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*Release Blitz* Our Finest Hour (The Time Series Book One) by Jennifer Millikin

Our Finest Hour (The Time Series Book One)
Jennifer Millikin

Contemporary Romance

I believe
in choice, not fate.
I chose
to nurse a broken heart at the kitschy country bar that night.
I chose
to let Isaac Cordova buy me a drink.
I chose
to spend one hour with a near stranger in an attempt to soothe my pain.
No last
names, no details about our lives, just one hour where I was allowed to forget,
and then we would never see each other again.
But was
it a choice when I ran into him five years later?
I needed
help, and he was the only person equipped to give it.
instant attraction doesn’t feel like much of a choice either, but it doesn’t
has changed.
Now my
choices impact other people.
And what
will I choose?
Do I keep
Isaac out?
Do I dare
to let him in?

★★★ Signed
celebration of the release of Our Finest Hour, Jennifer Millikin is giving away
not one, but TWO signed paperback copies!!
on the link to #Enter:

His hand
creeps across the seat and grabs mine, fingers intertwining. He has strong,
long fingers.
thick, tan hands that look capable. Since when are hands this interesting?
Somehow Isaac’s are. “I’m leaving the country in a few days.” He says it so
suddenly that I jump a tiny bit. “It’s a long trip. I can extend it and stay
longer if I…” He trails off, surveying me. “Sorry. More than you need to be
told. I just wanted you to know I’m leaving, before this goes any further.” “I’m
OK with that,” I say. It’s a good thing, actually. Cut and dry is what I need.
He nods,
scraping his free hand across his chin. “I hope you don’t mind that my place is
mostly packed up. All my stuff is going into storage.”
“I’m OK
with that, too.” The cab comes to a stop in front of a row of brightly lit
storefronts. Isaac drops my hand and removes his wallet, swiping his credit
card through the machine on the back of the drivers seat. He steps out and I
open my door. I’m halfway out when Isaac round the back end of the cab. Making
a face, he hustles to grab the open door. “You should of let me get your door,”
he chides. “That’s what people do when they’re on dates.”
I step
onto the sidewalk. “We’re not on a date.”
“True. If
we were on a date, I would’ve picked you up at your house, not at a bar.” He
steps closer to me.
“Oh yeah?”
My eyebrows raise. “What else would you have done differently?”
brought you flowers.” His hand extends across the short distance between our
chests. I take his pretend flowers. “I don’t understand why guys give girls
flowers. They are literally dying plants wrapped in tissue paper.”
laughs and takes another step, closing most of the space between us, and his
arm cradles my lower back. “So you’re saying you’re a romantic?”
disbelieving sound bubbles up from the back of my throat. “Hardly.”
He pulls
me in closer until we’re pressed up against each other. My hands fall on his
upper arms, and my furious heartbeats pound a loud rhythm in my chest. “If I
kissed you now, in front of all these people, would you think it was romantic?”
He’s so
close I can almost feel his words hit my lips. Confused, I lean my head back
and look to the rain slickened street, where I see nothing but the red and
yellow lights of cars driving past. I look the other direction and see what he’s
talking about. Behind us, there’s a packed ice cream shop, tables full, and
here we are standing in front of the long window.
My eyes
sweep over all the interested gazes, and my cheeks catch fire. “Romantic?”
Isaac asks when I look back at him. “Yes,” I breath the word.
His mouth
is on mine before I finish my breath. He pushes me back, past the window, and
up against the brick wall that separates the ice cream place from its neighbor.
His hands are in my hair, running down my neck, tracing my collarbone. My fingers
skim the muscles in his upper back, cling to his shoulders. I’m feeling things,
good things, but my nerves are back, pushing into the rational part of my
brain, trying to make a stronghold before I’m swept away by hormones.
Is this a
bad idea?
Am I going
to get hurt?
kissing him, but I’m hesitant, and I wonder if he can sense it. Isaac puts one
hand on the back of my head, protecting it from the wall. Sensation takes over,
and I feel his desire. It’s hot like a flame, thirsty like a parched throat. I
ache for him in a way I never expected and never wanted.
“I’m not
in the mood for ice cream anymore,” I whisper, then pull his lower lip into my
mouth and suck on it. He moans into my mouth and pulls back to look at me
before diving back in. His kisses are hot and wet and his hand keeps sliding up
my stomach and then back down to my waist, like he’s reminding himself where we
are. I’m glad he still has some sense because I have almost none right now.
Isaac pulls away, a new smile on his face. This one is lustful, a half curl of
one side of his mouth.
My breath
is long and loud, dragging, and it clears my mind a tiny bit. “Is this a bad
idea? Isaac stares at me. With his back to the streetlamp, I can’t see into his
eyes. I wish I could, but his eyes are so dark it probably doesn’t matter. I
just want to look into them, to see if he’s doubting this like I am. He takes
my hands and squeezes them. 
“I could
use some comfort tonight, and I think you could too. Let’s make a deal. One
hour. We’ll give one hour to each other. When one hour is up, you can tell me
if you want me to come to your door sometime with something other than flowers.
How does that sound?”
“Have you
forgotten you’re leaving the country on a long trip?” He shakes his head
slowly. “I don’t have to extend my travel, and by the time I get back you’ll be
over the guy who broke your heart.”
I purse
my lips and look at him. Knowing he’s leaving makes this decision as safe for
my heart as possible. Our ending has already been decided. It’s one hour, for
one night, and then it’s over. My hand wraps around his neck, pulling him in.
When my lips are at his ear, I whisper, “I hope your place is close.”
vibration of his groan grinds against my cheek. He surges forward, pulling me
along behind him. Our pace is quick until he stops abruptly and looks back at
me. This time the streetlight illuminates his face, and I can clearly see into
his eyes. They look hungry.
don’t know if one hour with you will be enough for me Aubrey.” He turns back
around and keeps going.
I follow
his quick footsteps, fully in the knowledge that one hour is all I have to
offer him. This isn’t about love. I have none to give. This isn’t about my
heart. It’s not whole enough to break. This is about one hour of forgetting,
one hour of letting my body rule while my mind shuts off.
I’m going
to spend one hour with this man.
And then
I’m never going to see him again.

Jennifer Millikin is a contemporary fiction
author who wants her stories to make readers feel something passionate- love,
agony, maybe even hate. She is the author of Full of Fire and The Day He Went
Away. Our Finest Hour, her third effort will be published on October 12th,

Jennifer lives in Scottsdale, Arizona and can be
found chasing around her two young kids, retrieving crayons from the mouth of
her lab puppy, and roping rattlesnakes (just kidding. Or…?). 

She loves hearing from readers, so reach

For a free copy of Full of Fury: A Full of Fire
novella, visit *Only available on her website* 


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