Frolic Exclusive: ‘Thinking About You’ by Monica Murphy Excerpt!

Thinking About You by Monica Murphy

We are so excited to share an exclusive excerpt from Monica Murphy’s upcoming novel Thinking About You coming out January 9th!

About Thinking About You:

One minute I’m minding my own business at a party and the next I meet this woman who blows my mind. She’s beautiful. Smart. Funny. A little shy. I’m immediately drawn to her. We make an instant connection.

The problem?

Lady Susanna Sumner lives in London. 

I live in California

I play professional football.

She works part-time at an art gallery and lives off her family’s money. 

Her family is nobility. I come from a single mom who always scraped to get by.

Susanna and I should have nothing in common. But when we’re together, it’s…


What are we supposed to do? Can we really make this work? I can’t give up my career. And I can’t ask her to move to California for me. All I know is, I want her in my life. 


Thinking About You Excerpt:

I can’t stop squeezing Cannon’s arm, silently marveling at how warm he is, how incredibly solid he feels beneath my palm. I remember when he swooped me under his arm before we entered the restaurant, how hot and firm his body felt pressed next to mine.

A shiver moves through me at the memory.

The car is silent, save for the quietly playing radio and the windshield wipers squeaking against the glass. The Uber driver doesn’t say a word, too busy concentrating on the busy street and the rain, and I’m suddenly filled with the need to…oh, I don’t know. Throw myself at this giant man and see if he’ll catch me?

He’d catch me. I can pretty much guarantee it.

“Think it’ll rain tomorrow during the game?” he asks, his deep voice interrupting the quiet.

“Doubtful.” Nervous laughter escapes me and I clamp my lips shut when I realize how ridiculous I sound. “It seems to rain almost every evening lately, and since your game is in the afternoon, you should be fine, just a little cloudy. Besides, most of the time the rain is really just mist from low-hanging clouds. It’s always so dreary here, especially this time of year.”

“Kind of like San Francisco,” he muses.

“I hear it can get quite foggy there.” I release my hold on him and settle more comfortably in my seat, hyper aware of Cannon sitting next to me. So close, yet not quite touching. His body heat radiates, tempting me to snuggle closer, but I keep myself firmly planted.

“So you have your own place, huh?” he asks.

He seemed startled by my revelation, which in turn surprised me. I guess he thought I still lived at home? I moved out at the ripe age of nineteen, unable to take it anymore at my parents’ grand country estate. It’s a beautiful place, don’t get me wrong, and I have such fond memories of my childhood, but when you’re in your late teens yearning to break free and make it in the big city, well, you…

Get the hell away from that grand country estate and move yourself into a tiny, leaky flat in London.

“It’s nothing special,” I tell him with a wave of my hand. “It’s very small. And you have to climb four flights of stairs to get to my front door.”

“Not a problem. I’m a guy who loves a challenge.” He grins, his teeth extra white in the dim light of the car. “I can handle a couple of flights of stairs.”

“Hoping to see my flat, hmm?” I’m teasing him, but…is he really hoping to see where I live?

Excitement makes my blood heat, and I mentally tell myself to calm down. There won’t be a chance for him to see my flat. He’s leaving soon. Perhaps we’ll indulge in some…




My blood runs hotter at the thought of his hands on my body. Am I being too hopeful?

“Sure,” he says easily, and that ease, the hopeful look on his handsome face, almost feels false.

Or maybe that’s my own self-doubt creeping in.

We arrive at Cannon’s hotel in a matter of minutes, and next thing I know he’s leaping out of the car, rounding the back of it to hold my door open. He takes my hand and helps me out, pulling me close and leading me into the hotel with my hand still clasped in his. The very hand that is so large, mine practically disappears.

The man is massive. I can’t imagine what he might look like without a stitch of clothing on.

A shiver moves through me. Then again, I might like to imagine Cannon naked. I’m sure he’s incredibly muscular, not an ounce of fat on him, while I’m a little more on the large-breasted and curvy-bottomed side of things. I can look sleek and refined when I need to, but that’s only because I’m strapped into the most confining bra known to woman.

Wait a minute. My brain takes off in that direction. Yes, we just might—mess around, and my undergarments aren’t very sexy.

Like at all.

“Why are you frowning? Having second thoughts?”

Cannon’s concerned voice pulls me from my brain, and I shake my head, smiling up at him as we head toward the bar on the other side of the hotel’s expansive lobby. “No. Of course not.”

He studies me for a moment, his gaze razor sharp. “Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?”

“I would never lie to you,” I tell him sincerely, which is the truth. I’m not a liar. I never have been. Some people tell me I’m honest almost to a fault.

“Then you’re fibbing. You’re trying to cover up something.” He comes to a halt in front of the mostly empty, open front bar, causing me to stop walking as well. “I know what’s wrong.”

“You do?” My voice is hollow, and I clear my throat, reminding myself to look and seem positive. Confident.

“You’re nervous.”

I sigh, my shoulders slumping. All pretense of confidence floats away. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah, but don’t take that as an insult. I’m guessing you don’t usually do this sort of thing.” When I don’t speak, he continues, “Like hang out in hotel bars with random foreign dudes.”

“Foreign dudes?” I start to laugh. “No, I don’t usually do this sort of thing.”

More like I’ve never done this sort of thing. Not with a man I’ve met at a club, or on a blind date, and especially never while I was in school.

He takes a step closer, so close his chest is almost pressed to mine. I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. “If you don’t want to do this, I can arrange for a car to take you home.” When I say nothing, he carries on. “I don’t want you uncomfortable.”

My heart melts. He is the sweetest. “Let’s go have a drink,” I say as I reach for both of his hands and hold them in mine.

His gaze never wavers. “Are you sure?”

My brows shoot up. “Are you trying to convince me to leave?”

His answer is swift, his smile…adorable. “Hell no.”

“Buy me a drink then.” I return his smile, and without warning, he leans down, brushing his mouth against mine so quickly, I could almost imagine the kiss didn’t happen.

But it did. And the touch of his soft, warm lips on mine sends a shockwave throughout my whole body, all the way to my toes.


Excerpt from Thinking About You by Monica Murphy

Thinking About You is available for preorder (out January 9th) at:

Amazon | Apple Books | B&N | Kobo

Add Thinking About You to your Goodreads shelf


Enjoyed this post?

Frolic F Logo



Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

About The Author

Good in Bed by Jennifer Weiner

January’s Goddess: Cannie Shapiro of Good in Bed by Jennifer Weiner

Frolic Presents: ’A Holiday By Any Other Name’ Chapter Four by Jude Sierra

Add to Collection

No Collections

Here you'll find all collections you've created before.

Scroll to Top
Scroll to Top