Series: Slater Brothers
Author: L.A. Casey
Genre: Contemporary, Romance, New Adult, Romantic Comedy
What Damien values…
…Damien fights for.
Alannah Ryan had always suffered in silence, until that silence became so deafening she spilled secrets that she never intended to. At one point in her life, she yearned for adventure, a nail biting journey … something other than the mundane life she led. Her pleas were answered in the form of a tall, handsome heart breaker with a mop of white hair.
Alannah’s dreams for an exciting twist in her life were shattered because of a teenage mistake. One that has haunted her for over five years, and left her in pieces.
Damien Slater was the reason for every bad thing in the lives of those he loved most. A decision he made when he was just fifteen destroyed his brothers’ lives, and there was nothing he could do to change the things they had endured. Ruining them hurt, but ruining the only woman who wanted him for more than one night hurt a hell of a lot more.
Running away helped Damien heal, and returning to Ireland only caused Alannah more pain. Pain he intended to eradicate and replace with the passion he knew they both shared. Breaking down her walls was not the only challenge Damien faced. Another had plans of his own, and his intentions weren’t for physical vengeance, but something far worse.
Damien values Alannah above all else, and what Damien values, Damien fights for.
“Little bastard,” Alec said, breaking the silence.
Everyone looked at him.
“What?” Damien asked.
“You’re a little bastard,” Alec repeated.
Damien looked at Dominic, then back to Alec and said, “Not understanding why I’m a bastard.”
Damien’s lips twitched at Alec’s correction.
“Sorry, I don’t understand why you’re calling me a little bastard.”
Alec scowled. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“No,” everyone said in unison.
“Unbelievable,” Alec said with a shake of his head. “You’re a little bastard because you bought the woman a star. A fucking star. How the hell can we compete with that?”
The question was put to Kane.
“Buy your girl two stars?” he suggested.
Alec scoffed. “It wouldn’t be impressive since buying a star has been already been done by the little bastard.”
“You could buy me a black hole,” Keela suggested. “I get sucked into one whenever you start talkin’ so it’d be perfect.”
L.A. Casey is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who juggles her time with her mini-me and writing. She was born, raised and currently resides in Dublin, Ireland. She enjoys chatting with her readers, who love her humor and Irish accent as much as her books.
Casey’s first book Dominic, was independently published in 2014 and became an instant success on Amazon. She is both traditionally and independently published and is represented by Mark Gottlieb from Trident Media Group.
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Title: Where There’s Smoke
Author: Kathy Coopmans
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Rockstar Romance
Don’t miss Where There’s Smoke, an emotional Rockstar Contemporary Romance from Kathy Coopmans!
The lives of Dean Wagner and Tatum Fields have been ruled by the hand of fate.
The past six years of my life have been consumed by guilt. Since we lost Landon to a fire, I’ve done everything in my power to protect my daughter, Leila, from finding out the truth about how her twin brother died. Nothing in my life means more to me than her.
Not my band, not my reputation. Nothing.
Until I see Tatum, the woman I saved on the beach the same night she dealt with a loss of her own.
The daily routine I’ve settled into is what keeps me going. Work at my chocolate shop, pay the bills, repeat. I don’t date. I don’t trust. And I have never forgotten the man who walked away from saving my life without allowing me to thank him.
I know how to reach him, but I avoid him at all costs.
Until fate decides to make another appearance.
This is a story of how destiny ends up bringing these two souls back together, and how fate, the word very little people believe in is really their friend, after all.
Read for FREE on Kindle Unlimited
Five years ago
As I gaze across the endless dark water of the ocean, the fiery sun begins to set. Waves lap against the shoreline creating an intricate pattern along the smooth sand, and as I lift my face to the half-lit sky, I try to listen for the voice that assures me he’s doing okay.
I can hear his laughter against the waves as they crash against the shore. I can feel the warmth of his tiny hand touching the side of my worn face, and I can smell the sting of the saltwater; it burns and reminds me of a time in my life I never want to forget. I love this peaceful beach, but it’s what I see when I come here that makes the guilt leave a trail of hot fire up my flesh.
I remember his young life as if it were yesterday, a little boy laughing along with his twin sister as they buried me in the sand. Two little toothless kids filled with excitement, bright-colored ribbons trailing behind them as they took off running with kites in one hand while holding hands with the other.
My kids were like night and day, but they had as much love for this beach as they did for each other. Landon always the protector and Leila the one he thought needed his protection. He stood up for her even when she stood up for herself. Which was daily with her being below average in both weight and height. She grew out of it, and eventually the kids who teased her did, too. Landon, though, he watched his sister like a hawk. I’ve never seen two kids glued to each other as those two were. And visualizing how they’d be if he were here is buried under the poisonous guilt spilled all over my dark and secluded mind.
With a heavy sigh that stabs my chest, I observe the familiar beach. There are a handful of people sitting around. Soon, families will fill this place up. Dads will be helping their children show off their colorful kites the same way I used to with mine, and the annual week-long kite fest will be underway, and not a single one of them will know I’ve been here.
Today, it’s just the way I like it. Quiet and peaceful. Still, I’d give everything I have not to be sitting here wondering where in my life I went wrong.
I come to this spot where I vacationed with my kids on the coast of the state of Washington several times a year. It was my son’s favorite vacation spot. The place where my daughter, Leila, and I watched the urn holding his ashes float until it slowly sunk to the bottom of the deep blue water, and now parts of him are scattered everywhere. It’s the way he would have wanted to be.
My boy has been gone one year today, and this place is where I feel closest to him. It could be the memories of a little boy who would throw a fit when it was time to leave are vivid here, could be because here is where I said my final good-bye. I’m not really sure why; all I know is, I feel his spirit soaring when I sit here. It’s the one place that brings me as close to him as I will ever be again.
Landon loved kites; he loved anything with the vibrancy to soar. He was a free-spirited teenager, a good kid who, despite his mother being a junkie and me fighting my own demons of a tortured past through living with an uncle who damaged me more than the abandonment from the woman who gave birth to me did, was tougher, stronger. And unlike his sister, he was determined to find the mother he once knew. At least that’s what he told me, and at first, I believed him; until he started showing signs I recognized all too well.
He was fourteen when I started missing concerts or taking him with me because I thought he was high. I refused to let him see his mother until I could test his blood and his piss. He was squeaky clean. We fought practically every day over my suspicion. Me in his face wanting to know how he hid it every day he denied it, and the parent part of me that believed my son wouldn’t do drugs because of the downhill battle his mother struggled with eventually won. I believed him until that knock came at my door. Several police officers and CPS standing on the other side to give me news no parent should ever have to receive.
I shake those thoughts away. Today isn’t the day to let anger twine its way around my chest and choke me. Except it does. It swirls and mocks, drops seeds of guilt in my veins, and they spread. A disease I’ll never be rid of.
“Damn, I miss you, kid.” There hasn’t been a day gone by that I haven’t thought about him. Wondering what kind of man he’d be growing up to be. If he would have kept up with his love for playing the drums like me, or if he would have chosen a different path to spread his wings and fly.
When I lost Landon, my world collapsed. Shadows took over the light, and the pain has left a constant ache in my chest. It goes on and on like the rippled waves across the sand.
And my mind; it calls out for me to come back to the man I once was. A continuous fight of trying to fit together who I used to be. It’s wrung me out and left me hanging to dry.
Losing a child is a loss I wouldn’t know how to begin to explain. There will always be a hole in my soul that will never again be completely filled, and I’m a resentful man because of it. Losing him stole the man I was away from my daughter. It took me from my friends, and on behalf of the life I have yet to live, I haven’t a Goddamn clue how to get it back or if I even have the strength to try.
The kids’ mother and I were never together. Landon and Leila were created during a drunken night I don’t remember. I mean, I was nineteen, met some random chick at a party I was having. Fucked her and went on with my life. That is until she showed up to give me the news. And like most men, I denied it. Made her get a paternity test. Reality snuck in when the results came back saying they were mine, and they are without a doubt the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ll never accomplish anything greater than being their dad.
I press my hands to my temples. I can’t think of the way my kids came into this world. Not when what I did brought me the only two people I love unconditionally.
“Talk to me, Landon. I need to hear you and get these painful memories out of my head.”
Silence rings in my ears. Guilt claws at my throat. I usually find a sense of peace here, but for some fucked-up reason, all I can think about is what eventually took my son’s life.
Somewhere along the way, the kids’ mom, Kate, got hooked on prescription pills; those turned to weed, and it escalated to the heavy stuff from there. She was out of control and blamed everyone but herself. One day it was my fault because I wouldn’t have a thing to do with her; the next she complained the kids were too much for her to handle. She was a fucking wreck waiting to happen.
I tried getting her off the drugs. I paid for several trips to rehab, and then the day came where I took her to court. Won full custody of the kids and settled into a routine with a nanny to take care of them after I hooked up with Roman and with a stroke of luck we found Miles and Brock. Together we took ourselves to fame.
I wasn’t the perfect parent, but I made sure to fly home whenever we had a break from the tour. I flew the kids to me on the weekends they didn’t spend with their mother, and things were going fine up until Kate claimed she was pulling her life together and asked for more time with the kids. I called bullshit, and so did Leila. But Landon, he went to stay with her as often as he could. A kid set out to save a woman who didn’t want to be saved. And up until the day he died, I still felt that gnawing ache in my chest he was doing something.
The guilt ate me alive when the truth came out of how they were both killed.
“I should have made you go into rehab.” Then what? Would he have gotten out and started right back up like his mother did? “Fuck!” I scream, gaining the attention of a family walking the beach. I close my eyes, suck in a breath, and bow my head between my drawn-up knees.
My son was a drug addict like his mother. They were high the night they died. The forensics experts told me they were making meth and it blew up, caught the house on fire and killed them both.
“I fucking hate you for what you did to him. You were his mother, for fuck’s sake. Flesh and blood, and you dragged him to hell with you. Put our daughter through the worst nightmare she will have in her life.” Regardless of not ever allowing the anger to bubble to the surface whenever I come here, for some reason today it does.
My heart and brain become a game of tug of war—anger versus heartache—and I begin to shake. The tart taste in my mouth turns bitter, and every nerve ending dares to explode.
If she hadn’t died alongside my son, I would have killed her.
I glance around the beach that has been my solace and wish the sand would calm me down like it usually does. It doesn’t do a thing for some reason, except make me angrier. It’s a damn good thing Leila isn’t here to see me like this.
My blood rushes to my head, and my fists ball at my sides. I need to stop and find the man I once was again. Some kind of fucking calming of the soul is what I need. Something besides beating the hell out of my drums. Which I won’t be doing for a while now that we’re done recording our album and the band is taking some much-needed time off.
Every positive emotion I’ve tried to find is spread across the wide span of this ocean. I fake my way through the happy times with the happy disposition I’ve perfected. The problem I’m having now is, all the space inside of me is overflowing with negativity. I’m finding the bad in the good, and every day it’s becoming so much harder to ignore. The gap in my chest and the inner pain are almost too much to bear. It’s a lame and deadly excuse, but not even the rush of a cigarette calms me anymore, or watching Leila turn into the loving woman she was meant to be. My head is fucked up, and my guilt is slowly killing me.
“Damn it,” I grumble and turn my head when I see a woman frantically stripping out of her wedding dress at the shoreline. She tosses it into the water and crosses her arms over her chest. Her long black hair is blowing in the wind. “Christ, what the hell is she doing?”
I study her for a silent beat. There’s something about the way she’s gazing out into the ocean as she stands there in a white strapless bra and lace panties that grips me in the chest. I should pay more attention to her because despite whatever has her beaten down, she is absolutely exquisite. I wish I could hold on to the beautiful profile of her face, because it’s obvious she’s troubled over something, but the man standing several feet behind her in a black tuxedo spikes my anger. I dig my hands in the sand to stop me from standing up and walking toward him to knock him on his ass.
His tall frame is bent over with his hands on his knees as if he’s trying to catch his breath, and when he glances this way, every part of me begins to shake.
Sam Borst, a reporter for Hollywood Living. A young punk in his mid-twenties. I hate him nearly as much as I did Kate. The last thing I need is for him to see me and pop his mouth off. The guy is the biggest gossip talker this side of the Mississippi. Gives his opinions freely and exploits celebrities with misguided information. The fucking world eats out of the palm of his hands. He hosts a two-hour radio show where he asks their opinions, has them call in and stir the pot even more. Hollywood gossip. It all makes me fucking sick.
I’ve kept my personal life hidden since the day half of it was stolen from me, yet this man has never given up on trying to dig up the truth of why I buried my son.
The bastard didn’t come along and stick a thorn in my side when he first started talking about their deaths; he stuck a Goddamn knife in me, twisted it, and left it there when he opened a forum on their website for opinions on how the public thought it all went down. Our publicist told me to let it go when all I wanted was to kick his teeth in.
He didn’t give two fucks I was mourning and at the same time trying to bring my daughter back to life. For months, all I did was make sure she was going to be alright. I might have been slowly dying every day, pretending I was strong, but I had a responsibility much larger than taking care of myself, and that was her. So, I let him rattle off and ignored the prick the best I could until the rest of the paparazzi started coming around, digging for the one piece of dirt they they will never find.
I beat the shit out that motherfucker six months ago. Broke his nose, fucked up his jaw, and spent a solid thirty days behind bars. The worst part of it was, I lost my temper in front of my daughter.
It was hard as hell trying to explain to Leila that she had to stay with one of the guys while I sat in the hole wishing I had let it go like I was told. She ended up staying with Miles because his apartment was closer to her high school.
At the time, I was thankful Leila didn’t watch the news or listen to gossip, so, at first, she had no idea what the hell was going on. It drained me to make up some lame-ass excuse as to why I fucked him up and to make sure she stayed away from anyone with a camera or microphone, and to this day, she’s the only one close to me who doesn’t know the truth about Landon. But I’d bet my ass this fucker here would plow her over if he knew death wouldn’t come to him the minute I found out he talked to her. Protecting Leila is the reason why everyone close to me took a vow to keep quiet and stay away from the paparazzi.
I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my daughter from people like him, and when I say that, I mean it with a vengeance that would cause the earth to shift.
The vindictive assholes who stalk us would sell their soul to the devil for a good story, and the truth behind my son’s death would have every one of them lining up to see which one the devil would take first if word got out. My bet would be on him.
It was bad enough she watched her mother whittle away, but to have her think poorly of her brother or blame herself because she didn’t see the signs would kill me. Leila loved Landon more than she loved anyone, anyone, and I need to keep her heart from tainting his memory.
I pull my ball cap lower over my head and exhale. Pisses me off that my time with my son was already ruined by my anger, and now it’s doubled that he’s here.
I’m up on my feet when the woman catches my eye again as she starts walking into the water, the waves coming up to her knees, her waist, and then her neck. “Shit, she’s going to drown.”
“Damn it, Tatum, you’re my fiancée. Let me help you. Stop!” Sam’s voice that reeks of panic and fear loops around my feet. I start running toward the freezing water.
I couldn’t save my child, but I’ll do whatever it takes to save her.
USA Today Best Selling Author Kathy Coopmans is a Michigan native where she lives with her husband, Tony. They have two son’s Aaron and Shane.
She is a sports nut. Her favorite sports include NASCAR, Baseball, and Football.
She has recently retired from her day job to become a full-time writer.
She has always been an avid reader and at the young age of 50 decided she wanted to write. She claims she can do several things at once and still stay on task. Her favorite quote is “I got this.”
Title: Charming Fiona
Author: Jessica Prince
Genre: Seductive Romantic Comedy
As I child, I believed in true love and fairytales. I convinced myself that there was one special man out there, made just for me. All I had to do was wait, and one day he would appear. Then I grew up and discovered the ugly truth.
Disney movies were full of crap.
Relationships took work. People made mistakes. And sometimes, you didn’t see what was standing right in front of you until it was too late.
Deacon Lockhart was my best friend. And then I lost him. But now I finally have a chance to make things right, and this time I refuse to screw it up. With every smoldering look and wicked word, he charms the hell out of me… and I’m pretty sure I’ll never get enough.
Read for FREE on Kindle Unlimited
I hated grocery stores. Like seriously hated them to the point that all that was in my fridge was a box of baking soda, half a case of soda, and something that might have been cheese at one time, but I wasn’t a hundred percent certain on that.
Funny thing was, I used to love cooking, and I was damn good at it. But there was nothing enjoyable about cooking for one. I always ended up with leftovers that sat in my fridge until they inevitably spoiled. So I eventually moved to takeout or those sad meals for one you found in the freezer section. Thus began my disdain for the grocery store.
However, in my infinite wisdom, I’d decided that, since I was about to step back into the dating world, maybe it was time to implement changes in every aspect of my life. If I was going to get back on the horse again, so to speak, and start dating, then I figured why not just revamp everything?
I was going to be a whole new Fiona, one who stopped stress-eating snack cakes to fill the hole of loneliness inside of me. I was also going to implement a healthier diet and start working out.
It all sounded good, in hindsight. Then I signed up for one of those early-morning boot camps. I didn’t even last half a session. I kind of lost my shit when the instructor yelled “give me five more!” while we were doing these god-awful things called burpees—an invention of the Devil, right along with bras and pantyhose. I’d done three and was already dying, so I told him to take his five more and shove them right up his clenched ass.
I got kicked out.
Then I tried Pilates and woke up the next day feeling like I’d pulled every muscle in my body. My third attempt at exercise was yoga. Thankfully that hadn’t been so bad. I’d already gone three times and was actually starting to feel a little more zen. Sure, it probably wouldn’t help with the little food baby I’d developed since Deacon started dating Leah and I’d decided to eat my feelings, but it kept me off the couch and away from the brain-rotting reality TV I’d started to become obsessed with.
And bonus: the instructor was hot. Granted, he was a vegan hippy who wore Birkenstocks and reeked like patchouli, so not my type at all, but the smell wasn’t too over powering if I sat in the second row, and it provided me with nice weekly eye candy.
With dating on my horizon and fitness checked off my list, it was time to start the clean-eating portion of my New Fiona plan. Hence the trip to the supermarket after yoga.
I stood in the health food aisle, glaring down at the bag of kale chips in my hand like it had just insulted my mother. Little Debbie had just come out with their holiday cakes in the shape of Christmas trees, and they tasted a million times better than stupid kale chips.
My lip curled in disgust as I tossed the bag back onto the shelf. Maybe it would be best for me to start out slow, like a salad for one meal a day for a few months before expanding on that. I turned and started pushing my cart out of the aisle of tasteless, flavorless cardboard snacks only to come to a screeching halt at the sight of Deacon standing a few feet away.
“H-hi,” I stuttered. Seeing him made my belly erupt with a million butterflies.
“Christ,” he grunted in a deeply masculine, gravelly voice. “What the hell are you wearing?”
I looked down at my attire. Black yoga pants that hugged every inch they covered and a dark orange cami. I had a pale yellow jacket over my top, but it still clung to me from chest to waist, not that there was much to cling to. I was tall and thin, and while I had curves, they were nothing on par with Lola or my other friends. I had a happy handful of boobs and ass, but only just a handful.
I was covered from my neck all the way down to my feet, but the way Deacon was staring at me made me feel like I was standing in the center of the supermarket totally naked.
“Uh, yoga clothes? I just came from yoga.”
His eyes left a burning trail up my body before meeting my own. I barely caught the heat in his gaze before it was snuffed out by curiosity and a bit of bewilderment. “You do yoga?”
I wanted to be offended that he’d be so surprised by my doing anything even remotely active, but he’d known me all my life.
“It’s a new thing,” I said with a small shrug. “I decided I wanted to try and be healthier.”
His lips quirked up in a smirk as he scanned the items in my cart. “Really? And mini donuts and Fruity Pebbles are part of your diet plan?”
I glared defensively, cocking my hip and crossing my arms over my chest. “I also got whole grain bread and baby spinach.”
His smirk turned into a grin. “Oh, you’re right, sorry. Those totally cancel out the breakfast cereal that’s basically nothing but sugar.”
“I’ll have you know that cereal is perfectly healthy. It contains most of the basic food groups, and it’s not like I’ll eat the whole box in one sitting. And I’ll have a salad for dinner to balance it.”
He held up his hands in surrender and moved to the end of my cart, directly opposite me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense. I was just teasing.”
His big hands wrapped around the thin metal prongs, and I couldn’t help but notice how long and thick his fingers were. It made me think of something else of his that could possible be long and thick, and how badly I wanted to find out for myself.
Annnnd, I’m blushing again.
I smiled shyly. “It’s cool. I know you were. I think… well, I think we’re just finding our footing with each other again.”
Deacon’s face went soft, causing my insides to melt. “I’m thinking maybe you’re right. But we’ll get there.”
We’ll get there. At just those three simple words, the reality of just how badly I’d screwed up with Deacon hit me like a ton of bricks.
“Yeah,” I whispered, my heart lodged in my throat. “We will.”
We had to, because I’d been living a life without him in it for way too long.
After saying our goodbyes, I was left with a feeling of longing as I watched him walk away. Needless to say, I bought the damn Christmas tree snack cakes.
Two boxes of them.
The Girl Talk series is complete!
For those of you who love your romance with a little humor and a whole lot of steam, this series has everything you’re looking for.
Each story is an interconnected standalone, but you don’t need to read together to enjoy them all!
Read for FREE on Kindle Unlimited
Born and raised around Houston, Jessica is a self-proclaimed caffeine addict, connoisseur of inexpensive wine, and the worst driver in the state of Texas. In addition to being all of these things, she’s first and foremost a wife and mom.
Growing up, she shared her mom and grandmother’s love of reading. But where they leaned toward murder mysteries, Jessica was obsessed with all things romance. When
When she’s not nose deep in her next manuscript, or binging on sit-coms, you can usually find her with her kindle in hand.
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Title: Enticing Daphne
Author: Jessica Prince
Genre: Sassy Romantic Comedy
It’s easy to stop believing in happily ever afters when the man you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with abandons you right before your wedding day. After that disastrous event I decided that commitment was for suckers. I was young, successful, and in the prime of my life.
I didn’t need a man to make me happy.
Then an unexpected blast from the past came waltzing into my studio and decided I was a challenge he was more than willing to accept. The only problem is that he doesn’t remember he’s met me before.
He’s the ultimate playboy, determined to stop at nothing until he entices the hell out of me. But if Caleb McMannus thinks he can lure me in with his sinful looks and silver tongue, then he’s…probably right.
Google was quickly becoming the bane of my existence.
What had started as curiosity about Caleb McMannus had blossomed into a full-blown obsession. Once you Googled, there was no going back. I was disgusted with myself.
Not only because it seemed I’d banged a guy whose dick had already been in half the female population of the United States, but also because I couldn’t stop thinking about the stupid man-whore. It was a sickness. A gross, disappointing sickness that I’d spent weeks trying to cure myself of to no avail.
Each gossip column of his sexcapades, each picture of him in a compromising position—and there were many, all of them with a different woman—was cringe-worthy. But I couldn’t stop myself from searching them out.
What was worse, I couldn’t stop thinking about our night together. It had been the most intense, toe-curling experience of my life. And even though I pretty much hated him for forgetting about me, I wanted it again.
Damn my needy, traitorous vagina!
Born and raised around Houston Texas, Jessica spent most of her life complaining about the heat, humidity, and all around pain in the ass weather. It was only as an adult that she quickly realized the cost of living in Houston made up for not being able to breathe when she stepped outside. That’s why God created central air, after all.
Jessica is the mother of a perfect little boy–she refuses to accept that he inherited her attitude and sarcastic nature no matter what her husband says.
In addition to being a wife and mom, she’s also a wino, a coffee addict, and an avid lover of all types of books–romances still being her all time favs. Her husband likes to claim that reading is her obsession but she just says it’s a passion…there’s a difference. Not that she’d expect a boy to understand.
Jessica has been writing since she was a little girl, but thankfully grew out of drawing her own pictures for her stories before ever publishing her first book. Because an artist she is not.
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Talk British to Me, an all-new sexy STANDALONE romance from Robin Bielman is available now!!
Talk British to Me by Robin Bielman
Genre: Contemporary Romance
As the Dating Guy on L.A.’s top morning show, I give the single guy’s perspective on dating, love, and sex—and I give great advice. Everyone’s hooking up…well, except for me. Sure, I can get any woman I want, but I’ve got a “no relationship” clause in my contract and the only woman I want has “relationship” written all over her. Probably stamped on her ass, too. And wouldn’t I like to confirm that.
Unfortunately, she wants nothing to do with me. At all. Something about the next Ice Age might have even come up in her rebuttal. Adorable. Because she’s determined to ignore what one simple kiss proved: she wants me as badly as I want her.
Everything in me is screaming to go after her, but I’ve got a secret that I’m fairly certain will end up with her roasting my nuts over an open fire. So, job on the line? Check. Nuts on the line? Check. Can’t get her out of my head? Nail…meet coffin. But what a way to go…
I lean down to whisper in her ear. I can’t help it. I can tell from her body language that I make her nervous, and right now I’m a total cad, but I’m curious to see her reaction to my words. She did walk right into them. “Are you saying I make you wet, Teague?”
The trunk pops open, almost hitting her in the forehead when she balks at my question. She’s blushing, but her warm blue eyes hook me with sparks of anger. Several charged seconds pass before she speaks.
“Does it hurt? Being so full of yourself?” She turns to rummage through a small pile of clothes in her trunk. “News flash, stuck-up”—she glances at my attire, I’m guessing—“jock, you don’t make me feel anything. I’m sure there are plenty of girls in this town you can charm the panties off of with your attitude and voice, but I’m not one of them. So please do me a favor and keep your unsavory thoughts to yourself.”
Several things about what she just said hit me like a ton of goddamn bricks. That she called me a jock makes me grin. I’m wearing long athletic shorts with my collared shirt and running shoes.
She’s right about girls’ panties, but she’s the only girl to mention my voice. What would she think if I used my British accent on her? The station manager says she gets more calls about my accent than anything else.
And this bolder, more assertive, yet wholesome Teague is hot.
Don’t even get me started on her use of the word “unsavory.”
I am so fucked.
This isn’t a random chick anymore. She works for my mom. This sweet, beautiful, genuine, fascinating girl has a last name and knows my mother.
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When not attached to her laptop, USA Today Bestselling Author and RITA Finalist, Robin Bielman can almost always be found with her nose in a book. A California girl, the beach is her favorite place for fun and inspiration. Her fondness for swoon-worthy heroes who flirt and stumble upon the girl they can’t live without jumpstarts most of her story ideas.
She loves to go on adventures, and has skydived, scuba dived, parasailed, gotten lost in the wilderness (and only suffered a gazillion bug bites for it) hiked to waterfalls, and swam with dolphins. In her spare time she also likes to put her treadmill to good use while watching her favorite TV shows, take hikes with her hubby, indulge her sweet tooth, and play sock tug of war with her cute, but sometimes naughty dog, Harry.
She dreams of traveling to faraway places and loves to connect with readers. Keep in touch at all of her social media spots!
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