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Thursday, January 28, 2016

Blog Tour: Anything More Than Now by Rebecca Paula

It’s the release day for Anything More Than Now by Rebecca Paula! Rebecca is sharing an excerpt and fantastic giveaway with us, so be sure to check out all of the release day festivities and grab your copy of this fantastic new contemporary romance today!



Reagan Landry is months away from college graduation, but instead of excitement, she’s frozen by the fear of letting go — of her ex-boyfriend, of the comfortable life she created for herself in Portland, of the years-long search for her older sister who abandoned her as a homeless teen. When she’s finally forced to decide what’s next, Reagan is met with another complication — her ex’s best friend, Noah Burke, who seems determined that she embraces what could be instead of what has been.

Drunkenly hooking up with his best friend’s ex, Reagan, is a mistake, but being secretly in love with her is so much worse when things seem one-sided. A disenchanted frat boy about to fail out of college, Noah has been living out someone else’s dream after a horrible accident five years earlier. Just when he thinks he’s lost any chance he has with Reagan, she surprises him by agreeing to spend the summer together at his family’s ranch in Montana.

And suddenly what started out as a complication between them becomes serious...until the past starts ripping apart their future.

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She was nothing, then everything. That's how the minutes fell to collide into my world.(1)

Exclusive Excerpt:


I took a chance, fully expecting Reagan to try to stab me with her fork at dinner by surprising her at graduation. Something better happened.
I watched her smile over and again, without hiding. I watched her walk across the stage and get her diploma. And I get to have dinner with her now, like I matter in her life, contained in the small bubble she keeps around herself.
I glance at her across the table and stretch back into the bistro chair. We came to some place nice downtown, a French restaurant. The candle flickers from the middle of the rough-hewn table, the rest of the tabletop littered with our wineglasses and carafes. It’s a tiny place with pink walls that make the crowded tables come alive.
And still I can’t take my eyes off her.
Reagan gives me another flirty smile, then drops her glance to her glass, her cheeks pink from a bit too much wine. She finally unzips her robe, revealing a tight black dress that I want to personally go thank the designer for, after I kiss her, good and hard, and until we lose the meaning of hours and time, and discover the meaning of life.
She drapes the robe against the back of her chair and turns back to me, drumming her glossy red nails over the tabletop. We’ve been here almost three hours now, the entire time having a silent conversation with eyes and lips, all without touching while we talk with Trina.
“Well, graduate, I think it’s time we head out. What do you think?” Trina asks.
The waiter comes and clears away the last of our dessert plates. I’ve never anything like choux à la crème in my life, but I’m rethinking that after sharing the pastry puffs with Reagan, watching her lick her lips of powdered sugar and cream.
I tilt my head back and take the last draining sip of my wine, some peppery red that Trina ordered. Cabernet Franc, I think. I haven’t mastered wine yet. I’m still at the “what’s cheap and will get me drunk” phase of life. And since my dad’s fridge is usually only stocked with Bud Light, I don’t see that changing soon.
She pushes back in her chair and I panic. I don’t want her retreating to her room on the night of graduation. I don’t want to lose her. I can be an adult about this. I can accept she’ll be in New York soon, and I’ll be stuck here in Portland. I missed what time I could have had with her for lots of reasons. What I can’t accept is losing the time I can have with her now, especially when it seems like she finally doesn’t want to stab me or spit in my face.
Trina heads to the front to pay the check and I walk around to Reagan’s side of the table, then sit on the wooden bench hidden by the small alcove behind her. To one side of us is the large-paned window to the street, the late spring night gradually growing gold before the day’s flame is extinguished.
I know people can see us, I know we’re not hiding from the rest of the restaurant, but I really don’t care. And Reagan doesn’t either. She stands up and I glance down at her feet. Heels. Good fucking Lord. Heels and legs and a figure I want to lick each curve of. Her hair cascades down her shoulder in soft curls, and the deep V of her dress perfectly frames her breasts.
I reach out and grab her arms, slowly dragging her to stand between my legs. Her perfume of ginger and honey wraps around me, and words carelessly fall out of my mouth in the fever of it all. “Je veux t’embrasser.”
Her eyelids grow heavy and she sways a bit closer, pressing one hand against my chest to brace herself. “Speaking French now? How smart of you, Noah.” She draws her other hand farther up my thigh, the heat of her hand burning through my dress pants. I swear she’s scorching me alive, all while she wears a dreamy smile on her face.
I tip her chin up so our eyes meet. I’m lost to the jazz, and great wine, and this gorgeous girl who somehow is finally in my life after I’ve spent years being in love with her. “I’m proud of you,” I whisper. I tilt my head up as her breath hitches, moving my lips closer to hers. “That’s why I came today. I’m proud.”
Her lips take mine before I can finish and for once, it doesn’t matter. I’m not in a rush to tell her everything, and we’re not in a rush to ignore what’s happening between us. We kiss in that French restaurant to the quick, tipsy rhythm of Django Reinhardt. We charge ahead blindly, but know the beat, and we lose ourselves in the familiarity of facing the unknown.
I kiss Reagan like I love her, and she kisses back like she just might love me, too.

She was nothing, then everything. That's how the minutes fell to collide into my world.

Rebecca Paula Bio:

Rebecca writes smart, emotional New Adult and historical romances featuring flawed characters struggling to find their place in the world, from Paris to Portland. She’s a lover of rainy days, an unabashed anglophile, and a devote Earl Grey tea drinker. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband and their very spoiled cat, Bella. A wanderlust connoisseur, Rebecca can be caught daydreaming about her next travel adventure when not writing.


Rebecca loves hearing from readers and writers. You can follow her on Twitter @beckapaula or find out more about her and her books at


Twitter: @beckapaula

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