Thursday, June 5, 2014

Blog Tour: Pretty Instinct by S.E. Hall

Pretty Instincts Jacket
Pretty Instincts Cover
“If opposites attract, then I am nothing. Because you, you are everything.”

There’s no easy road traveled to such an intense sentiment, one I never dreamt I’d feel…. 


But I also never planned on Cannon Blackwell climbing aboard my tour bus.

This book was so unexpectedly amazing.  I have read other awesome books by this author and so I thought I had her writing style sussed, nope, I was wrong.  This is vastly different and so freaking good.
Lizzie is the lead singer of a band called See You Next Tuesday.  They travel around on a bus that Lizzie owns, her Uncle Bruce is the driver and takes care of all the gig details for them.  There are two other guys and a girl in the band too. 
Well there was a girl in the band until she completely pisses Lizzie off after making a few too many smart arsed comments about Lizzie's brother Conner, who also travels with them on the bus.  Lizzie kicks this girl to the curb at the next rest area and they are left trying to figure out what they are going to do with no one on bass guitar.
No one messes with Conner, he is the most important person in Lizzie's life and if you can't accept that then you can't be in the band.  She is responsible for his safety and well being, she loves him unconditionally.
Cannon Blackwell has just been dumped on the side of the road by his crazy and now ex-fiance with just a bag and his guitar.  The stars must be aligned though because it's the same rest area that Lizzie stopped the bus at.
Cannon ends up joining them on the bus and fits right in to this new lifestyle.  Lizzie is blown away by how awesome he is with Conner and there is just something about him that she is drawn to.  After carrying so much responsibility on her shoulders for everyone in her life it's nice to have someone she can rely on.
"So anytime you start to panic that you turned your head, just stop and trust.  I picked up where you left off. - Cannon
There is a lot going on in Lizzie's life, she has an ongoing battle with her father, over the death of her mother and what happened to Conner when they were younger.  She has so much anger and hatred inside her, yet she has so much love and selflessness for everyone else in her life.  Maybe it's time she lets some of that go, put her needs first and let someone care for her
"And Lizzie', he cradles my cheek and tilts my head up, 'all of my instincts tell me to covet and cherish you fiercely, with each breath and work harder to make you mine." - Cannon
This man has a way with words but he backs it up with actions too.   I completely fell for Cannon 'one breath in for me and one breath out for you' Blackwell.  He is just so sweet.  Lizzie is such a kick arse, awesome and witty girl.   She is trying to be everything to everyone and her own happiness/needs get put on the back burner but Cannon breaks through that wall one brick at a time.
"Thank God opposites attract.  Which means I'm officially nothing,'  I choke on a sob 'because you are everything.  Everything." - Lizzie
Conner - what can I say about Conner, he is such an amazing person to read about and the author created such a wonderful character in him.  I love all his interactions with his 'sister' and how he openly loves everyone in his life with such enthusiasm.  And those fish!  He was so funny and I laughed out loud so many times with his storylines :)
I absolutely LOVED this story and highly recommend this heart warming fabulous read.
I give this 5+ stars

“I can’t let a stranger on the bus with Bubs. What if he’s a mass murderer?” What if he’s not as pretty on the inside as he is on the outside?

“Ah, Mama Bear, run him through all the tests. You’re careful. And he might say we’re crazy and tell us to fuck off. Let’s ask before we worry about it.”

Biding my time, I chew on the inside of my cheek and look back, confirming Conner’s still tossing the Frisbee happily, Rhett watching him. “You asking or am I?” I sigh, hopefully masking the foreign tingle of anticipation working its way up my battered spine.

“He’s hetero, I can tell from here. I say we send in,” he flicks a finger back and forth between my boobs, “the big guns.”


“Don’t lick your lips!” I shove him, mouth agape. “You’re like my brother. That’s illegal in at least forty states, and gross.”


“You didn’t think it was gross when—”


“Enough.” I slap my hand over his mouth hastily. “I’ll go, but you stay right here and watch, closely. He makes a move for a weapon, dial 911 as you run to rescue me.”

“On it.” He grins at me, full of victory, a hint of his earlier teasing still lingering in his expression.

Girding my loins, I think, do women have loins and can they be girded or is that only a guy thing? Summoning my courage, I move with slow, hesitant steps in the miraculous unknown’s direction, reminding myself with each one that it’s for the boys, the band, the overall goal of staying the hell out of Sutton. And it is, but I’m kidding myself if I don’t admit I wouldn’t be this anxious if I was walking up to an ugly man. Or even a kinda good-looking man. Shallow much, Liz? Nah, I have no control over biological response.


Almost there now, his head lifts and turns at my approach, connecting eyes as sable brown as thick molasses to my own. He was tummy-turning enough far away. Up close, he’s better than photoshopped, a clear-cut case for Guinness Genetics. His lips are full, much plumper than my own, and he has a strong nose and jawline, both very masculine, the latter covered in a dark scruff. His hair is the same rich chestnut as his eyes, not too short, but definitely not too long. “Just fucked” hair (isn’t that what they call it?) be damned. He’s got “just fucked her and she had to hold on” locks, unruly in the most intricate fashion. The black boots at the end of long, thick legs are scuffed, faded jeans worn, well, and the long sleeved black thermal he’s wearing? Oh, he wears it, or rather, every muscle in his torso holds it up flawlessly.


Bottom line—he’s easy to look at.

“Are you a deranged serial killer and/or rapist?”


I like to open subtly.


“No, are you?” His timbre is deep and gravely, sending my vagina subliminal messages. Something along the lines of “yup, you want it.” With a voice like that, I’m praying he isn’t a chain smoker. To fuzz this perfect picture with the stench of an ever-present cloud of smoke would be one helluva slap in the face of the Almighty creator.

“No,” I answer too defensively, this instant, highly unusual attraction frying my staple “too cool to care” attitude that, up until right now, I’d like to think I pull off fabulously. “You any good?” I lean and point to the instrument on his back, brows bowed in questioning antagonism.


“Define good,” he deadpans, head down as he pulls the guitar off his back and puts it back in its case.



“Not left-handed.” He shrugs as he straightens back up and captures my gaze.



He laughs, treating me to one seriously enlightening sound, accompanied by the sexiest blindingly white smile. “Then no, not even close to good.”


Damn, I should’ve gone with a mediocre guitarist! Now I’ve backed myself into a corner, Stranger Danger not giving me anything in the form of segue. Struggling, I shove my hands in my back pockets and rock nervously back and forth on my heels, forced to come up with another revealing yet seemingly aloof question.

“Why do you ask?” he rescues me.

“Our band.” I toss my head back toward the bus. “We need a bassist. And since you’re hitchhiking, I thought maybe—”

He drops down from his perch on the top edge of the bench and stands, well over six feet of sinister sex appeal stretching out before my eager eyes. “Do you know what a hitchhiker is?”

“What?” I shake my head to clear it and take a step back. “Yes, of course.”


“You sure about that?” He eats up the steps I’d retreated, placing his body close enough to mine that I can literally feel the battle of push and pull between us. “‘Cause where I come from, hitchhikers stand at the road, where you can see them. It increases their chances of actually landing a ride.” His left eyebrow curves up at one end and that same eye, I swear it, twinkles at me. “Seeing as how I’m sitting at the back of a desolate rest stop, I’m either the worst hitchhiker in history,” another step closer, “or you’re labeling me with the wrong tag.”
S.E. Hall Author Pic
S.E.Hall resides in Arkansas with her husband of 18 years and 4 beautiful daughters. When not in the stands watching her ladies play softball, she enjoys reading and writing. She's also being clutch at Baggo, when it's warm outside!

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