A brand new romantic comedy from your favorite snort-laughing duo!
Liam
The moment Sadie Matthews walks through the daycare center door, I feel my world tilt in her direction. Again. I fell for her when I was fourteen, and I'm still not over her. Problem: she still thinks of me as a teen she used to babysit. But I've learned a few things about pleasing a woman in the last fifteen years. I can't wait to show her how good it could be. I need to move quickly before I lose her again. This is more than a game to me, but I still plan to win.
Sadie
I've just survived the worst year of my life. As a single mom of twin toddlers, I don't have time for a man. I barely have time to finish a thought. Who knew that Liam McAllister would grow up to be so devastating? He's everything my husband was not: tall, built, and willing to have a tea party with my girls.
I can't possibly get involved with him. He's too young for me. Too handsome. But he's so persuasive...
Source: advance e-galley provided in exchange for an honest review
This is one adorable story! A divorcée in her thirties meets her twins' daycare provider who just happens to be the kid she used to babysit when she was younger. Now he's all grown up and still has a massive crush on her. Two worlds collide bringing with it lots of laughter and sexy times!
I love this story for a number of reasons, first and foremost that it accurately and hysterically describes the harrowing life of a mom with little kids. There were a few instances that instantly brought me back to when my kids were that age. I remembered the frenzy and that feeling of my brain constantly being in frazzle mode. I can laugh about that now but back then life was insane so I definitely feel some solidarity with Sadie. Second, Bowen and Eby realistically show what life for a single mom is like. She's hesitant to date because her kids must come first. Anything she does for herself is considered selfish and brings with it much guilt. Mom guilt is a bummer. Then there's also her low confidence thanks in part to her ex who made her feel inadequate. It's hard to remember your own sex appeal after you've given birth and are covered in baby food and what other kiddy mess gravitates to you. Naturally, Sadie is confused that a younger man wants to get with her. Aside from the small age difference there's also that awkward I-used-to-babysit-you-and-now-you're-freaking-hot sensation Sadie has. Reason number three why I love Boy Toy: Liam, Liam, Liam. He's all grown up but 15 year-old Liam manages to pipe up every now and then when he gets all horny for Sadie. It's hilarious! Liam is just too perfect and is every single mom's wet dream of a Prince Charming - patient, loves kids, makes delicious pancakes, works out, takes care of his woman. This boy should be cloned (though it would help if he were real first). Sigh.
I had a blast reading Boy Toy. It had me laughing and of course weak in the knees any time Liam did or said something wonderful to Sadie. Complications obviously come in to play because Sadie and Liam are at different stages in their lives and have their responsibilities. But never fear, Bowen and Eby give us our much loved HEA and Sadie and Liam so deserve it!
~ Bel
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EXCERPT
I
messed up. Big time.
These
are my thoughts as I rush into the bathroom for the world’s fastest shower. The
hot spray of water judges me as I hastily wash Liam off my thighs.
A
better mother wouldn’t let this happen. I shouldn’t have a younger lover. If I
didn’t, he wouldn’t be so deliciously appealing. I couldn’t lose my mind, wake
him up out of a sound sleep to ride him like a pony. And then collapse beside
him in peaceful, sated slumber.
Seriously,
how did I let that happen?
You
know how, my hormones scold me. Because
he’s the hottest thing you’ve ever tasted.
Oh
yeah. That.
After
showering I get dressed at top speed. Poor Liam is currently shouldering all my
parental responsibilities. Throwing on yesterday’s sundress, I pause for a
moment to pop a birth control pill, because that’s one thing I won’t goof up.
Then I
hurry downstairs.
The
sight in the kitchen gives me heart palpitations. But not because there’s flour
dusting much of the countertop. Rather, it’s the hot, shirtless guy holding my
toddler and making a dump truck sound as Amy tips the measuring spoon over a
bowl.
“Yes!
Well done, little miss,” he says, relieving her of the spoon. “Batter up!” he
says, easing her to the floor and catching Kate, who’s trying to climb him like
a tree.
Aren’t
we all.
Liam
easily rests Kate on one of his perfect arms, measures a half teaspoon of
baking powder one-handed and then hands the spoon to Kate. “Beep beep beep,” he
says, making the sound of a truck backing up. “Look out below!”
Kate
dumps the spoonful into the bowl and giggles.
“Awesome.
Who wants to add the milk?”
“My do
it!” Amy yells.
Boy, I
need another minute of alone time to compose myself. Because I love this
picture a little too much. I love Liam’s ease with my girls. I love how calm he
is at the center of toddler-induced mayhem.
It
causes a little pain in my heart as I allow myself one more comparison to my
former life. The truth is I never once saw Decker elbows-deep in kitchen chaos
with a kid on one arm. Starting breakfast with twins in tow? He was more likely
to captain a NASA expedition to Mars than he was to do this simple Saturday
morning thing.
I feel
like crying for no reason at all. Clearly I’m on some kind of emotional
overload. Maybe coffee will help.
Sliding
into the kitchen, I go right for the coffee grounds.
“Mama!”
Amy says. “Wiam making pancakes.”
“That
is amazing,” I say in a wobbly voice. “What a lucky girl you are.”
“Sorry
about the mess,” he says, casting a glance in my direction. And I know
he doesn’t just mean the flour on the counter, but the bigger mess of waking up
naked in my bed.
“You
know,” I say with a small sigh. “Messes shouldn’t scare me so much. It’s going
to be fine.”
Liam’s
smile is so filled with relief, that I now feel like an ogre. This man wants to
make pancakes with us on Saturday morning, and I said no to that before? I’m
clearly insane.
“Which
frying pan should I use?” he asks, casting an eye on the cookware hanging from
the rack over the sink.
“Oh,
no. You want this.” I pull a double-burner griddle out of a lower cabinet.
“Oooh,”
he says. “Mommy has the fancy pancake griddle.”
Kate
giggles. She’s gazing at Liam as if he invented fun.
And in
my life, I guess he did.
Here’s
the tricky thing about being a shrink—sometimes you notice that you’re doing
something that’s exactly contrary to the advice you’d give your patients.
I’m
having one of those moments right now.
If I
had a single mom in my office telling me there was a lovely guy in her life who
was kind to her kids—and yet she was giving him the stiff arm? I’d tell her:
“Be kind to yourself. Don’t push away the good people in your life, especially
if you think you don’t deserve them. Let people surprise you.”
I’m
such a hypocrite.
Also, I
need caffeine.
Ten
minutes later I’m sipping from a mug of coffee, but Liam’s is cooling on the
countertop. The man has his hands full right now as he puts pancakes on the
griddle with “help” from my daughters.
“How
about a few of these?” he asks, holding up a bag of chocolate chips. Meanwhile,
Kate waves the spatula around like a ninja. “A guy needs to make smiley faces
in his pancakes sometimes.”
Good.
Lord. It’s a miracle I’m not just a puddle of my former self right now. This is
some serious mommy porn I’m watching. Shirtless guy feeds toddlers before
eight a.m. I walk over to the high cabinet where I keep the ramekins. “We
could make smiley faces with dried organic currants,” I say, just to be a pain
in the ass.
Liam
makes a face of disgust as I take the chocolate chips from his hand and pour
some into a ramekin. “Joking! Here.”
He
gives me a big, hot smile. Okay, it probably wasn’t meant to be hot, but I feel
flutters down below.
“Choc-it!”
Kate yells, grabbing for the ramekin.
“Easy,”
Liam says with a laugh. “That’s for my artwork. Come here and I’ll show you.”
I set
the table and pour the sippy cups of milk. And Liam manages to serve up two
smiley pancakes—one for each girl—at exactly the same moment, in exactly the
same size. This is a man who knows his way around toddlers.
“Not
cut it!” Amy yells when I approach her plate with a knife. She picks up the
pancake in two hands and takes a bite right out of the side of its face.
“Okay,
right.” I back away. Forks are optional today, then. No big deal.
Liam
takes advantage of this moment of quiet to quickly pour six more pancakes onto
the griddle. He leans over his work, dotting them with chocolate chips.
I step
closer to him and put a hand on his lower back. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“For
trashing your kitchen?”
“No.”
He glances at me and I give him a shy smile. “For being so amazing all the
time.”
His
eyes get very warm, and I just want to stay right here in that blue-eyed gaze
as long as I can. “This might be a good time to confess that I didn’t make
smiley faces on my own pancakes.”
“No?” I
look down at the griddle. Side by side, two of them have a different
design—little bullseyes in their centers. “Those are…?”
“Boobs,”
he whispers. “My inner fourteen-year-old has a dirty mind. He can’t shut it off
sometimes.”
“Drink
your coffee,” I whisper, handing him the mug. “Sit down. Let me finish these
for you. Or go put on a shirt because my inner fourteen-year-old has her
tongue hanging out all the time, too.”
He gives me a wicked, wicked smile and then runs upstairs to find
his shirt.
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