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He’s infuriating on purpose.

She’s too irresistible when she hates him.


The first step in solving a problem is recognizing there’s one to begin with. Here’s mine. My new roommate is a conceited, womanizing jerk. He pushes my buttons and drives me so crazy I want to strangle him daily.

There’s a million reasons why I should stay far away from him, the most obvious of which being that I hate him with the fire of a thousand suns.

Except that I don’t hate him.

I sometimes wonder if this back-and-forth between us is all just pretend. All part of a diversion, a line of defense against the heat we generate whenever we are near each other.

It’s a reckless game we’re playing, treading the edge of an attraction so intense it might as well be a grenade.




The love in this book? It sneaks up on you. It comes out of nowhere and spreads everywhere. It’s the kind of all consuming, barrier breaking, heart warming, skin heating, line crossing love that exploded my heart and scattered my emotions.

Giles and Julia have a love/hate friendship that turns into a love/love friendship that turns into so.much.more. The banter and prank war between them was hilarious, but what really got me was how both of them changed so much in such definable ways by each other without either of them really knowing it.

They each have histories that make them insecure – but Julia isn’t going down without a fight. I absolutely loved the fire and spark within her. She’s exactly the kind of heroine I love: sassy, smart, and seriously silly. Julia’s been drug through the flames of a public humiliation that would have the strongest women cowering, but she’s determined to rise above the ashes of her life. She’s one of those women whose true strength is forged by heat. AND I LOVED HER.

Giles is a current manwhore whose curved grin drops panties without effort. There’s something about the look in Julia’s eyes that draws him in, makes him forget everything that tortures him – everything he’s trying to escape. But by letting her in to the darkest parts of his soul, he didn’t realize that she would fill those spots in a way that no one else ever has.

His struggle to believe in something permanent is beautifully believable and wonderfully worrisome. As the line between them keeps shifting, the tension and heat keeps growing. Their intimacy is this gorgeous gift that we get to peek into while they figure out what exactly they are.

ENAMOR is new adulty without being new adulty. You don’t get a stupid girl who falls apart at the first sign of trouble or a fumbling college boy who does idiotic things with his dick. This book combines the best of contemporary romance with the best of new adult and I could not love it any harder.

Thanks for making me cry, Veronica. If it’s any consolation it was a sweet cry of relief and heart tugging happiness that surprised me. I adore ENAMOR. It had me falling from the very first scene. Best book Veronica’s written to date. hands down. #MustRead

[I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review]

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I walk over to the rack of cue sticks and grab one, testing it out in my hand. It’s been a while since I’ve played pool. After grabbing a second stick, I turn to hand it to Giles and the sight of him sitting on the edge of the pool table, watching me, catches me off guard.

He’s still shirtless, wearing a pair of red swim trunks that fit him too well. I’m used to seeing him this way. He’s always shirtless around the house. I’ve pretty much memorized every inch of his upper body. It’s hard not to, when he’s all compact and lean muscles under smooth skin.

I know he can’t see himself. I know he didn’t plan for the room’s lighting to hit him in just the right way, casting shadows in the hollows of his shoulders, biceps, and abs, accentuating his build. He’s set in a spotlight of sorts, which allows glints of the copper tones in his hair to make his eyes glow as if they’re lit from within.

Damn it.

I stare for too long, but he pretends not to notice and reaches for the second cue stick in my hand.

“Ladies first.” He gestures to the table behind him.

I pass him and, reaching the pool table, I rest my forearms on the edge of it. With careful aim, I lunge my cue stick forward and send the cue ball crashing through, balls scurrying in all directions, three finding their pockets.

“Impressive,” he says, from somewhere behind me, though I could’ve sworn he was off to my left just seconds earlier. “You landed two solids. Looks like I’m stripes.”

I move around to find my next target and as I lean forward to make a strike, a hand lays on the table, centimeters from my waist. The surprise makes me miss my shot, and though I hit the cue ball, it jerks forward only an inch or two.

My skin prickles with awareness as I turn to face Giles. He’s standing right there, face barely six inches from mine. So close I swear he’s about to kiss me. My breath gets trapped in my chest and I’m not sure if I’d stop him.

“Can I tell you something without you getting offended?” he asks, voice just loud enough to reach me.

I nod, unsure how he could say anything that could offend me when he’s standing so close with that look in his eyes.

His gaze moves down my face, to the space between us, to my body, and I hope he doesn’t notice I’m breathing just a little harder than before.

“You have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen.”

He looks and sounds so genuine that I couldn’t make a joke if I wanted to. Lost for words, I bring my lower lip in between my teeth. And now he’s looking right at my mouth.

My head spins. The air is just so thick all of a sudden and my thoughts are too fast and too slow at the same time.

“Thanks,” I say, looking down at the way his arm stretches out beside me, his grip closing over the edge of the table. If he set his other arm the same way, I’d be trapped between them.

And I realize I’d like that, a lot.

But he doesn’t cage me in. Instead, he brings his hand up to my face and runs a finger over the edge of my forehead, collecting my hair and tucking it behind my ear. He’s never touched me before. His fingertips grazing my face make my heartbeat go off rhythm.

“I came here for a reason,” he says under his breath, almost to himself, “and now I can’t remember what that reason was.”

I feel the same way. My cue stick is still in my hand, the only reminder we came here to play pool, but suddenly the thought of that game isn’t as enticing as standing here so close to him. His hand lowers from my face to my arm, caressing my skin along the way, triggering trickles of sensations that spread across me. His touch is foreign and yet strangely familiar, as though my body has imagined this moment even while my mind has refused to consider it.

“I get the weird feeling you’re hiding your body,” he says. “That you don’t feel comfortable in your skin but…”

“But what?”

He shakes his head. “But I’ve seen your body, Julia. And I swear, I can’t stop thinking about how it’d feel under mine.”

Oh my God.

Did he just say that? The room warms ten degrees in an instant.


What do I even want to say?

Stop talking. Keep going. Touch me.

My thoughts are turning me in a dozen directions, making it hard for me to know for sure what to say, what to do. My eyes are on his lips, despite not wanting him to spy just how badly his touch and proximity affect me.

“I keep wondering if the curiosity is mutual,” he says, hopeful.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about it,” I hear myself respond in a voice I barely recognize.

I’ve never seen this look in his eyes. It’s like he’s been pulled under a spell, lids lowering, words slow. His hand comes up again and he brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, pulling it slightly down. I let him.

Desire, hot and thick, spreads wider across his face with each passing second.

“And this mouth? I think about it a lot, too. What it would taste like…what it would feel like…”

My lips part farther as I exhale in surprise.

Is this happening? I wait for the inkling to pull away from him, to stop this before it goes further. But no part of me wants this to stop. The heaviness between my legs makes every other thought in my mind seem so small and trivial. And Giles? I bet he’s anything but.

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Veronica Larsen is a contemporary romance novelist who aims to write layered characters and compelling story-lines. Her romance novels are equal parts angst-driven and steamy. They tend to feature strong, but flawed female leads who keep their male counterparts on their toes. Veronica has a thirst for understanding the inner workings of character’s minds, a curiosity propelled by her degree in psychology. She’s an avid reader of all genres, coffee addict, and an unapologetic Potterhead.

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