On Tour with Prism Book Tours.
Searching for Sarah
(The Sarah Series #1)
Julieann Dove
Julieann Dove
Adult Contemporary Romance
Paperback & ebook, 333 pagesApril 27th 2017
The first in a three book series called Searching for Sarah. Come meet Sarah and begin her journey....
Sarah Keller is convinced that her Mr. Right is stuck in traffic…in another country…on another planet. ‘Thirty-one and still single’ isn’t how she wants to be introduced by her dad. That’s why she’s on five dating websites, posing as anything from an avid gardener to a crazed thrill seeker.
Sam Turner is a single dad, workaholic, who owns his own company. Long-term relationships have never worked out for him. That’s why he needs a nanny.
When a mutual friend suggests Sarah take the job temporarily, everything changes for them both. Sarah begins falling for the man who meets almost none of her online criteria. And when strange things start happening—things that jeopardize the safety of Sarah, Sam is the last person she would imagine is hiding something.
Julieann Dove lives in Virginia, yet longs to live everywhere else. It doesn’t come as a surprise that along with her gypsy soul, comes an active imagination. That’s why she loves to write and invent worlds and people, so that she can formulate their happily ever after. Hobbies include cooking new recipes, sewing, and spending time with her cute boyfriend/husband and five fabulous children. Vacations happen in Nantucket or the Carolina beaches—anywhere there is inspiration for her next book. One day she hopes to travel to Italy, drive one of those little cars around the countryside, and speak the language fluently!
Other Books by the Author
Tour Schedule
Christian Chick's Thoughts
The Silver Dagger Scriptorium
May 1st:
Reading Is My SuperPower
Hearts & Scribbles
Katie's Clean Book Collection
May 2nd:
Rockin' Book Reviews
Rainy Day Reviews
Nicole's Book Musings
Hardcover Feedback
May 3rd:
Brooke Blogs
Booklove
Book Lover in Florida
May 4th:
Angels With Attitude Book Reviews
Teatime and Books
May 5th: Grand Finale
The Silver Dagger Scriptorium
May 1st:
Reading Is My SuperPower
Hearts & Scribbles
Katie's Clean Book Collection
May 2nd:
Rockin' Book Reviews
Rainy Day Reviews
Nicole's Book Musings
Hardcover Feedback
May 3rd:
Brooke Blogs
Booklove
Book Lover in Florida
May 4th:
Angels With Attitude Book Reviews
Teatime and Books
May 5th: Grand Finale
Tour Giveaway
- 1 winner will receive a signed copy of Waking Amy (US only)
- 1 winner will receive an ebook of Waking Amy (open internationally)
- Ends May 9th
I stared out the window, trying not to focus on his cologne that seemed to be drifting by me with every gesture he made. It was hypnotizing to say the least. I’m such an aromatherapy connoisseur. His was warm, woodsy, and aromatic. It made me want to get drunk off it and swim around in it like a lazy river.
I did my share of fidgeting, completely uncomfortable in this scenario of a dad—whom I help as my current job—taking me on a date. Was it a date? I was certainly dressed up and shaved my legs for it. Nah, it wasn’t a date. For goodness’ sakes, he had a mortgage, a gardener, a dry cleaner on standby, and recycled because it was good for the planet. Most of the guys I dated didn’t even take their clothes out of the dryer the same week they put them inside it. But here I was, with this responsible man, father of one, signer of my paycheck, and had somehow he had morphed into Mr. GQ, with whom I was sharing a ride in his Jaguar to attend a public event on his arm—his very attractive arm. I imagined me smacking myself and reminding myself that he was older…wiser…complicated…and very much not on my radar. I simply was suffering from guy withdrawal. The smelly guy handing out cheese at the farmers’ market on Saturdays would probably look alluring to me at this point. Any man with a pulse within ten feet of me would get a hormonal salute from me. And wearing a tux? Make that a double salute, with a side of weak in the knees.
“Looks like we might’ve dodged the bullet of the speeches. I’m sorry we’re running late. I hope all the food isn’t gone when we get inside. I’m looking forward to the stuffed mushroom caps. They always have mushroom caps at these sorts of things.”
Mushrooms, brushrooms—the man could be telling me Soviet secrets, and I couldn’t have cared less. I was entranced by his steady hand resting on the gearshift. It was an older hand…one that’d probably seen combat in the navy before he retired—seen his share of relationships, too. Like the horrid one he just got out of. Rebounder, rebounder. That’s what he was. I saw the image of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh in my head. Bouncing, bouncing, like a rebounder does. What did I care? I wasn’t even on his radar.
Boy, did I need to get me some young, unattached, un-rebounding male companionship soon. Some simple guy to take me out for tortilla chips and a movie he illegally streamed on his laptop. Whatever. I wouldn’t care this one time. I’d save my “thou shalt not commit piracy” speech this one time. I just needed distraction…and perhaps a small, insignificant peck at the end of the evening. Some physical contact to keep my jumping hormones at bay. I’d hate for one of those to sneak up on me, force me to reach out and touch something that wasn’t for touching.
I did my share of fidgeting, completely uncomfortable in this scenario of a dad—whom I help as my current job—taking me on a date. Was it a date? I was certainly dressed up and shaved my legs for it. Nah, it wasn’t a date. For goodness’ sakes, he had a mortgage, a gardener, a dry cleaner on standby, and recycled because it was good for the planet. Most of the guys I dated didn’t even take their clothes out of the dryer the same week they put them inside it. But here I was, with this responsible man, father of one, signer of my paycheck, and had somehow he had morphed into Mr. GQ, with whom I was sharing a ride in his Jaguar to attend a public event on his arm—his very attractive arm. I imagined me smacking myself and reminding myself that he was older…wiser…complicated…and very much not on my radar. I simply was suffering from guy withdrawal. The smelly guy handing out cheese at the farmers’ market on Saturdays would probably look alluring to me at this point. Any man with a pulse within ten feet of me would get a hormonal salute from me. And wearing a tux? Make that a double salute, with a side of weak in the knees.
“Looks like we might’ve dodged the bullet of the speeches. I’m sorry we’re running late. I hope all the food isn’t gone when we get inside. I’m looking forward to the stuffed mushroom caps. They always have mushroom caps at these sorts of things.”
Mushrooms, brushrooms—the man could be telling me Soviet secrets, and I couldn’t have cared less. I was entranced by his steady hand resting on the gearshift. It was an older hand…one that’d probably seen combat in the navy before he retired—seen his share of relationships, too. Like the horrid one he just got out of. Rebounder, rebounder. That’s what he was. I saw the image of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh in my head. Bouncing, bouncing, like a rebounder does. What did I care? I wasn’t even on his radar.
Boy, did I need to get me some young, unattached, un-rebounding male companionship soon. Some simple guy to take me out for tortilla chips and a movie he illegally streamed on his laptop. Whatever. I wouldn’t care this one time. I’d save my “thou shalt not commit piracy” speech this one time. I just needed distraction…and perhaps a small, insignificant peck at the end of the evening. Some physical contact to keep my jumping hormones at bay. I’d hate for one of those to sneak up on me, force me to reach out and touch something that wasn’t for touching.
