Cover Reveal ~ The Reality O by Candy Sloane

 

Thank you for joining us in the cover
reveal for The Reality O by Candy Sloane, aka Lisa Burstein, hosted by
Wordsmith Publicity. Take a look at the cover, the
(hilarious) excerpt, and let us know what you think!

 

 

 

Title: The Reality O
Author: Candy
Sloane/Lisa Burstein
Age
Group:
 Adult
Genre: Comedy/Erotic
Romance
 
Add The Reality O on GoodReads
About a year ago a book
titled Sneaking Candy was released. It was about a creative writing graduate
student (Candice Salinas) and her erotic romance author alter-ego (Candy
Sloane). Readers fell in love with Candy and so did author Lisa Burstein. 
Lisa fell so much in
love SHE WROTE A BOOK as Candy Sloane.
The Reality O is Candy
Sloane’s first standalone debut erotic romance novel, but it may not be her
last…
 

Fifteen Contestants, Twelve Episodes & One Chance to Rock Her WorldWhen my best friend Allie posted about my need for an inaugural O on a
prominent dating website it was meant to be a joke.

A joke she was supposed to delete.

But her post started an internet and media frenzy and, when I was offered fifty
thousand dollars to star in my own reality competition show, I had no choice
but to say yes.

The show was supposed to help me meet a carnal companion who could finally
bring me to climax.

Unfortunately, the one person I want to win the undying allegiance of my, well,
you know, can’t be in the running at all.

Now in an L.A. mansion with fifteen very persuasive contestants vying for my
attention and one undeniably sexy Production Assistant secretly getting it all
the word ACTION has a whole new meaning…

Author’s Note: This book is about
sex. There are men kissing women, women kissing women, and men kissing lady
parts. It is not meant for readers under eighteen, or my mother.

 
 
You certainly don’t have to read Sneaking Candy before you read
The Reality O, but if you would like to it’s FREE right now on all e-book
platforms!
 
Find more information about Sneaking Candy here!

 

Excerpt
Behind the Scenes
Make me come for the very first time.
Twenty-five-year-old busty, blond, green-eyed,
straitlaced librarian,
looking for a guy to be able to do what no one
before him has.
 
Above you’ll find the joke “Casual
Encounters” post my best friend Allie put on Craigslist without my knowledge.
On the bright
side, she’d referred to me as busty. On the not so bright side, her bawdy prank
started a chain of crazier than crazy events that neither of us could have
predicted.
Her post was
true. I’d never had an orgasm during sex, or anything else I’d done with
someone else. Yes, even with tongues, fingers, and things stuck in places my
mother and your mother would not want to hear about things being stuck.
My lack of
orgasm without my trusty vibrator wasn’t something I bragged about, but I also
didn’t think it was that weird.
I mean, Allie
told me it was, but it was like rule number one of being friends with her to
never believe anything she said. Her self-described sex life rivaled the tips
in Cosmo magazine—the good parts that
revealed confidences you were pretty sure no human had ever actually
experienced, not the embarrassing anonymous stories that made you feel better
about your own boring sex life.
Or at least,
they’d made me feel better about mine.
I received the
first response to Allie’s post while I was at work shelving books in the
miniscule poetry section of the Bangor Public Library. I was using my recently
awarded Masters of Library Science degree to its fullest for sure.
My phone buzzed
in my back pocket. I picked it up with one hand and squeezed it between my ear
and shoulder, balancing a huge volume by E.E. Cummings in my other hand.
At the time I
didn’t notice, but now, yes, I see the irony.
“Hello,” I
whispered, glancing around to make sure I was alone among the shelves. We
weren’t supposed to take calls in the library, and that day I wished I would
have followed the rule I continually got reprimanded for breaking.
“I want to make
you come,” a breathy voice oozed from the receiver, “I’m going to suck on your
sweet, throbbing clit until…”
“Excuse me!?!” I
screamed. Well, as loudly as you can in the middle of a library. My heart was
pounding so chaotically the people using the free internet could probably hear
it anyway.
“I’ll start by
licking you nice and slow, all around your honey pot, till you’re begging for
it, desperate for more. Then I’ll—”
I hung up. My
throat ached. My face dimpled with sweat.
Honey
pot?

I was too freaked out to even appreciate the humor in a guy trying to talk
dirty while using Winnie the Pooh as his muse.
Yes, freaked
out. I was not turned on. I was terrified. I studied the phone number in my
recent call list. It was local.
I tried to
gather myself, smoothing my tight ponytail as I went back to shelving, but I
couldn’t get his voice out of my head. I kept hearing him. The men I went out
with never talked to me that way. No one
had ever talked to me that way. I certainly didn’t like it, but I also couldn’t
deny the adrenaline shooting and pinging through each limb like my body was a
pinball machine.
I picked up a
slim Anne Sexton paperback—yet another irony in hindsight—and squatted down.
His voice still echoed. My thighs burned as I glided my fingers along the back
spines on the bottom shelf looking for its space.
My phone
vibrated again.
I glanced at the
number before I answered, not the breathy-voiced sicko, another local call. I
should have just let it go to voicemail. I should have, but I didn’t.
“Hello,” I
answered, hesitantly, rubbing one finger along the frame of my glasses—chunky
and bright red, a perfect contrast to my olive green eyes and the one style
decision that always made people wonder about me.
“Hey baby,” a
growl slithered over the line, “I hear you need a real man.”
“Who is this?” I
whispered.
“Your daddy.”
I held out the
phone and stared at it like it had come to life. I could still hear his voice
thrusting through the receiver.
“You want it,
don’t you? I’m going to bend you over a table and shove my twelve-inch-cock
into your dripping wet pussy again and again, my finger right—”
I clicked end
and threw my phone on the ground. My pulse was pounding so feverishly against
my neck it was choking me. What the hell was going on?
Also, who in
this world had a twelve-inch-cock? How did he walk with that thing unless he
used it as a cane?
My phone came to
life again, buzzing and lighting up from where it lay on the floor, like a
horror movie where you thought the monster was dead, but really he was
invincible.
I picked it up
with the tips of two fingers and looked at it, yet another local number I
didn’t recognize. I clicked for the call to go to voicemail.
It was 11:00
a.m., too early to take lunch, but I didn’t care. My phone vibrated in my hand
as yet another call lit up the screen. I forced it to voicemail and texted
Allie to drop everything and meet me at The Sundown.
If it was too
early to take lunch, it was definitely too early to have a drink, but I needed
one. It had to be five o’clock somewhere considering it was sex o’clock on my phone.
 
Preorder The Reality O
 
About the Author
Candy Sloane is
an erotic romance author and the fictional creation of Lisa Burstein from the
New Adult Novel Sneaking Candy. The Reality O is her
debut novel.
Lisa Burstein is
the author of the Young Adult Novels: Pretty Amy and Dear Cassie, and the New
Adult Novels & Novellas: Sneaking Candy, The Next Forever, The Possibility
of Us, and Again. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her very patient husband,
a neurotic dog and two cats. 
 

 

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