands in his hair and pull him back to me. I melt into him when he kisses me again. He grabs my ass and presses me hard against him. I want him to take me inside. I tear my mouth from his. “Take me to your room,” I beg. “Please.”

He trails a hand under the skirt of my dress, toys with my panties. “Nah…” he says.

My eyes grow wide, and my stomach feels like stone. He’s saying no.

“Nah,” he says. “Beds are for you and Parker. You and I… we just fuck, don’t we. Beds are not for us.” He pulls at the band of my panties, and with one swift pull, he slides them over the curve of my ass. I swallow and close my eyes. I let him do this, right in the middle of his backyard, where anyone can see us. I let him because it feels so good. I throw my head back when he slides his hand over my sex.

That’s when I grab onto his wrist and steady his hand. “We need to stop.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice hoarse. “Afraid Parker might see? Hey, why don’t you snap a pic for your Instagram, or are we not doing that anymore?”

I pull away from him but he’s quick to grab my arm. “Come with me,” he says, his voice soft. He takes my hand and leads me out back, towards the shed. I hike my panties back up with one hand and follow eagerly, not quite sure what he’s up to.

When we reach the shed, he swings the door open and pulls me in. He slams the door behind us, and we find ourselves in almost total darkness. It’s cold and damp. The full moon shines through the windows and gives us a bit of light. The small enclosed space is a mess; tools on one wall, lawnmower, tons of fishing gear, a stack of tires, and a table topped with bottles and cans. There’s barely standing room for the two of us. He spins me around and presses me against the door. It smells of peeling paint and rotten wood.

He presses his hot mouth on my neck. “Is this what you want?”

I throw my head back against his shoulder. “Yes…” I whisper, but it comes out as a moan, a desperate whimper.

“I’m going to give you the best fuck of your life.” He drops to his knees and buries his head under my skirt. He trails soft hot kisses up my legs as he slides my panties slowly down. “When you’re laying with Parker, in your fancy silky sheets, and he can’t make you come, you think about this.” His words melt into the flesh of my ass and my eyes roll into the back of my head.

I step out of my panties, one shaking leg at a time. “Yes…” I breathe.

He comes to a stand again and presses both his hands on either side of my head, holding me hostage. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

He pulls me hard against him, and before I can even think of what’s happening, I’m hiked up against him, and he’s inside me, one hand sliding down my clit. In mere seconds, he makes me come, and I know that he’s right.

I probably won’t ever be able to stop thinking about this. Remembering this. And wanting this.

Roya Carmen is a busy mom, romance writer, designer, bookworm, chocoholic, and hopeless romantic. There’s nothing she enjoys more than making up stories about love, and sharing them with her readers.

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