๐Ÿ‘€ ๐Ÿ“šแ”•แ‘Žแ—ดแ—ฉ๐•‚ โ„™แ—ดแ—ด๐•‚๐Ÿ“š ๐Ÿ‘€ โ„๐•–๐•’๐”ป ๐•‹โ„๐”ผ ๐“”xc๐“ฎ๐“ป๐“น๐“ฝ Reveal for Moody by Penelope Ward. แ–‡Eแ’ชEแ—ฉแ”•Iแ‘Ž๐•˜ next week on August 22, 2022. @PenelopeAuthor @GiveMeBooksPR @PenelopeWardAuthor

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Title: Moody
Author: Penelope Ward
Genre: Standalone Contemporary Romance
Release Date: August 22, 2022




BLURB

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new standalone novel.

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The day I showed up to Dax Moodyโ€™s sprawling home, I had no idea what was coming.
As a traveling massage therapist, I was used to entering the houses of strangers.
But this assignment was different from any before it.
From the outside, Iโ€™d correctly assumed the owner was rich. What I didnโ€™t realize was that he would be younger than Iโ€™d imagined, single, stunningly gorgeous, and mysterious.
Despite the fact that Dax had booked a massage, it never actually happened, since our first appointment was unexpectedly cut short by a comedy of errors.
Certain Iโ€™d never see him again after that day, Iโ€™d done nothing but think about the captivating man.
To my surprise, he called a second time. That appointment, we talked a lot, developing a stronger connection. But once again, there was no actual massage.
The man I now affectionately called โ€œMoodyโ€ kept calling me to come back.
It took three times before I finally gave him the massage heโ€™d ordered. Letโ€™s just say it was challenging to keep things professional. I was extremely attracted to Dax, and by that time, I was falling hard.
Eventually, Iโ€™d find out why heโ€™d been so aloof, the reason why he and I could never be together.
Our story was supposed to end there, but it didnโ€™t.
Instead, I was left perpetually longing for a forbidden man.



 

PRE-ORDER LINKS
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Will go live on/around release day
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EXCERPT

Copyright ยฉ 2022 Penelope Ward
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โ€œWhat do you do exactly?โ€
โ€œIโ€ฆstand beside you and rub my hands into your skin and work to get some of the knots out of your muscles.โ€
He shook his head. โ€œNo. I meant, what do you do? Is this your full-time gig?โ€
Is that an insult? โ€œYes. I went to school for massage after college, and I make a good living. Being a massage therapist is not something you do on the side. Itโ€™s a great, fulfilling career in and of itself,โ€ I said defensively.
โ€œI didnโ€™t mean to imply it wasnโ€™t.โ€ He fidgeted with his watch, which looked like it cost more than my car.
I blew out a breath. โ€œI do have other aspirations, but this pays the bills and allows me to put some money away, too. Iโ€™m currently saving for a trip to Europe.โ€
โ€œI see.โ€ He stared out the window, almost looking as though he wanted to escape.
Whatโ€™s with this guy? โ€œLook…I can leave if youโ€™re not comfortable.โ€
โ€œNo.โ€ He walked over to a cabinet and took out a bottle of some kind of liquor. โ€œI just need something to take the edge off.โ€ He poured himself a glass of amber-colored liquid.
I stared at his big, masculine hands. โ€œWell, this is a first.โ€
โ€œA first what?โ€ he asked.
โ€œThe first time a client has ever had to relax before a relaxing massage.โ€ When I laughed, I accidentally snorted.
His eyes narrowed. โ€œWhat the hell was that?โ€
โ€œSorry. I didnโ€™t mean to snort. That happens sometimes when Iโ€™m nervous. It just comes out.โ€
โ€œWhy are you nervous?โ€
โ€œMaybe your attitude is rubbing off on me.โ€
He chugged the alcohol and slammed the glass down. โ€œIโ€™m sorry. I donโ€™t know how to relax. Itโ€™s my nature. Even when Iโ€™m supposed to be freaking relaxing…the thought of relaxing stresses me out.โ€
I nodded. โ€œThatโ€™s actually a real thing. Itโ€™s called relaxation-induced anxiety.โ€
He chuckled. โ€œThanks for the diagnosis.โ€
โ€œI used to be like you. Iโ€™d get panic attacks from the quiet when I tried to meditate.โ€
He licked the side of his mouth. โ€œI suppose that defeats the purpose.โ€
โ€œExactly. And sitting still, like in the hair salon or dentistโ€™s chair, used to make me panicky when I was younger.โ€
โ€œYounger? Youโ€™re pretty young. How long have you been doing this massage thing?โ€ he asked.
โ€œA couple of years.โ€
โ€œWhat made you get into it?โ€
โ€œI wanted to make people feel good. And it doesnโ€™t bore me. I never have to be in one place.โ€
โ€œDoes it pay well? How much of the fee do you get to keep?โ€
My eyes narrowed. โ€œYou ask a lot of questions.โ€
โ€œWell, maybe I need to get comfortable with you before I let you put your hands all over me.โ€
For some reason that comment rubbed me the wrong way. Let me put my hands on him? As if it was a privilege? (As if he could read my mind and sense my attraction? Ugh.)
I raised my voice. โ€œI thought you told the company someone recommended me. Why are you so apprehensive?โ€
โ€œOkay.โ€ He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. โ€œLetโ€™s get this over with. What do I do?โ€
Jesus. Heโ€™s wound tight. โ€œTake off your shirt and lie down on the table. You can leave your pants on or take them off.โ€
He let out a guttural laugh. โ€œTake my pants off?โ€
โ€œYes. Thatโ€™s actually customary. But itโ€™s always the clientโ€™s choice. I can leave the room, if you wish, while you undress. Thereโ€™s a towel to cover yourself. But you can totally leave your pants on, too.โ€
โ€œI will be leaving my pants on, thanks.โ€
โ€œOkay. Just make sure you take the stick out of your ass one way or the other.โ€
He glared at me but finally cracked a slight smile. Iโ€™d take it.
I laughed. โ€œIn all seriousness, just breathe. Thatโ€™s all you need to worry about.โ€ I took a deep breath in, willing myself to take my own advice.
Dax slowly pulled his shirt over his head, once again granting me a view of his rippled muscles. There wasnโ€™t an inch of anything soft on his body. I turned away suddenly when I caught my eyes lingering a little too long.
He then lay down stomach-first on the table and within seconds, I heard the pitter-patter of paws and the clanking of a metal collar coming from down the hall.
A large English sheepdog pushed through the door and entered the room, barking profusely at the sight of me. Then he jumped up on the table and landed on Daxโ€™s back.
โ€œDamn it, Winston!โ€ Dax yelled.
I didnโ€™t even know a dog that big could jump so high. The dog shot me the evil eye. This house is just full of welcoming people.
โ€œHello,โ€ I said awkwardly.
He growled. It seemed Doggy was just as extra as his owner.
โ€œGet off me, you fluffernutter!โ€ Dax groaned.
The dog kept growling at me while I covered my mouth to keep from laughing. โ€œWhy is he so angry?โ€ I asked, trying to stifle my amusement.
โ€œHeโ€™s protective to a fault. He was napping upstairs when you arrived. I hoped heโ€™d stay sleeping. I hadnโ€™t planned on him coming down, although I shouldโ€™ve.โ€
Dax sat up and somehow got the beast of a dog off him. He hopped down off the table. โ€œIโ€™ll be right back,โ€ he said, guiding Winston out of the room and down the hall. The sound of the collar disappeared into the distance.
Left alone for a moment, I exhaled and wandered over to a shelf that displayed various things, including a large, white seashell that seemed completely out of place, given the roomโ€™s otherwise masculine vibe. It was beautiful. Remembering what my mother had told me when I was little, I lifted the shell and placed it against my ear in an attempt to hear โ€œthe ocean.โ€ Met with the ambient noise that resonated from within, I closed my eyes and smiled.
โ€œPlease donโ€™t touch that,โ€ Dax called from behind me.
Shaken by his abrupt tone, I jerked, and the shell slipped from my fingers and crashed to the ground.
He let out a jarring shriek.
My hands shook. โ€œIโ€™m so sorry… I…โ€ I bent to clean up the pieces, but he bolted to stop me.
โ€œDonโ€™t touch anything!โ€ His tone was grating.
โ€œWhy? Itโ€™s my fault,โ€ I insisted.
โ€œPlease just get up,โ€ he commanded in an even harsher tone.
Burning with embarrassment, I stared down at the mess. Thatโ€™s when I realized something had fallen out of the shell.
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AUTHOR BIO
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of contemporary romance.
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She grew up in Boston with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor. Penelope resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
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With over two million books sold, she is a 21-time New York Times bestseller and the author of over thirty books. Her novels have been translated into over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world.
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AUTHOR LINKS

 

OTHER BOOKS BY PENELOPE WARD

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AMAZONย USย /ย UKย /ย CAย /ย AU
B&Nย /ย KOBO / APPLE BOOKS
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AMAZONย USย /ย UKย /ย CAย /ย AU
B&Nย /ย KOBOย /ย APPLE BOOKS

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