~**~ Release Blitz for So, That Got Weird (So Far, So Good #1) by Amelia Kingston w/ Excerpt & Giveaway ~**~

Release Blitz for So, That Got Weird (So Far, So Good #1) by Amelia Kingston w/ Excerpt & Giveaway

**Amelia Kingston is joining us today with the release blitz of her release, SO THAT GOT WEIRD! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today!**

About So That Got Weird:

A painfully awkward love story.

Incomprehensibly awkward Elizabeth Wilde is desperate for love. Connection. Intimacy. After a lifetime of romantic failures, the twenty-one-year-old gamer realizes she needs help. Professional help. She needs…

A sex tutor.

The devastatingly hot jock Austin Jacobs is just the man for the job. As the reigning campus sex god, he has the playboy act down pat. But underneath those six-pack abs beats a broken heart. He doesn’t trust people and he sure as hell doesn’t believe in love.

The odd couple strike a deal. Four weeks of ‘tutoring’ for five thousand dollars.

When Austin coaxes Elizabeth out from behind her computer screen, the attraction they feel is undeniable. They’re both a little broken, but somehow their jagged edges fit. And when their world comes tumbling down on top of them, they each have to decide if this weird thing called love is worth fighting for.

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Exclusive Excerpt:

I change the subject, asking, “What’s your major?” “Pre-med.” Her eyes practically sparkle with her response. “You want to be a doctor?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice, unable to picture her bedside manner. “Technically, I guess. But I am really looking at going into medical research.” She answers my question without me having to ask it. “Why medical research?” She balks at the question, picking imaginary lint off her T-shirt instead of answering me. I sit quietly and stare at her until she finally answers with, “I’ve just always thought biology was interesting.” I give her a go-on gesture and she meekly continues. “Humans are basically insanely complex machines that took hundreds of thousands of years of evolution to create. We’re just starting to understand that even though we are these complicated and sophisticated organisms, we’re all still so fragile and flawed.” She stares as her hands in her lap, embarrassed by her own enthusiasm. “That's almost poetic.” She shifts in her seat and says, “It’s really lame, I know. I’m such a nerd, right? “Don’t do that.” Her eyes snap to mine at the reprimand. “Don’t belittle yourself or what you care about. The world is going to beat you down enough, you don’t need to help it out. If you believe something, own it. Fuck everybody else.” She blinks several times, like she’s holding back tears, gazing at me like I saved a litter of puppies from a burning building. Now it’s my turn to shift awkwardly in my seat. I’m no one’s hero. I change the subject, “I just want to make money. Lots of it.” “There’s a lot more to life than money.” “Spoken like someone who has a lot of it,” I scoff. “Exactly how rich are you, anyway?” “I'm not rich.” She sounds almost offended. “I mean, my father has money, but—” I interrupt her. “Same difference. You have lots of brothers and sisters?” “No. It’s just me.” Her face goes squishy, eyebrows pinched together, lips scrunched to one side. Her eyes dart up and left, like she’s trying to see inside her own mind. She’s working out what I’m getting at. It’s hideously captivating. “You’re the only child of a rich man. I bet if you decided tomorrow you never wanted to work another day in your life you wouldn't have to.” She seems lost in thought. I can’t help but wonder if she's actually adding up her net worth in her head. “It never occurred to me not to work. That's just what people do. But I guess you’re right. If I didn't want to, I wouldn’t have to work.” She isn’t bragging. If anything, she seems a bit self-conscious about being wealthy, like she thinks it will make me see her differently. I’m surprised by her honesty. “Yep, hate to break it to you, sweetheart. But you're rich,” I confirm with a laugh. “I've never really thought about it,” she says softly, almost to herself. It sounds like it’s a revelation to her. She's so naïve. She’s never really experienced life, the good or the bad. She lives a sheltered beige existence, never knowing the brilliant shine of intense pleasure or the dark grunge of true suffering. She’s only tasted a fraction of what the world has to offer. Her unassuming innocence is intriguing. “About money? People who have lots of it rarely do.” I don’t mean it to be an accusation, but that's how she takes it. “It’s not like I’m taking my private jet to our family's island in the Bahamas.” Her definition of being rich is enough to make me laugh. She's rich because she'll never have to work to eat. “Maybe not. But you had five thousand dollars you seemed to be able to part with quite easily.” It comes out harsher than I meant it to be. I'm frustrated she doesn’t understand what it’s like for people with nothing. People like me.

About Amelia Kingston:

Amelia Kingston is many things, the most interesting of which are probably California girl, writer, traveler, and dog mom. She survives on chocolate, coffee, wine, and sarcasm. Not necessarily in that order. She’s been blessed with a patient husband who’s embraced her nomad ways and traveled with her to over 30 countries across 5 continents (I’m coming for you next, Antarctica!). She’s also been cursed with an impatient (although admittedly adorable) terrier who pouts when her dinner is 5 minutes late. She writes about strong, stubborn, flawed women and the men who can't help but love them. Her irreverent books aim to be silly and fun with the occasional storm cloud to remind us to appreciate the sunny days. As a hopeless romantic, her favorite stories are the ones that remind us all that while love is rarely perfect, it’s always worth chasing.