You guys, I'm super excited to be a part of the Before Jamaica Lane Blog Tour. For those who know me, you know what a HUGE fan I am of Samantha Young. Though Before Jamaica Lane is technically the third novel in the On Dublin Street series, it can easily be read as a stand-alone. Think of it as a companion novel. While its best devoured after reading the first two books, it will still make sense without having to.
For those who haven't heard of this novel...
One simple lesson in seduction between two friends can turn into so much more…
Despite her outgoing demeanor, Olivia is painfully insecure around the opposite sex—usually, she can’t get up the nerve to approach guys she’s interested in. But moving to Edinburgh has given her a new start, and, after she develops a crush on a sexy postgrad, she decides it’s time to push past her fears and go after what she wants.
Nate Sawyer is a gorgeous player who never commits, but to his close friends, he’s as loyal as they come. So when Olivia turns to him with her relationship woes, he offers to instruct her in the art of flirting and to help her become more sexually confident.
The friendly education in seduction soon grows into an intense and hot romance. But then Nate’s past and commitment issues rear their ugly heads, and Olivia is left broken-hearted. When Nate realizes he’s made the biggest mistake of his life, he will have to work harder than he ever has before to entice his best friend into falling back in love with him—or he may lose her forever…
*Sigh* Fantastic summary, am I right? If you haven't read any of Samantha Young's other novels, you have yet to experience how insanely sexy yet complex they are. Seriously, this woman knows how to write a hot novel. Example? Check out this fabulous excerpt courtesy of NAL:
“Benjamin came into the library on Monday.” He gestured for me to go on as he took a
swig of beer. “It was a car wreck, Nate. He asked for a book called Sex Crimes, Honour,
and the Law in Early Modern Spain and I blushed from the tips of my toes to the roots of
“He tried to speak to me, and I was so mortified that I’d blushed I just kept looking at my
feet like a five-year-old crushing on her ten-year- old neighbor.”
“Crap, what is it with this guy?” Nate asked, settling back against the couch.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I think it’s a mental block.”
“A mental block?”
A mental block indeed. It wasn’t that hard to understand why I couldn’t flirt with
Benjamin. The reason why was the reason I’d been avoiding thinking about the whole
thing for the past few days. It was just too depressing. “A mental block,” I repeated. “It’s
the bit that comes after the flirting that is causing my mental block.” I lowered my gaze,
nervously twisting my fingers. “If the flirting worked and I somehow managed to get a
date with Benjamin . . . I’d be terrified.”
“It’s the no-experience thing, Nate. It makes me feel inadequate, unsexy. It doesn’t
matter how much you tell me that I’m attractive, or how much we work on silly flirting,
that inexperience is always there, taunting me. It’s stopping me from doing anything.”
Feeling my cheeks burn, I prepared myself to explain to him just how bad the situation
was. “I’ve kissed two guys, Nate. Two nights of kissing. That’s it. And one of those
nights I was spectacularly drunk and I lost my virginity. Two guys in my entire twenty-
six years on this planet. I don’t even know if I’m a good kisser or not.”
The apartment was silent except for the murmur of the movie. I’d turned the volume
down when Nate buzzed up, and now it was just an annoyance in a tense moment.
He shifted a little closer, studying me carefully. “It’s easy enough to find out.”
“What do you mean?”
I jerked back. “What? No!”
He smirked. “I’ll try not to take that personally.”
“No.” I hurried to reassure him. “It’s not that you’re not kissable,
you know you are, you handsome bastard, it’s just that you’re Nate. We’re friends. It
might get weird.”
He grinned at my answer. “Liv, we’re grown-ups. I think we can handle an experimental
make-out without freaking out and gabbing to all our friends about it.”
I made a face at him. “Funny.”
“Well.” He gave me a “what are you waiting for” look. “Kiss me.”
The pulse in my neck began to throb. “You’re serious?”
My eyes dropped to his mouth. He had a great mouth. Kind of a perfect mouth, actually.
Trembling, I shimmied across the sofa so our knees were touching. “Just kiss you?”
I saw a dimple flash but ignored the fact that he was laughing at me. I was too busy
hyperventilating over whether or not I was about to give Nate Sawyer the worst kiss of
My chest began to rise and fall quickly as I scrambled to catch a proper breath.
“Calm,” Nate murmured.
At his advice, I sucked in a huge breath and with it the fruity scent of Nate’s shampoo.
He wasn’t wearing his usual heady cologne, and in- stead smelled fresh, clean.
For some reason it made me think of him naked.
Oh, boy, Nate naked.
Feeling my skin warm, I saw the question in Nate’s eyes—as if he knew I’d had an
indecent thought and wanted to know what exactly it had been.
To shut out his question, I leaned up and pressed my quivering lips to his.
His body tensed for a moment, seeming to want me to take the lead.
His lips were warm and soft as I brushed my own tentatively against them. Realizing
he wasn’t going to make a move until I really kissed him, I leaned closer, my breasts
brushing his chest, and I pressed my mouth harder against his, my tongue running gently
across the seam of his closed lips.
His mouth parted, letting me in. I flicked my tongue against his, and suddenly I wasn’t in
it alone. He moved his lips against mine, gently licked at my tongue until all I could taste
was sugar and beer and Nate. Our kiss deepened.
Goose bumps rose all over my arms, and my breasts swelled against him.
He groaned, the sound vibrating in my mouth.
My fingers tightened in his hair. I couldn’t even remember putting them there.
My chest was pressed against his. I couldn’t remember him putting his arm around me to
haul me close.
God, he could kiss.
Whoa! For more about Before Jamaica Lane, be sure to check out the links listed below, and don't forget to add it to your TBR list on Goodreads.
New York Times bestselling author Samantha Young is a 27 year old book addict
who graduated from the University of Edinburgh. She lives in Scotland. Visit her
Posted by arrangement with New American Library, a member of Penguin Group (USA)
LLC, A Penguin Random House Company. Copyright © Samantha Young, 2014.