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A smokin’ hot British player.
A jilted girl.
One night of mistaken identity.

Two weeks before her wedding, Remi Montague’s fiancé drops her faster than a drunken sorority girl in stilettos. Armed with her best friend and a bottle of tequila, she hops a plane to London to drown her sorrows before fall semester begins at Whitman University.

She didn’t plan on attending a masquerade party.

She sure didn’t plan on waking up next to the British bad boy who broke her heart three years ago—the devastatingly handsome and naked Dax Blay. Furthermore, she has no clue how they acquired matching tattoos.

Once back at Whitman together, they endeavor to pretend they never had their night of unbridled passion in London.

But that’s damn hard to do when you live in the same house…

One night.
Two damaged hearts.
The passion of a lifetime.


EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT: Filthy English

Ilsa Madden-Mills

Book Series: 

Filthy English is a modern love story inspired by Romeo and Juliet, and I have a never-seen-before excerpt for you…

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Excerpt

The back and forth banter stopped when he tilted my chin up, his eyes low as they landed on my mouth. Air, textured and heavy, settled over us.

“I’m going all in, Remi.”

What?

I yanked my chin away. “What does that even mean? This is supposed to be a pretend kiss, but you just said you’re all in, and the Dax I know is never all in. He’s casually indifferent to women, a player who goes through women like . . . like a bird goes through worms. You’re a man-slut.”

“You mean man-whore?” he said with a grin.

“I like you too much to use that word.”

“Indeed,” he murmured, biting his lip. “I like you too, angel.”

My heart ached, and I dipped my eyes so he couldn’t see how devastated I was by his nonchalant endearment. He didn’t mean it. Not really. He called lots of girls angel. I’d heard him.

All the old feelings and darkness I’d struggled with for three years came roaring to the forefront of my mind, and I took a step back.

“I—I can’t kiss you,” I breathed, my hands fisting.

“It’s easy. You pucker up and it’s done. I don’t see the problem. We’ve done it a thousand times,” he added, pulling me back against him. “Kiss me, Remi.”

I shivered, feeling our undeniable pull. “You make me so crazy, I want to scream.”

“Hallelujah?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m—I’m scared.”

Scared he would bury my heart alive and walk away. Again.

A long exhale came out. “Goddammit, Remi, just kiss me.” His voice was hoarse, his need apparent.

My mouth parted and his crashed down, fusing with mine. Our tongues met and I attempted to keep it light, but he didn’t allow it, his hands digging into my scalp as he groaned and deepened the pressure. Heat licked up my spine.

God. I pulled back.

“Let go, Remi,” he whispered. “Feel what’s between us. Just one kiss. I promise.”

But . . .

It wouldn’t be just one.

The smell of him, like summer rain and sunshine, hit me, and my arms curled around his hips, my fingers slipping under his shirt and digging into the muscles of his back.

He kissed me, owning my lips with lust and passion, and slowly, ever so softly, I went down the rabbit hole with him, where the entire world whispered yes, him.

He pulled back too soon, and my lips chased after his; I whimpered until he kissed me again, shorter ones, slowing us down. His hands bunched in my hair and he tugged, making me gasp.

“This is crazy,” he breathed. “I—I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t stop myself . . .”

My heart fluttered like moth wings, papery and breathless as if I might disintegrate. “Dax.” I swallowed. “This feels . . .”

“Good?”

“Yes.”

“Is it the best kiss you ever had?” His tongue licked my upper lip. Lightning bolts of heat struck my body.

A reluctant moan came from me. “Yes . . .”

“I won’t let him have you,” he murmured.

I didn’t have to ask who him was.

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(standalone stories with interconnected characters)

Natasha

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I loved Dirty English and I have Filthy English waiting on my kindle, can’t wait to read it! xx

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