RELEASE
BLITZ
Title:
Rated-XXX
Author:
Mya Oh
Genre:
New Adult Romantic Comedy
Release
Date: September 1, 2020
BLURB
So, this whole
thing started with a dick cake. Literally, a cake shaped like a dick. Phallic
confectionary. I spill a cup of coffee on the patron. We become friends. We
fall in love.
Wait, let’s back-track a bit.
I’m Bailey Finch: twenty-four, living in LA, and working as the lowly Calendar
Editor for a trendy Sex & Relationships magazine - think Cosmo on
methamphetamines. I mostly take coffee orders.
I’m also woefully body-conscious, clinically anxious, and still a virgin. Not
the cute, quirky sort, either. I’m a borderline train-wreck on my best days,
and a dumpster fire on my worst.
But here’s the real kicker: the Dick Cake Guy? He also ends up being the best
career opportunity to possibly fall into my lap. His name is Elijah Mattox:
BDSM Porn Star prodigy, wanna-be mainstream actor, and the subject of my very
first magazine interview.
Or at least, that’s how it started. There was something much bigger yet to come
- no pun intended.
Rated XXX: A virgin. A porn star. A comedy.
GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53959751-rated-xxx
PURCHASE LINKS
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UK: https://amzn.to/3aXDMc4
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Free in Kindle
Unlimited
EXCERPT
“Well, fuck
me.”
Nothing
makes you second-guess yourself like a room full of voluptuous models with tiny
waists and breasts that still remained perky – side-boob abundant – without a
bra. I told myself that if they were silicone, my boobs would look just as
great in a thin, lacy bralette – but still found myself giving my own a
mournful squeeze while hiding behind a potted plant. There there, boobs. You
are stunning, even if you do fall sideways when I lie down. And one might be
slightly bigger than the other. Spoiler alert: it was the left one. I'd named
her Carly.
I'm still
sexy, I told myself. I'm still that girl. You go, Bailey.
When I
tip-toed from behind my hiding spot, I was immediately hit by the blinding
light of bleached-white smiles and perfectly-winged eyeliner. Glossy mouths,
long faux eyelashes. Laughter that rang higher, almost melodic, alongside the
beating music that was playing. I could feel my pulse rise; my brain
determinedly running hurdles as I quickly looked around, trying to find a spot
to belong in a room – nay, a house – brimming with men and women who looked
like they belonged on the set of Ex on the Beach.
Or, you
know, a porn set.
And then, brain
trip. I think I went cross-eyed. Anxious, uncertain of myself, feeling like
a mouse amongst sphinxes. One looked at me, then another, and I could tell what
they were thinking: who is this girl? The girl in what now felt like an
ill-fitting maroon-colored dress with a high-neckline and full-length sleeves.
The girl who bought her makeup at Target and had never worn a single false
eyelash, and had actually forgotten to put mascara on before leaving the house.
Who is she?
And it
wasn't in any sort of inspired way. A maybe-she's-born-with-it way. More
like, who invited the walking tater tot? With no mascara, and practically
blonde eyelashes, I suddenly felt as if I looked like a plague-ridden Victorian
child.
You've made
a massive mistake, the mean, DJ-sounding voice in my head informed. Also, you're
ugly.
I waited
restlessly for Eli to pop up, texting him that I had arrived, when one of the
women approached me. Pink-frosted hair, milky pale complexion – absolutely
perfect, carved from ivory. Her highlighter made her cheeks pop; her eyes
sparkled in that half-drunk, post-orgasm sort of way. She hadn't forgotten the
mascara, and oh, how her ensemble was flawless. She was beautiful.
She smiled
at me, almost too politely, and had the nerve to brush a strand of hair from my
forehead.
“I've never
seen you before,” she remarked. “Have you worked with Eli?”
“Erm,” I
looked down at my knees. I felt, in that instant, like I had stumpy Hobbit
legs. What was I thinking, wearing a dress that cut off mid-thigh? I should
have gone for shorter; something to elongate my legs. And here I was.
Dildo Baggins. “No. I work with Come Magazine. I've been
interviewing him for an article.”
“Ah,”
she nodded. “That makes sense.”
What was that
supposed to mean? I could feel the Spanx sucking in my middle, wondering why
the hell none of these women had an ounce of cellulite on them. Where were the
actually curvy girls? Not to body-shame, of course – just for variety, for
God's sake.
My face
grew hot, and I had only just turned to walk straight out – sorry, Eli, another
time, by which I mean a big fat NOPE – when he tapped me on the shoulder,
extending a cocktail. The same he'd made me before.
“Morgan,”
he didn't take his eyes off me. I felt myself swallow, hard. He wore a fitted
black button-down, black slacks, and a silver watch. His hair was purposefully
messy. His smile cunning as ever. “This is my good friend, Bailey. Doesn't she
look stunning?”
“Oh yes,”
Morgan agreed. “I love your shoes.”
“Thanks,” I
told her. “Payless. Shoe Source.”
She looked
at me as if puzzled. Then, giving Eli a wide smile, she walked away and
disappeared into the throw of glittery bodies.
“For the
love of God,” I exhaled heavily, relieved. I could hear Eli chuckle under his
breath. “Could I just have some cake, please?”
He laughed
louder, almost adoringly. As if he were charmed, and maybe he was. He left,
returned with a big slice, and I happily accepted.
“I gave you
a slice of the tip,” he told me. “I wasn't sure if you were ready for the
shaft, or into balls.”
“I appreciate
your consideration,” I dug in, shoving a large spoonful into my mouth while the
eyes of a hundred former Miss-Carson-Cities studied me like I was
anything but a human woman. “But it's all cake to me.”
AUTHOR BIO
Mya Oh is an author, mother, and amateur baker. Rated-XXX is her debut novel.
When not writing, she enjoys spending time exploring the woods of her rural town. She currently resides on the East Coast with her husband, two sons, and ginger tabby cat.
AUTHOR LINKS
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/oh.mya.books
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Oh_Mya_Books
Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/oh.mya.author
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