Teaser Thursday

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Here is an excerpt from Aurora Rose Reynolds’ series Until. This excerpt is from the first in the series, Until November. I have personally read this book a couple of months ago and fell in love with it, the whole series, and everything else written by Reynolds. Hope y’all enjoy!

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“So, what are we doing today? Can we go riding?” I ask excitedly.

“No, someone’s coming over in an hour,” he says, wiping his mouth.

“O…kay,” I say slowly, waiting for him to tell me who is coming over. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles. “So, who is it?” I ask after he still doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll see.” He shrugs.

“So, you’re not going to tell me who it is?”

“Nope,” he says, putting his cup and plate into the sink without rinsing it. He starts to walk away, so I clear my throat to get his attention. When he looks at me, I nod my head in the direction of the sink and he raises his eyebrows. So, I nod my head in the direction of the sink again. “Do you have a tic, baby?” he asks, his mouth twitching.

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not your maid, Asher.” He straight out smiles, giving me the dimple, then walks to the sink, takes his plate and cup out, still without rinsing them, and places them in the dishwasher. “You have to rinse it before you put it in the dishwasher,” I tell him, feeling and sounding like a total nag.

“It’s a dishwasher,” he says slowly, walking towards me.

“Ye—” Before I can get the words out, his mouth is on mine. The kiss is deep, wet, and so yummy, that when he pulls his mouth away, my hands are wrapped around his neck and my legs are around his hips. I’m in an Asher fog so deep that he could tell me that it’s not a dishwasher, but a microwave, and I would agree with him completely.

My eyes flutter open. He’s looking down at me with a cocky smile and mumbles, “That’s better.” Then, he squeezes my ass in his hands, sets me on the counter and leaves the kitchen, putting on his shirt as he goes.

“Holy crap,” I whisper. Beast looks at me, grunts, then walks to his dog bed and lays down, completely disappointed in my lack of willpower. “It’s not my fault,” I mumble to my dog. He lets out a breath and shuts his eyes, completely dismissing me. “It’s not,” I say, still mumbling. I hop off the counter, take Asher’s dishes from the dishwasher, rinse off the cream cheese so it doesn’t harden onto the plate, rinse out the cup then place them both back in the dishwasher. The whole time, I’m smiling.

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