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1 pages, Audiobook
First published June 18, 2014
Wicked Sexy Liar
I’m twenty eight, and just woke in a hotel in Las Vegas married. The fact that I’m not completely freaking out, or searching for the easiest most accessible exit makes absolutely no sense. Instead, I’m just.. calm.This thirty minute audio book was a fantastic look into Ansel’s perspective from the morning after he and Mia get married in Las Vegas. Just listening to this narrator talk in that sexy french accent for half an hour made it worth the price.
I’d seen a hundred girls look at me like that from across the room, but it had never felt like that. Like the air had ignited in the space between us, and the breath had been knocked from my lungs.I recommend to all fans of Sweet Filthy Boy. I’m not sure why it took so long for me to listen to it, but I’m glad I got to it today.


...But I found her again, got her talking, and in a way I can't explain, feel like I made her mine.
As it all comes back to me — in stuttering, jarring flashes of words and lips and skin and laughter, the sounds of her moans and little choked-off begs, the feel of her hands all over me and her eyes holding onto mine as I moved over her — I know more fully that I'm hers.
~ ANSEL


"I can't believe for even a heartbeat that I forgot what happened with Mia. The first thing I noticed was her mouth, full and round, lips the color of cherries and so red it was almost obscene. It sounds cliche that my first reaction was to think of sex, but Jesus it's all that came to mind thinking of those lips.
"Green eyes met mine and there wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to be able to pull my feet from where they seemed to be bolted to the floor, let alone remember my own name. I’d seen a hundred girls look at me like that from across a room, but it had never felt like that, like the air had ignited in the space between us and the breath had been knocked from my lungs. I didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, didn’t hear a decibel of the pounding bass or the drunken shouts of the people around me. I’d been reduced to butterflies in my stomach and the growing weight of my own smile as it stretched across my face."

Mia and I didn't meet so much as collide. At least, that's how it feels when I remember it.
But I found her again, got her talking, and in a way I can't explain, feel like I made her mine. As it all comes back to me — in stuttering, jarring flashes of words and lips and skin and laughter, the sounds of her moans and little choked-off begs, the feel of her hands all over me and her eyes holding onto mine as I moved over her — I know more fully that I'm hers.
"Mia and I didn’t meet, so much as collide."