Blog Tour ~ Dirty Books by Carissa Knight ~ Excerpt | Giveaway

Blog Tour ~ Dirty Books by Carissa Knight ~ Excerpt | Giveaway

Afternoon!

Dirty Books by Carissa Knight, Guy staring at you with behind him gym equipment, romance

An excited welcome to the Blog Tour for Dirty Books by Carissa Knight!! So excited to be part as this one just sounds oodles of fun! An instagram-famous personal trainer x a shy/clumsy erotic romance author x one night stand x meeting again = YESSS!

For today’s post I got an excerpt, a giveaway, and lastly also book/author information.

Let’s go!!

Dirty Books by Carissa Knight, Guy in a gym in black/white with a purple and yellow font for the titleSOMETIMES, LIFE CAN BE STRANGER (AND HOTTER) THAN FICTION.

Carlie Taylor, a shy and (often clumsy) erotic romance author, decides to walk on the wild side at Club Nocté’s latest event – a masquerade party. What’s the harm in a little anonymous fun? Well, when that fun leaves you with flashbacks of a stranger’s kiss and the world’s most baffling case of déjà vu, things get interesting.

Enter Adam, a personal trainer with abs that deserve their own Instagram account (oh wait, they have one). When he starts training Carlie, the sparks fly—but not just from the workout burn. There’s something strangely familiar about those biceps, but where could she have seen them before…?

Cue the drama: Adam’s Insta-famous life is like a soap opera, complete with a villainous ex who could give Cruella a run for her money. As Carlie and Adam’s flirty banter turns into something more, the world watches, likes, and comments. But can their fledgling romance survive the glare of the spotlight and the ghost of masquerades past?

The plot thickens like a good protein shake when Carlie has her ‘aha!’ moment. That mysterious, dreamy guy from the club? Yup, it’s Mr. Six-Pack himself. Now, the question isn’t just about enduring a tough gym session, but whether they can flex their hearts into accepting that their one-night stand might just be the real deal.

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Buy this book here: Amazon

About the author:

Carissa KnightCarissa Knight is all about bringing the heat in every romance she writes, but making the journey as angsty and awkward as possible. (Because come on! What could be more fun than making the characters squirm?)

While she’s a new kid around the romcom block, Carissa’s actually been kicking out books for over a decade as award-winning & international bestselling author, Carissa Andrews. If you like paranormal or urban fantasy, check her out.

In the meantime, get ready for her brand new steamy romcom series, “The One Night Stand Club!”

Be sure to sign up for Carissa’s email list to stay on top (wink, wink) of her releases!

Find her here:     

Excerpt

“What’ll it be?” I clear my throat and shoot her a reserved smile, the one I give to new clients who seem like they’d bolt at any hint of intimidation. “Ready to jump into the fire with me?”
Her eyes round, the whites embracing her green irises all the way as she nods.
“Yeah, fire. Jumping—great. Love fire.” She pulls up short, raising a hand to her cheek. “I mean, not actual fire, it might ruin my outfit. Not that it’s a great outfit, but it’s the only one I really like at the moment. So … just, you know, the metaphoric—workout—kind of fire,” she stammers, a mess of words and wide-eyed glances that somehow amplify her charm. “Good, god. Someone stop me.”
I can’t help but grin and exhale. While there’s a hit of disappointment, it’s pretty clear this woman isn’t the one from Nocté.
“Right, metaphoric fire it is, then.” I gesture toward the mats. “How about we start with some warm-up stretches?”
She nods, enthusiasm waning slightly at the prospect of actual exercise, it seems. It makes me wonder why she’s motivated to be here.
Something to ask her when she’s more comfortable.
As she follows me to the mats, her movements are a dance of awkward angles and misplaced steps. To be honest, it’s endearing in its rarity in this place.
“Take a seat and just watch what I do. Then, you do the same. Think you can handle that?” I asked dropping down onto the mat.
She nods tentatively, a small squeak escaping her lips as she sits down opposite me.
I roll through toe touches, figure fours, and even some knee and hip mobility stretches, since it looks like her joints could benefit from a little strengthening. Her hamstrings are awfully tight.
However, watching her attempt to mirror my stretches is like observing a fawn on ice—there’s a willingness, but the execution is wildly imprecise. It’s almost comical, the way she fumbles, and with each slip or overreach.
“Good. Feel warmed up?” I ask when we’ve made it through the full warm-up routine.
Her eyes meet mine and despite the crimson in her cheeks, she nods. “The metaphorical fire is stoked and ready.”
I chuckle, gesturing to a large, inflated balance ball. “Good. That’s what we want. I’ll focus today on core and upper body, with a little bit of cardio thrown in for good measure. Sound good?”
“Whatever you say, boss,” she says, standing up and brushing off her backside.
The gleaming blue balance ball sits in the corner of the room like a challenge made manifest. Perhaps it’s pushing my luck a bit, considering her initial awkwardness, but we gotta start somewhere. Right?
Carlie approaches the ball as if it’s a wild animal that might spook.
“This is pretty basic, so don’t let it freak you out. Here’s what I want you to do … Just sit down gently, like this, feet flat on the floor. Then, we’ll have you do a few crunches and back extensions.” I model the position I want her to get into and stand back up. “I’ll walk you through everything. You’ve got this.”
“Okay.” She nods, then exhales loudly. Her hands lightly skimming the rubbery surface before she turns around and commits her full weight to it.
The ball accepts her with a gentle give, and for a moment, it seems like she might master this precarious throne with perfection.
Her smile beams at me as she glances up and declares, “I am the queen of the— Whoa!”
In an instant, her victory crumbles as the ball skids away, sending her toppling sideways. Her arms windmill, but without much to grab onto, it’s the gym schedules and an advertisement for green juice she takes down with her. She lands with a soft thud, covered in a sea of fluttering paper.
“Are you okay?” I ask, rushing over to her.
Her face peeks out, sheepish and flushed.
Before I can reach a hand out to help her, she’s back on her feet, batting away the paper with a tight laugh.
“I always wanted to make a dramatic entrance. Consider that a rehearsal,” she quips, though her eyes have taken on a wild, maybe even crazy edge.


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