Not You It's Me
by Julie Johnson Find the Author: Website
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on July 7, 2015 Genres: Romance, Contemporary, New Adult Goodreads AMZ US AMZ UK B&N Kobo
Gemma Summers is unlucky in love.
She’s known it since third grade, when her first crush blew a spitball into her hair, and a decade-long string of bad dates, boring sex, and abysmal morning-afters has done nothing to improve her prospects.
But when a random radio call-in contest lands her courtside tickets to the hottest playoff game of the season, Gemma’s luck may finally be on the upswing — even if it doesn’t exactly seem like it when the dreaded jumbotron kiss-cam lands on her and her date, who’s too busy ignoring her to notice…
Chase Croft doesn’t date.
Despite ample opportunity as Boston’s most eligible bachelor, the reformed bad-boy would rather put his energy into taking over the family business than weed through a world of gold-diggers to find an honest woman.
But when the beautiful girl in the seat next to him becomes a courtside spectacle at the hands of her loser boyfriend, he can’t help but step in and save the day.
One kiss. Two strangers. No strings attached.
The only problem is, Chase is used to getting whatever he wants. And after kissing Gemma once, he knows one thing…
He wants more.
NOT YOU IT’S ME is a full-length, standalone contemporary romance about a girl who doesn’t believe in love… and the man who changes her mind. Due to sexy-times and strong language, it is intended for readers 17 and up.
I was provided a review copy by Author; this did not influence my opinion of the book.
With her fourth book, Not You It’s Me, Julie Johnson has ventured away from Romantic Suspense and shifted toward Romantic Comedy. Her first three books, Like Gravity, Say The Word and Erasing Faith, while humorous in their own right, were still fundamentally romantic suspense. Where as, Not You It’s Me, is more comedy with a little suspense.
On a last ditch effort to save her terrible relationship, Gemma Summers calls into a radio show hoping to score the hottest tickets around, court-side seats to the playoff game. Surely this will add some spice into her relationship and make her boyfriend at least act like he likes her… or so she hopes. Unfortunately, through the entire game, her boyfriend stayed on his phone, including during the close-up of the KISS CAM, which was aimed directly at them. He’s too busy to notice the cam and her, and she’s mortified. But the handsome, most eligible bachelor Chase Croft notices the cam and Gemma and gives her a kiss that rocks her world!
Suddenly the press wants to know who she is. She is hounded at every turn. Chase has his own reasons to keep her hidden and away from himself. But that doesn’t work out because he can’t fight his attraction.
She has never had good luck with men, so she is leery of his intentions.
As I was reading this I couldn’t help but think this would make a GREAT movie! I could so see it on the big screen. This would surely be a hit.
I have always described this authors writing style as; descriptive, lyrical, poetic, moving, and funny, and that she is incredibly insightful and sprinkles life lessons throughout her books. But with the focus on comedy, I missed the emotional connection I usually feel for Ms. Johnson’s characters as well as her usual insightful passages.
Ms. Johnson will continue to be a one-click author for me, she is an amazing story teller.
The camera’s locked on me, and it’s not moving. I catch a glimpse of myself on the huge, pixilated screen — a pale, dark-haired girl in a fancy black dress and ratty black sneakers. Too many curves, too many curls, and no one to kiss. I know there’s panic flashing in my eyes — hell, I can see it, blown up to jumbo proportions on every screen in the arena. And so can everyone else.
I’m a freaking ant beneath a microscope.
The crowd starts to titter — oh, honey, look at that poor girl, her boyfriend hasn’t even noticed — and I’m getting a little desperate, so I swallow hard, throw back my shoulders, and sneak a glance at Ralph. He’s still on his phone, the bastard, totally unaware that we’ve become the central act at the kiss-cam circus. Forcing a smile to cover my deep mortification, I elbow him sharply in the side, but he just bats me away with a hand and a glare before returning to his phone call.
The crowd explodes with laughter.
I try to smile too, like I’m in on the joke, but it’s wobbly — I can feel it trembling on my lips — and I begin to wonder if the man behind the camera is some kind of sociopath, because frankly, the fact that he’s still filming right now — while surely entertaining for everyone who, you know, isn’t me — is pure evil.
I look up at the camera and shrug my shoulders, hoping the yes-my-boyfriend-is-in-fact-a-total-asshole expression translates to the crowd. I think I succeed, since the laughter gets even louder, but suddenly I’m distracted by the wall of man blocking my view of the jumbotron.
Green Eyes is out of his seat.
His eyes are on mine, and he’s reaching for my hand.
The crowd is going wild and my brain is short-circuiting, but apparently my hand doesn’t need executive functions to tell it what to do, because it’s lifting from my lap and slipping into his.
Before I can form a single thought, he’s pulling me out of my chair.
Sliding one arm around my waist.
Slipping one hand behind my neck.
His eyes never leave mine as he leans in, bending me backward over his arm in a full-on, movie-star dip, and the only thought in my head is ohmigod, there’s no way he’s going to kiss me right now, but then even that disappears when his lips move closer and my mind blanks entirely.
Because he’s kissing me.
And it’s good.
No, actually, it’s great.
It’s not the soft, sympathetic, pity-kiss you’d expect in a situation like this.
It’s a full on, invade-your-senses, shatter-your-world, boil-your-blood kiss. With tongue.
For a moment, I’m so stunned, I just hang there limply… but then my brain catches up to my body and I realize that the hottest freaking man I’ve ever seen is kissing me like I’ve never, ever been kissed before, and that I might never be kissed like this again for the rest of my whole pathetic life, so I damn well better enjoy it while it lasts.
Without another thought, my arms twine around his neck, my mouth opens under his, and I’m returning his kiss without hesitation, with abandon. He feels my response and a low growl vibrates from his throat — for as second, I think he’s angry, but I quickly realize it’s a good growl, when he pulls me tighter to him, so I’m fully plastered against the hard plane of his body. Thoughts long-chased from my mind, I don’t even try to think of reasons this is a bad idea. I melt into him like my limbs are made of water.
It’s easily the best kiss of my life, which doesn’t make any sense at all, because I don’t even know the man whose lips are devouring mine — hard, hot, with just the right amount of teeth and tongue to make things interesting.
I can hear the crowd going crazy, twenty-thousand people screaming at the top of their lungs, but somehow the sound of my own heartbeat is drowning them out. The kiss goes on for way, way longer than it should, but I don’t worry about that, or anything else for that matter, because there’s no room in my head for worries about my dickwad soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend or the crowd or the cameras.
Not when every mental faculty is consumed by Green Eyes and his perfect freaking kiss.
You Should Know Where I’m Coming From – Banks
Treacherous – Taylor Swift
Beneath Your Beautiful – Labrinth
American Girl – Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
Stay With Me – Sam Smith
Gotta Have You – The Weepies
The Way I Am – Ingrid Michaelson
Lay Me Down – Sam Smith
Love Me Like You Do – Ellie Goulding
If You Leave – Nada Surf
The Writer – Ellie Goulding
You Are In Love – Taylor Swift
Thinking Out Loud – Ed Sheeran
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