Title: The Reality O
Author: Candy
Sloane/Lisa Burstein
Age
Group: Adult
Genre: Comedy/Erotic
Romance
Synopsis
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 World
When 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 Links
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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