Monday 30 September 2013

Blog Tour - Can't Go Home by Angelisa Stone


Everyone has secrets; secrets meant to be kept—hidden away where nobody can discover the truth.  Adrian O’Donnell (aka: Dre Donley) is no exception.  Dre spins tales and half-truths like it’s his job, keeping the reality of his past buried deep within each lie he fabricates.  On the other hand, Kathryn Howell is the exception to the rule.  She’s a straight-shooter, a tell-it-like-it-is, no filter kind of girl. 

Kathryn’s honesty and straightforwardness is the ultimate turn on for a guy like Dre.  He’s never met someone so sincere, so full of truth and innocence.  Their chemistry is unavoidable, their connection, magnetic.  When Dre sets out to make Kathryn fall for him, he doesn’t realize the grave mistake he’s making.  Kathryn’s strength and convictions do not falter, even for an irresistible man like Dre. When his past resurfaces, and the lies come tumbling forth, Kathryn must decide if his deceit and betrayal can be forgiven or if the damage is irreparable. Will the truth ultimately destroy the relationship that neither one of them could deny or even attempt to resist?

This novel is for mature readers only, due to language and sexual content. 

Who is Angelisa Stone?
 Angelisa Stone is a typical Midwestern wife and mom, frazzled by parenting and housework, and overwhelmed with sports schedules, doctor appointments, and three-dimensional creative projects due “tomorrow morning.”  Angelisa dreams of white sandy beaches, clear-blue waters, and Midori coladas in hand, but realizes that her loving husband and four not-so-perfect children are her real dreams-come-true.  Writing and reading are her passions, and she hopes (and prays with her fingers tightly crossed) that readers will find enjoyment and escape through her words and characters.


“Little late getting back from lunch, eh?” I ask as Kathryn gets out of her car.

“I didn’t realize my stalker was keeping track of the time clock,” she says, uncapping her lip-gloss.
Fuck.  She is not going to put that on in front of me.  Don’t do it.  Don’t.  Don’t. Aww fuck, she is.  The stick thing glides over her bottom lip, layering her lip in a thick, wet shine.  Holy shit.  I can think of quite few other things that I’d want to trail over those sexy lips.
“Hey Dre, cat got your tongue?” Kathryn asks, winking at me.  Well, well, well, what do we have here? Kathryn Howell is flirting with me.  This is a strange turn of events. 
“No Ma’am, the cat most certainly does not have my tongue.  I can do anything you’d like me to with my tongue…anything,” I say, seeing her sexual innuendo, and doubling and raising anything she may add. 
Fanning herself, she says, “It’s getting too hot for my blood; I fold,” she announces, walking to the office door.  “Seriously though, what brings ya back to the Agency?” she asks coyly.
“I wanted to see if a certain literary agent wanted to have dinner tonight,” I admit.
“If she’s an agent, then she’s probably ‘booked’ for the night,” she says, cracking herself up.  I groan at her cheesy joke.  “Ba-dump-ba! I’m here all night, folks.” 
Kathryn Howell is adorable.  She’s corny, quirky, and sexy too.  I can’t take my eyes off of her.  Smiling, Kathryn says, “Well, what’s her name?  I’ll ask her when I get inside.”
“Katie something or other.  Just tell her I’ll be out here tonight at 5:30,” I say, starting to walk away.  I stop, turn around, and add, “If she’s not here by 5:45, then I’m hitting up that waitress, ‘Allie with i.’ I hear she’s got crabs, but I’ll take my chances.” 
Laughing, she says, “I’ll let her know. Wouldn’t want those all-you-can-eat-crabs spreading all over town.”  Kathryn waves, turns to leave, but stops, and then looks back at me to add, “Oh…and Dre, please don’t call me ‘Katie.’ I hate it.”
“Then you’ll never hear me say it again,” I promise her.  A grin travels all the way across her face; you can even see the smile in her eyes.  I thought she might be a little hard to get, but this was going smoothly—very smoothly.


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