Authors: Alice Clayton
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Women, #Humorous, #General
“An instant classic, with plenty of laugh-out-loud moments and riveting characters.”
New York Times
bestselling author of
Searching for Perfect
“Sultry, seXXXy, super-awesome . . . we LOVE it!”
“Fun and frothy, with a bawdy undercurrent and a hero guaranteed to make your knees wobbly . . .
delivers the perfect blend of sex, romance, and baked goods.”
—Ruthie Knox, bestselling author of
About Last Night
“Alice Clayton strikes again, seducing me with her real woman sex appeal, unparalleled wit and addicting snark; leaving me laughing, blushing, and craving knock all the paintings off the wall sex of my very own.”
—Humor blogger Brittany Gibbons
“Finally a woman who knows her way around a man
a Kitchen-Aid Mixer. She had us at zucchini bread!”
Curvy Girl Guide
“A funny, madcap, smexy romantic contemporary. . . . Fast pacing and a smooth flowing story line will keep you in stitches. . . .”
THE REDHEAD PLAYS HER HAND
“This zany and smoking-hot romance will keep readers in stitches as two strong, well-defined protagonists struggle to navigate their relationship while fame, jealousy, and snarky fans attack from all sides. Fast pacing, witty dialogue, and a cast of well-meaning
friends provide the script for an Oscar-worthy story about a couple whose journey has delighted readers since the beginning.”
RT Book Reviews
“Completely sigh worthy . . . a must-read for contemporary romance lovers.”
“As fresh and sassy as ever. . . . Alice Clayton makes me laugh, cringe, yell at the characters and cry.”
“I adore Grace and Jack. They have such amazing chemistry. The love that flows between them scorches the pages. These two are soul mates who are destined to be together and you believe that with all your heart.”
“Great humor and sex . . . Alice continues to make me laugh out loud, and then writes a scene so hot I swear the windows steam up in the room I’m reading it in.”
THE REDHEAD REVEALED
“The love that flows between Jack and Grace scorches the pages. Witty commentary and playful hilarious sexual banter adds laughter and realism to this story. It’s unusual when an author can find a healthy sexual balance that translates well to paper without sounding raunchy. . . . Hilarious, snarky, smexy, [and] romantic. . . .”
“Steamy romance, witty characters and a barrel full of laughs. . . .”
The Book Vixen
“The serious parts of the story (Grace’s self-doubts, the long distance between Grace and Jack and dealing with the paparazzi)
together with the fun scenes full of witty remarks and the very hot sex scenes make this book so special and great.
The Redhead Revealed
will make you laugh, smile, cry and might also get you thinking about some serious issues.”
About Happy Books
“Where has this series been all my life? It’s just the right touch of everything that makes a book a good read. It had romance (and some steamy sex), funny parts, things that make you cry.”
One Book at a Time
“Another wonderful addition to this series. I laughed out loud on the airplane reading this baby. It’s funny, sexy, and has an addictive ongoing story line.”
Penelope’s Romance Reviews
THE UNIDENTIFIED REDHEAD
“Laugh out loud funny.”
Smokin Hot Books
“If you like your contemporaries sexy, funny, and made of pure fun then get Alice Clayton’s
The Unidentified Redhead
and get ready for a wild laughter filled read about Hollywood, cougars, and poo heads.”
“Reading this was the equivalent of going out for martinis with Ms. Clayton and swapping lengthy pop diatribes and chortling our way through witty repartee.”
“Not only was Grace and Jack’s chemistry off the roof, but their romance was an utterly captivating and engaging one that I couldn’t help but gobble up as fast as I could.”
Larissa’s Bookish Life
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For being there before, during, and always ever after.
Thanks for keeping me sane. Which is a relative term.
This book is 100 percent the result of wanting Banger Nation to have a little more time with their Simon and Caroline. It is because of you, you perfect reader you, that this book is even on the page. Thank you for being patient as you waited for it, for being mouthy when you told all your girlfriends to read it, for being steadfast in your devotion that sexy and silly
exist in the same space. Banger Nation, you get me. So this is for you. Thank you from the bottom of my tiny Grinch heart.
Thank you to my editor, Micki Nuding, and the entire team at Gallery Books for taking such an enormous chance on a new author. Most days I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.
Thank you to my San Francisco/Sausalito detail police, the one and only Staci Reilly. And yes, the Hillevator is real and she could tell you some stories . . .
Thank you to my family, who is incredibly patient with me when I have to say no to things because I’m on a deadline, and for remembering that even though I work in my pajamas some days, it’s still work.
Thank you to the bloggers who bang this drum day in and day out, promoting all of us authors and putting our books into the
hands of your readers. At the end of the day, I am a reader first and a writer second. I appreciate your love of storytelling and your eagerness to share your new favorite book more than you know.
Thank you to some of my favorite authors on the planet, whose words I not only love but who I can now call friends: Kristen Proby, Tiffany Reisz, Jennifer Probst, Ruthie Knox, Kresley Cole, Samantha Young, Sylvia Day, Helena Hunting, Debra Anastasia, Mina Vaughn, Leisa Rayven, EL James, Katy Evans, Jasinda Wilder. Thanks, ladies.
Thank you to Christina Hogrebe, my agent and friend and guide to this crazy world of Get Alice on the Shelves. You’re a brave woman, and I appreciate you a thousand ways. Looking forward to the next meal at Mohonk when we are celebrating something big!
Thank you to one of my oldest and dearest friends, Jessica Royer-Ocken, who has literally gone through the fires of hell to help get this book ready. The fires of hell being my lack of punctuation skillz and my shitty formatting capabilities. Not to mention, she’s a helluva sounding board. And not a bad baker . . .
Thank you to the Captain Hookers, my partners in crime, PQ and Lo (you’d know them as Christina Lauren). For the podcasting, for the texting, for the Tower of Terror. For the love of the mouse.
Thank you to Nina, the best taco a girl could ever ask for. Thank you for the endless motivation, the RPatz pics, and the Gummi Bears when I get fussy. Which, let’s face it, is almost always. Can’t wait for your book!
And a big fat thank you, thank you, and thank you again to you Fantastically Loyal Readers. To those of you who’ve been here from the beginning, to those of you who are just jumping on the Crazy train, thank you. It’s been the ride of a lifetime, and it’s just the beginning. So hold on tight, chickens; here we go!
It was the best of times, it was the nakedest of times . . .
I’d never spent a Christmas away from my family. Christmas to me
family: immediate, extended, and later, created. My family and friends gather, trees are trimmed, presents are wrapped, nog is made and most certainly consumed. It’s Norman Rockwell, with a drunk uncle. I wouldn’t change it for the world.
Except this year. This Christmas was entirely different. This was Rockwellian with a Wallbanger twist.
As a freelance photographer, Simon had a seriously cool job. He traveled the world on assignment for
and Discovery Channel, or whoever needed a photographer to go to the farthest-flung places on earth. This Christmas he was photographing European cities in their holiday best, and he’d be gone nearly the entire month of December.
Since officially becoming a
we’d settled into our own normal. He’d continued to travel for work, booking trips all over the
world: Peru, Chile, England, even a long weekend in LA to do a study at the Playboy Mansion . . . Hardship.
But when my globe-trotting Wallbanger’s home, he’s
. Home with me, either in my apartment or in his. Home with me for the dinners out with Jillian and Benjamin, or playing poker with the other two couples that make up our best friends. Home with me, in my bed or his, my kitchen or his,
on my counter or his
Yet apparently Simon was
away on Christmas. He’d taken jobs in Rome, covering the mass in St. Peter’s Square. The Vanuatu Islands in the South Pacific, the first time zone to celebrate the holiday. He’d even traveled to the North Pole one year and made a snow angel at midnight.
Strange, you say? Not really. His parents were killed in a car accident when he was a senior in high school. Eighteen years old, and his entire world was turned upside down. With no other family, he left Philadelphia a few months later when he enrolled at Stanford, and never looked back.