About The Book:
Title: The Boys Next Door
Author: Rosalie Lario
Genre: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Release Date: September 1, 2014
Purchase: Amazon
Life just got a bit more complicated…After a heartbreaking betrayal, Lexi Ferrell is determined to get far away from her small hometown. So when she scores a scholarship to a prestigious law school in Miami, she jumps at the chance to live right on South Beach. Sun, sand, and an endless stream of beautiful people: who could resist? But her apartment complex provides far more than she asked for…in the form of two yummy new neighbors.
Matt Eisler and Ben Santos are best friends. Nothing could tear them apart...or so they thought. But when Lexi enters their life, neither one can resist wanting to make her his own.
Torn between the hot surfer boy and his exotic Latino roommate, Lexi vows to stay away from them both. But as she soon discovers, Matt and Ben are impossible to resist. And they’ll take her any way they can get her…even if it’s together. Could the three of them ever make it work? Because now that she’s experienced one night of unforgettable passion, the last thing she could ever do is choose between the boys next door.
Excerpt:
Several hours later, after calling my parents to let them know I arrived safely and unpacking all my belongings, I get ready for the party. Cora and I share a bathroom, and it’s not very big, but the water flow is decent, and it’s light and airy from the jalousie window that faces a patch of overgrown bushes. The downside is the warm stickiness seeping in through the louvers; my skin feels clammy even while under the spray of the showerhead.
This climate is going to take some getting used to.
Giving up the fight against the humidity, I crank the window open to allow the sunshine in, then shampoo my hair. Sudden pressure builds up behind my eyes, surprising me. I’ve kept a tight rein on my emotions these past few months, knowing I’d fall apart otherwise, but with this big move, everything is starting to catch up with me. As beautiful and exotic as it is down here, it feels so strange. I’ve never been more aware that I’m doing this alone.
I miss Eric.
Maybe not him so much as the idea of him. I miss the comfort of knowing I had someone by my side, someone I was going to marry and grow old with, and someone who supported me.
Until I realized it was all a lie.
The tears spill over, slowly rolling down my cheeks, and it pisses me off. I swore after the first two weeks I would never again cry over that jerk. Though I can justifiably reason that I’m also crying because I’ve left the safety of my parents’ home for the first time, I don’t want to give in to these feelings building up inside.
Wiping my tears, I slather some conditioner into my hair and stick my head under the thick spray. I don’t hear the voice until it’s close by.
“That’s what I told her,” says the male voice. It’s rich and deep, with the slightest hint of an accent that causes an automatic tremor along my spine. Given where we are, I place it as a Latin accent. “I don’t think she heard me.”
Frozen in place, I watch as the profile of a man appears in front of my window, no more than ten feet from where I stand in the shower. He’s ambling along the edge of the bushes, speaking into a sleek cell phone. He doesn’t notice me.
Holy mother of god.
He’s beautiful. Like Hollywood beautiful. No, Adonis beautiful. His deliciously tan skin is highlighted by the fact that he’s wearing nothing more than a pair of gray and white patterned board shorts, revealing gorgeous muscles and rippling abs. His dark hair curls the slightest bit along the nape of his neck, and his lips are firm and full.
My body reacts to the sight of him, the muscles in my abdomen coiling with heat and tension. Do they make them all like this in South Beach? If so, I should’ve moved here long ago.
Absently playing with the string of his board shorts, he laughs into his phone. “I’m trying to get used to it.”
A hint of some exotic-scented flower drifts into the shower. It smells wonderful, but lucky me, I’m allergic to about every type of plant there is, so it’s no surprise when I let out a sharp sneeze.
Shit.
He freezes, and his gaze moves to me. His eyes widen, trailing downward as he turns to face me straight-on.
Mortification sets in when I realize what he has a view of. The bottom of the window sits below my shoulders, but he’s tall and can undoubtedly see several inches below that.
Oh, god. With a delayed response, my hands move up to cover my breasts.
Hot Guy notices and, phone still to his ear, releases a slow grin. “Things are definitely looking up, though.”
My skin grows hot, and I feel a blush burn my cheeks. I stiffen my spine and shoot him a glare, then move my arm to cover my breasts so I can use the other hand to crank the window shut. “Jerk.”
His rumbling chuckle drifts in for a second before the frosted glass cuts off his view.
This climate is going to take some getting used to.
Giving up the fight against the humidity, I crank the window open to allow the sunshine in, then shampoo my hair. Sudden pressure builds up behind my eyes, surprising me. I’ve kept a tight rein on my emotions these past few months, knowing I’d fall apart otherwise, but with this big move, everything is starting to catch up with me. As beautiful and exotic as it is down here, it feels so strange. I’ve never been more aware that I’m doing this alone.
I miss Eric.
Maybe not him so much as the idea of him. I miss the comfort of knowing I had someone by my side, someone I was going to marry and grow old with, and someone who supported me.
Until I realized it was all a lie.
The tears spill over, slowly rolling down my cheeks, and it pisses me off. I swore after the first two weeks I would never again cry over that jerk. Though I can justifiably reason that I’m also crying because I’ve left the safety of my parents’ home for the first time, I don’t want to give in to these feelings building up inside.
Wiping my tears, I slather some conditioner into my hair and stick my head under the thick spray. I don’t hear the voice until it’s close by.
“That’s what I told her,” says the male voice. It’s rich and deep, with the slightest hint of an accent that causes an automatic tremor along my spine. Given where we are, I place it as a Latin accent. “I don’t think she heard me.”
Frozen in place, I watch as the profile of a man appears in front of my window, no more than ten feet from where I stand in the shower. He’s ambling along the edge of the bushes, speaking into a sleek cell phone. He doesn’t notice me.
Holy mother of god.
He’s beautiful. Like Hollywood beautiful. No, Adonis beautiful. His deliciously tan skin is highlighted by the fact that he’s wearing nothing more than a pair of gray and white patterned board shorts, revealing gorgeous muscles and rippling abs. His dark hair curls the slightest bit along the nape of his neck, and his lips are firm and full.
My body reacts to the sight of him, the muscles in my abdomen coiling with heat and tension. Do they make them all like this in South Beach? If so, I should’ve moved here long ago.
Absently playing with the string of his board shorts, he laughs into his phone. “I’m trying to get used to it.”
A hint of some exotic-scented flower drifts into the shower. It smells wonderful, but lucky me, I’m allergic to about every type of plant there is, so it’s no surprise when I let out a sharp sneeze.
Shit.
He freezes, and his gaze moves to me. His eyes widen, trailing downward as he turns to face me straight-on.
Mortification sets in when I realize what he has a view of. The bottom of the window sits below my shoulders, but he’s tall and can undoubtedly see several inches below that.
Oh, god. With a delayed response, my hands move up to cover my breasts.
Hot Guy notices and, phone still to his ear, releases a slow grin. “Things are definitely looking up, though.”
My skin grows hot, and I feel a blush burn my cheeks. I stiffen my spine and shoot him a glare, then move my arm to cover my breasts so I can use the other hand to crank the window shut. “Jerk.”
His rumbling chuckle drifts in for a second before the frosted glass cuts off his view.
About The Author:
Rosalie Lario is the award-winning, paranormal romance author of the Demons of Infernum and the Fallen Warriors series. Rosalie double majored in Anthropology and Classics as an undergraduate student, and briefly considered becoming an archaeologist before realizing they don’t actually live the life of Indiana Jones. So what was a classical geek armed with a lot of useless knowledge to do? Become a lawyer, of course!After attending law school in Florida, she practiced real estate law for several years before finally admitting to herself that negotiating contracts wasn’t nearly as fun as dreaming up stories. She never imagined all the mythology she studied would one day make the perfect fodder for the paranormal romance stories she now dreams up!
When not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family in their home state of Florida
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