At forty years old, there's one thing Rae wants everyone in Ravenswood
to know - she won't stand for BS in any way. Months since her terrible
divorce, Rae has finally found a place where she feels comfortable, and
nothing, not even the achingly hot guy she's been pining after, can
change that. When she's nominated for a renowned award for her
debut fantasy novel, Rae feels the past rushing back to haunt her - her
literary colleagues will be there, who know her as shy, timid, and always
in the shadow of her accomplished ex-husband. The idea of showing
up with a super hot (albeit super fake) boyfriend makes Rae think she'll
be able to face everyone, and there's only one guy for the job...
Zach Davis has a reputation as Ravenswood's playboy, though he
hasn't indulged that side of himself in a while. Seeing his closest family
and friends pair off over the last couple of years makes Zach realize
something about himself: he's demisexual, and his previously
scandalous ways were a coping mechanism. While he's figuring things
out in his own way, he's also beginning to fall for Rae, a woman he finds
so intriguing it consumes him. Given the opportunity to be her fake
boyfriend for a weekend, Zach jumps at the chance. It'll be the perfect
way to explore his attraction to Rae, as well as get to know her on a
more personal level.
When things get serious at the conference, Rae and Zach are both
cautious. They're slowly revealing everything to each other - secrets
long buried, desires untold, and the tiny things that make them quirky,
unique, and completely irresistible to the other. But is Rae ready to
trust someone with her heart after her disastrous marriage? And will
Zach's insecurities get in the way of a real connection?
The final book in Talia Hibbert's Ravenswood series, THAT KIND OF GUY is an emotional
sucker punch - scintillatingly sexy and tumultuously heartfelt. From the
beginning of the book, Rae and Zach are captivating characters. In a
way, they are getting in their own ways because of pent up anxieties
and overwhelming feelings, things they have kept tamped down. Even
though they both have baggage, Rae and Zach put those concerns
aside to make sure the other is comfortable. But there are signs of
incredible growth and trust when they open up to each other. Reading
and watching as Rae lets her wall down with Zach felt genuine. Zach's
honesty with Rae about his demisexuality was moving, as was her
acceptance and recognition of what a moment it was for him. The
chemistry between these two characters is palpable and oh-so-sexy!
While there are a few appearances from couples from earlier books in
the Ravenswood series, THAT KIND OF
GUY is wholly focused on Zach and Rae. Their story is heart
wrenching and honest, as well as adorable, passionate, and completely
deserved. Highly recommended!
She wants a fake relationship. He needs something real.
If there’s one thing Rae can’t stand, it’s pity. She’s
forty, frazzled, and
fed up—so attending an awards ceremony alone while her ex swans
about with his new wife? Not an option. To avoid total
needs a date of her own. And her young, hot-as-hell new best
the perfect candidate…
Zach Davis, king of casual hookups, has a secret: the notorious
womaniser craves emotional connection, and anonymous encounters
leave him feeling hollow. After years of performance, Zach’s
to be himself. So why does he agree to play Rae’s fake
why does it feel so easy?
When the line between pretence and desire blurs, Zach’s
forced to face
an unexpected truth: there’s nothing phoney about his need
But the jaded divorcée’s been hurt by playboy men before. Can a
weekend of faking it prove that Zach’s for real?
He wrapped his arms around her and spoke into the fall of
her hair. "I'm about to fake-boyfriend you."
After a moment, she relaxed against his chest, flashing him
a familiar smirk. "Is that a verb?"
"It is now." He grazed a kiss over her cheekbone. Lips,
skin, pressure. He'd done this a thousand times—not with
her, but then, it shouldn't really matter that it was with her.
And yet, it did. The way the tension slid out of her body,
the way her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, the
way she stared at his mouth when he was done… it all mattered.
"Is this what fake-boyfriending is?" she whispered.
"It's a process," he told her solemnly, and kissed her
forehead. He could hear his own pulse and it was frantic.
She smiled a little. "This isn't bad."
"Glad to hear it. Tell me when to stop."
"You don't need to stop."
The TV screen of his mind glitched, flashing a fantasy he
wasn't prepared for: Rae, under him, begging him not to
stop. Then the glitch vanished, and it was back to his
He swallowed, then kissed her jaw. She gave a soft, helpless
moan that was doomed to live inside him forever. He'd never
forget it. He'd be at the supermarket in fifteen years' time
trying to choose a flavour of ice cream, and out of nowhere
he'd remember Rae moaning because he'd kissed her fucking jaw.
"Oh my God," she muttered, stiffening in his arms, her gaze
skittering away. She was embarrassed. "I'm so sor—"
"Don't." He nudged her chin until she looked him in the
eyes. And then, finally, he kissed her on the mouth.
He hadn't exactly planned to. They hadn't even discussed
this. He'd been waiting for her to bring up Physical Fake
Boyfriend Boundaries, but she never had, and now… here they
were. He started carefully, his lips gliding over hers,
testing, asking—but soon enough, a seething, potent
something spilled out of him, turning the slight
touch intense. He felt as if he'd shoved her against the
nearest wall and hiked up her skirt. Kissing her like this,
barely breathing her in, was making him shake. He just hoped
to God she wouldn't notice, because he didn't know how to
The way she kissed him back was dizzying. She was careful,
too, her lips slow and curious, like a question. Is this
what we're doing?
He increased the pressure, his hands tightening around her
hips. Yes. This is what we're doing.
Her tongue barely touched his, sweet and slick and sexy as
fuck. Okay. I like it.
That's when things spiralled out of control.
She was hot, liquid, molten. She pressed herself against
him, and he shocked himself by feeling the opposite of
nothing. He felt everything, all at once, without an ounce
of bloody warning, and wondered how he hadn't seen the
signs. He raised a hand to cradle the back of her neck and
grew rapidly addicted to the feel of holding her in secret,
private places. Places no-one else could touch. He wanted to
run his unworthy palms up her thighs, to trace a finger down
the column of her spine, to sweep his thumb over the dip of
her navel. He settled for pushing his tongue deeper into her
mouth. She tasted of wine in a silver cup, of cool, clever
steel. She kissed like she was starving, and it made his
chest cave in. He'd feed her. Of course he would. Whatever
she wanted. As long as what she wanted was him.
He didn't realise he was hard until delicious pain shot
through his body. His jeans were throttling his cock.
Devouring his fake girlfriend with an audience of Way Too
Many hadn't made him hesitate, but a public erection felt a
little too far and a lot too teenage. He meant to break the
kiss gently, but in the end, they came up for air as if
they'd been drowning. They stared at each other with
matching wide eyes, and he wondered if they had matching
thoughts. Maybe. Because she looked shocked, and he sure as
shit felt shocked.