May 25, 2020 3 min to read
Review: Mister McHottie by Pippa Grant
Category : Reviews
”My favorite rom-com debut ever.” – Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author Lucy Score
There are three things I hate:
Bratwurst in any form, my neighbors boinking like farm animals at 3 AM, and Chase Jett.
Mostly I hate Chase Jett. It’s been ten years since he took my virginity—I’d make a bratwurst joke, but the unfortunate truth is that it would have to be a brat-best joke, and yes, it kills me to admit that—and now he’s not only a billionaire, he’s also my new boss.
Turns out our hate is mutual. And this kind of hate is horrifically twisted, filthy, and banging hot.
I just might have to hate him forever.
Mister McHottie is 45,000 gloriously hilarious, hot, sexy words that your mother warned you about, complete with an organic happy-ever-after (or seven), a Bratwurst Wagon, ill-advised office pranks, and no cheating or cliffhangers.
Title: Mister McHottie
Author: Pippa Grant
Genre: Romance-Comedy, enemies-to-lovers. Second-chance, sibling’s best friend
Part of a Series: Book 1 in the Mister McHottie world
POV: Ambrosia and Chase
Steam Level: Toasty
I started reading Pippa Grant with Stud in the Stacks (book two in this world) and I devoured all of her books since. Mister McHottie was the only one I hadn’t read and I’m so glad that I made time to read it. Mister McHottie is just as awesome as the other books with several snort laugh out loud moments Bro and Chase are ridiculous and I love her brothers. I want to reread the rest of these books and cannot wait for more. Pippa Grant has become one of my favorite authors and made it to my one-click list.
- Six feet of pure sin stands wide-legged in the doorway. His smile is a lie, his smoky blue eyes a portal to self-destruction, the dimple in his chin twice the size needed to store what’s left of his conscience.
- I can smell the estrogen his presence has prompted. Half of my coworkers just spontaneously ovulated.
- I turn, making myself stare straight into the pits of hell. Or, you know, his eyes. Which are more of a Caribbean sea blue than cinder and ash.
- She went with normal like forks went with electrical outlets.
- Christ, that mouth. I want to lick it and tape it shut all at the same time.
- I wave goodbye to rational thought and better judgment—who needs those bitches anyway?
- My sanity has fled the building. Maybe the whole city. Hell, it’s just skyrocketed out of the fucking atmosphere.
- “Feel better?” I ask Ares. “No way, motherfucker.” The term he’s really looking for is sister fucker, but there’s no sense in waving red panties in front of the bull.
- For the first time in my life, I wonder if I was a shithead. Always proudly claimed hellion. Never considered shithead. It’s enlightening. Not sure how I feel about this.
- When he smiles, fairies sing and the sun shoots glitter on its light beams and magical, happy, non-possessed unicorns fart rainbows across the sky.
- The chin dimple makes his full lips seem manly and rugged, even with the glitter still stuck in there, and his eyes are crinkling like he’s hiding a sense of humor in his blackened soul.
- “We have absolutely nothing in common.” “We both know where to hit Ares to make him cry like a baby.” “We have nothing healthy in common.”
- I crave him like an addict craves drugs, and I don’t want to quit. it’s not just my body that craves his touch, but also a part of my soul.
Click Here to buy Mist McHottie by Pippa Grant from Amazon.