Erin Nicholas's Blog - Posts Tagged "boys-of-the-bayou-gone-wild"
Totally...I mean, OTTERLY...Irresistible
He lifted a brow. “Are you going to actually be helpful now or not?”
She loved every single thing about this petting zoo.
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” she told him. “I’m definitely going to help.”
He sighed.
Feeling suddenly lighter and happier than she had in a long time—and that was saying something as she was generally light and happy, not to mention on her way to Paris soon—Charlie turned back to the animals.
“Okay, now that we know each other better, how about you all be sweet and head back to the barn?”
Not one animal even looked at her.
“Hey, Stan?” she called to the big goat. “You’re clearly a leader. How about you show me that you can do some good with all that staunch determination and lead everyone back to the barn?”
“You can’t be serious,” the guy said. “Talking to them isn’t going to work.”
“Talking is what I do.”
“No kidding.”
She just lifted a brow. “So what should I do instead?”
Maybe he could give her an opening for charming him into putting that very nice, smirky, sarcastic mouth against hers and…
“Nudge ’em,” he said simply.
Now she blinked at him. “What?”
“Nudge them,” he said again.
“Just… nudge them? As in, push them?” She narrowed her eyes. Were they talking about goats? Or were they maybe talking about grumpy farmers who needed more than a subtle flirtation to make a move?
“Sometimes that’s all they need.”
Okay then. She was going to keep that in mind.
“So…” He nodded toward the goats.
She blew out a breath. Okay, so for right now, they were talking about goats.
Charlie approached the smallest of the animals. He—or she—looked up at her. “Hello, I’m Charlotte. Would you please accompany me across the street back to your barn?” She heard the man’s snort even from a distance. That made her smile even though she was still stuck with the problem of herding goats.
The goat, of course, didn’t move a step.
“I would very much enjoy it if you would grant me the pleasure of your company across the street at your barn,” she told the goat.
This time the goat didn’t even lift his head.
Charlie propped a hand on her hip. “I don’t feel that we know each other well enough for me to actually put my hands on your body, so it really would be easier if you would just head in the general direction of your barn.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Suddenly the man was back beside her.
He bent and lifted the goat, and Charlie couldn’t help but think this had worked out very well.
She hadn’t had to touch the goats, but she hadn’t been entirely unhelpful to him.
Okay, that wasn’t true. She had been completely unhelpful to him. But she hadn’t left him out
here with the goats alone.
The man pivoted and pressed the goat to her chest. Instinctively her arms went up and around it. He let go.
And just like that, she had her arms full of goat.
Charlie gasped, partially in surprise and partially because it only took her a millisecond to think about the fact that she now had a barnyard animal up against her Alex Perry cocktail dress.
“You have to be kidding,” she said to the man.
“When nudging doesn’t work, sometimes you have to get hands-on.”
Charlie blew out a breath. She was tucking that away in her idea of how to handle him too. But she was preoccupied at the moment.
And not so sure she wanted to kiss him after all.
No, that wasn’t true. She still wanted to kiss him. Especially now that he was standing closer.
Even if she had to kiss him over the back of a goat.
Which probably meant she really wanted to kiss him.
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She loved every single thing about this petting zoo.
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” she told him. “I’m definitely going to help.”
He sighed.
Feeling suddenly lighter and happier than she had in a long time—and that was saying something as she was generally light and happy, not to mention on her way to Paris soon—Charlie turned back to the animals.
“Okay, now that we know each other better, how about you all be sweet and head back to the barn?”
Not one animal even looked at her.
“Hey, Stan?” she called to the big goat. “You’re clearly a leader. How about you show me that you can do some good with all that staunch determination and lead everyone back to the barn?”
“You can’t be serious,” the guy said. “Talking to them isn’t going to work.”
“Talking is what I do.”
“No kidding.”
She just lifted a brow. “So what should I do instead?”
Maybe he could give her an opening for charming him into putting that very nice, smirky, sarcastic mouth against hers and…
“Nudge ’em,” he said simply.
Now she blinked at him. “What?”
“Nudge them,” he said again.
“Just… nudge them? As in, push them?” She narrowed her eyes. Were they talking about goats? Or were they maybe talking about grumpy farmers who needed more than a subtle flirtation to make a move?
“Sometimes that’s all they need.”
Okay then. She was going to keep that in mind.
“So…” He nodded toward the goats.
She blew out a breath. Okay, so for right now, they were talking about goats.
Charlie approached the smallest of the animals. He—or she—looked up at her. “Hello, I’m Charlotte. Would you please accompany me across the street back to your barn?” She heard the man’s snort even from a distance. That made her smile even though she was still stuck with the problem of herding goats.
The goat, of course, didn’t move a step.
“I would very much enjoy it if you would grant me the pleasure of your company across the street at your barn,” she told the goat.
This time the goat didn’t even lift his head.
Charlie propped a hand on her hip. “I don’t feel that we know each other well enough for me to actually put my hands on your body, so it really would be easier if you would just head in the general direction of your barn.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Suddenly the man was back beside her.
He bent and lifted the goat, and Charlie couldn’t help but think this had worked out very well.
She hadn’t had to touch the goats, but she hadn’t been entirely unhelpful to him.
Okay, that wasn’t true. She had been completely unhelpful to him. But she hadn’t left him out
here with the goats alone.
The man pivoted and pressed the goat to her chest. Instinctively her arms went up and around it. He let go.
And just like that, she had her arms full of goat.
Charlie gasped, partially in surprise and partially because it only took her a millisecond to think about the fact that she now had a barnyard animal up against her Alex Perry cocktail dress.
“You have to be kidding,” she said to the man.
“When nudging doesn’t work, sometimes you have to get hands-on.”
Charlie blew out a breath. She was tucking that away in her idea of how to handle him too. But she was preoccupied at the moment.
And not so sure she wanted to kiss him after all.
No, that wasn’t true. She still wanted to kiss him. Especially now that he was standing closer.
Even if she had to kiss him over the back of a goat.
Which probably meant she really wanted to kiss him.
AVAILABLE APRIL 20th!
You can pre-order everywhere now at a special pre-release price!
Apple Books: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Apple
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Surely it was going to be a flash mob, right?
Otterly Irresistible
“You also can’t bring your friends with you when you’re stalking me,” the man said.
Charlie looked around. Had his stalker brought an entourage? Was it for a flash mob? Or for a kidnapping? Really, neither would’ve surprised her here in Autre. Which was one of the things she loved about this town. The definition of crazy was different here than anywhere else she’d ever been. And not exactly frowned upon.
She also wasn’t afraid to admit she was willing to stick around for a flash mob. Or a kidnapping. She would, of course, call for other people to come out if it turned out to be a kidnapping. Okay, or a flash mob. So it wasn’t as if the guy was actually going to end up stuffed in a trunk of a car. She was just waiting to see which of those scenarios she was dealing with.
“Don’t you think it’s time to go home?” the guy said to his stalker. “Come on. I’ll take you.”
Oh, good, he was a nice guy. Even if Sugar was harassing him, he was still willing to be sure she—or he—got home safely.
Dammit, did this mean Charlie needed to follow them? In case the kidnapping happened away from the bar? Or what if Sugar had a hatchet and duct tape waiting for the guy back at her place?
Or, maybe worse, what if Sugar waited to sing and dance for him in her living room? Charlie would miss the whole performance.
Now she was invested. She was going to have to follow them. Crap. She really wasn’t dressed for traipsing around in the dark. Or the light. Her Valentino Garavani Rockstud ankle-strap pumps were perfection. And not at all comfortable for any kind of distance walking.
But she really didn’t want to miss the flash mob.
Surely it was going to be a flash mob, right?
Or a striptease. At least.
Charlie decided if she were going to do a flash mob for a guy she stalked to a wedding, she’d choose Taylor Swift’s “Love Story”.
Obviously.
She was in town for her cousins’ weddings. Yes, plural. Three of her cousins had gotten married today, and she was now attending the reception held at her grandmother’s bar. Considering the guy was confronting Sugar just outside the back door of the bar, Charlie assumed he was a wedding guest as well.
The Landry family never did anything small, and that, apparently, included weddings. Of course, growing up in Shreveport, Charlie sometimes forgot the easy-going, laid-back ways of the bayou. Hence why she’d worn a pale pink strapless cocktail dress that hugged her breasts and waist and had an uneven hemline that nearly touched the ground in back to a wedding where the grooms wore blue jeans, and some of the guests were alligators. Literally.
She also had on Valentino heels, fake eyelashes, fake nails, and hair extensions.
Yeah, she might have overdone it.
And yes, some of her cousins had already given her shit about the fake fingernails.
Still, as much fun as the food, dancing, laughing, and one-upmanship was inside, she wasn’t above enjoying a little romantic drama outside on her way back from the bathroom.
“Come on, Sugar,” the man said. “Let’s get you home.”
Charlie literally had her fingers crossed for the first strains of Taylor Swift when she heard the stalker reply for the first time.
“Behhhh!”
Charlie jumped, then frowned. Okay, she hadn’t been expecting that.
She peered around the corner of the building.
There was a man sitting on the back step of her grandmother’s bar.
And he was surrounded by goats.
He was holding one goat’s face in his hands and was talking to it directly. The other goats seemed content to munch on the grass and weeds that grew along the edge of the gravel drive that led to the back of the bar. But this goat was, as far as Charlie could tell from six feet away in the dimming light of the evening, gazing at the man adoringly.
There were also two ducks and a potbellied pig. Most of them seemed unconcerned with what was going on, except for the one duck who was standing like a bodyguard next to the goat having the intense conversation with the man.
Surprisingly, none of that was the most startling thing about the scene in front of her.
No, that was the fact that the man on the step was the extremely good-looking man who Charlie had previously asked to dance at the wedding reception. And who had turned her down.
It wasn’t just that he’d turned her down, though without getting too full of herself, Charlie could admit she wasn’t all that used to men telling her no. It was also that she knew they had chemistry. She’d caught him watching her across the bar earlier in the evening, and when she had slid in next to him to order another drink, he hadn’t given her much space. Nor had he seemed annoyed with her taking up any of his space.
Still, he’d turned her down when she asked him to dance. Without an explanation. He hadn’t claimed a sprained ankle or being a terrible dancer or having a girlfriend. He didn’t have a ring on his left hand.
So yes, even before she saw him sitting on the back step with a goat—correction, nine goats, two ducks, and a potbellied pig—she had been wondering what the hell his deal was.
It was probably the not-being-used-to-being-told-no thing, but something made her walk around the corner of the building and say,
“So, does she think that’s a carrot in your pocket? Because it sounds like you’re not that happy to see her.”
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Audio coming soon!
“You also can’t bring your friends with you when you’re stalking me,” the man said.
Charlie looked around. Had his stalker brought an entourage? Was it for a flash mob? Or for a kidnapping? Really, neither would’ve surprised her here in Autre. Which was one of the things she loved about this town. The definition of crazy was different here than anywhere else she’d ever been. And not exactly frowned upon.
She also wasn’t afraid to admit she was willing to stick around for a flash mob. Or a kidnapping. She would, of course, call for other people to come out if it turned out to be a kidnapping. Okay, or a flash mob. So it wasn’t as if the guy was actually going to end up stuffed in a trunk of a car. She was just waiting to see which of those scenarios she was dealing with.
“Don’t you think it’s time to go home?” the guy said to his stalker. “Come on. I’ll take you.”
Oh, good, he was a nice guy. Even if Sugar was harassing him, he was still willing to be sure she—or he—got home safely.
Dammit, did this mean Charlie needed to follow them? In case the kidnapping happened away from the bar? Or what if Sugar had a hatchet and duct tape waiting for the guy back at her place?
Or, maybe worse, what if Sugar waited to sing and dance for him in her living room? Charlie would miss the whole performance.
Now she was invested. She was going to have to follow them. Crap. She really wasn’t dressed for traipsing around in the dark. Or the light. Her Valentino Garavani Rockstud ankle-strap pumps were perfection. And not at all comfortable for any kind of distance walking.
But she really didn’t want to miss the flash mob.
Surely it was going to be a flash mob, right?
Or a striptease. At least.
Charlie decided if she were going to do a flash mob for a guy she stalked to a wedding, she’d choose Taylor Swift’s “Love Story”.
Obviously.
She was in town for her cousins’ weddings. Yes, plural. Three of her cousins had gotten married today, and she was now attending the reception held at her grandmother’s bar. Considering the guy was confronting Sugar just outside the back door of the bar, Charlie assumed he was a wedding guest as well.
The Landry family never did anything small, and that, apparently, included weddings. Of course, growing up in Shreveport, Charlie sometimes forgot the easy-going, laid-back ways of the bayou. Hence why she’d worn a pale pink strapless cocktail dress that hugged her breasts and waist and had an uneven hemline that nearly touched the ground in back to a wedding where the grooms wore blue jeans, and some of the guests were alligators. Literally.
She also had on Valentino heels, fake eyelashes, fake nails, and hair extensions.
Yeah, she might have overdone it.
And yes, some of her cousins had already given her shit about the fake fingernails.
Still, as much fun as the food, dancing, laughing, and one-upmanship was inside, she wasn’t above enjoying a little romantic drama outside on her way back from the bathroom.
“Come on, Sugar,” the man said. “Let’s get you home.”
Charlie literally had her fingers crossed for the first strains of Taylor Swift when she heard the stalker reply for the first time.
“Behhhh!”
Charlie jumped, then frowned. Okay, she hadn’t been expecting that.
She peered around the corner of the building.
There was a man sitting on the back step of her grandmother’s bar.
And he was surrounded by goats.
He was holding one goat’s face in his hands and was talking to it directly. The other goats seemed content to munch on the grass and weeds that grew along the edge of the gravel drive that led to the back of the bar. But this goat was, as far as Charlie could tell from six feet away in the dimming light of the evening, gazing at the man adoringly.
There were also two ducks and a potbellied pig. Most of them seemed unconcerned with what was going on, except for the one duck who was standing like a bodyguard next to the goat having the intense conversation with the man.
Surprisingly, none of that was the most startling thing about the scene in front of her.
No, that was the fact that the man on the step was the extremely good-looking man who Charlie had previously asked to dance at the wedding reception. And who had turned her down.
It wasn’t just that he’d turned her down, though without getting too full of herself, Charlie could admit she wasn’t all that used to men telling her no. It was also that she knew they had chemistry. She’d caught him watching her across the bar earlier in the evening, and when she had slid in next to him to order another drink, he hadn’t given her much space. Nor had he seemed annoyed with her taking up any of his space.
Still, he’d turned her down when she asked him to dance. Without an explanation. He hadn’t claimed a sprained ankle or being a terrible dancer or having a girlfriend. He didn’t have a ring on his left hand.
So yes, even before she saw him sitting on the back step with a goat—correction, nine goats, two ducks, and a potbellied pig—she had been wondering what the hell his deal was.
It was probably the not-being-used-to-being-told-no thing, but something made her walk around the corner of the building and say,
“So, does she think that’s a carrot in your pocket? Because it sounds like you’re not that happy to see her.”
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Audio coming soon!
Heavy Petting ~ Sneak Peek!
“Jordan!” A male voice yelled through the door. He pounded again. “Jordan! It’s me, let me in.”
Jordan froze with shock.
That was Fletcher’s voice.
Immediately her eyes filled with tears.
“Jordan! Dammit! Let me in!”
She ran to the door, twisting the deadbolt, fumbling with the chain, and finally yanking it open.
Fletcher Landry was on the other side, his fist raised, ready to knock again.
He froze.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then she launched herself at him.
He caught her easily, his big arms wrapping around her. He stepped through the doorway with her, her feet dangling three inches off the floor. He kicked the door shut behind them and then just squeezed her.
There was nothing better in her life than Fletcher hugs. That had been true since she’d been six years old and had fallen on the playground at recess, scraping her knee, and he’d come over to check on her and hugged her. That was it. Fletcher Landry had been hugging her and making things better for the past twenty years and this moment was no different.
But, as she buried her face in his neck, she realized this was totally different.
He hadn’t had to come.
Things had been awkward between them for months. She’d cried the last time they’d been together. He’d asked her to choose between him and Jason.
And clearly, she’d made the wrong choice.
But still, he’d come. Now her best friend in the entire world and the person who could always make everything okay was here. As if by magic.
Of course, it wasn’t magic. Fletcher had, clearly, gotten on a plane immediately after finding out what happened and had flown to her.
He let go of her with one arm and reached behind him to re-lock the door and replace the chain. Then he walked to the sofa in the living room of the suite.
He sank down onto one of the cushions, taking her with him. He pulled her into his lap and continued to hug her tightly. Jordan curled into him, her arms around his neck. He was warm and solid and familiar.
So familiar.
They sat together on the couch, hugging, for several minutes.
Eventually, she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him.
He met her gaze, but didn’t say anything.
He didn’t really need to say anything.
“Thank you,” she told him. She didn’t need to say anything either, she knew, but she wanted to.
He just gave her a single nod.
She pulled back slightly studying him. His jaw was tight and though he was holding her and hugging her, his eyes were stormy.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He gave a soft snort. “I think that’s my line.”
She shook her head. “Well, obviously I’m not okay. I’ve never been more humiliated in my life. But you look…” She narrowed her eyes. “Really pissed.”
“Accurate.”
Yeah, that made sense. Fletcher wasn’t a huge fan of Jason’s. In spite of her best efforts and desires over the years, Jason and Fletcher had never been friends. They tolerated one another. Mostly because she insisted on it. But there was a tension between the two and always had been.
Jason had, at times, been jealous of Fletcher. At least in the beginning. When they were fifteen and had first started dating, everything about relationships had been new to both of them. Her being close to Fletcher had made Jason suspicious. But after some time, he’d realized that she and Fletcher truly were just best buddies.
It probably helped that Fletcher had been a playboy from a young age. He was a Landry and the Landry males were well known for being too charming for their own good. They all had more than their share of female attention and they all wallowed in it. Fletcher had been no exception. He’d dated extensively through high school and had been very familiar with back seats and lost panties long before Jason even got lucky with his longtime girlfriend.
For some reason, thinking about that now, she became acutely aware of the fact that she was in Fletcher’s lap.
She’d sat in Fletcher’s lap lots of times. Usually when there had been too many people packed into someone’s pickup heading down to the bayou for a bonfire.
Was that the safest situation? Of course not. Would they have been pulled over and ticketed by the cop if he’d seen them? Probably. But if they were ever short on seats, whether in the pickup or on someone’s couch for movie nights, she’d always plopped down on Fletcher. Sometimes not even just because they were short of seats. She’d sat on his lap and shared blankets around bonfires and ballgames a number of times.
But it had been a while.
And for some reason, at this moment, she was aware that he was bigger and harder than she remembered from past lap-sitting situations.
Of course he was. He was twenty-six now. This was definitely not the same body she’d cuddled up with in high school on the pontoon boat when the sun dropped and things got chilly on the bayou.
It wasn’t just him in general that was bigger and harder. There is a specific part of him pressing into her right butt cheek at the moment that definitely could be described as big and hard.
She wiggled.
His hand clamped down to keep her from moving. And that was when she became aware that one of his big, hot hands was resting on her hip.
Her mostly bare hip.
Because she was wearing the t-shirt she slept in and panties. And she hadn’t covered up to answer the door.
So now she was sitting on Fletcher’s lap, barely dressed, in a hotel suite, and he seemed very happy to see her.
“Fletch—”
“Ignore it.”
Yeah, he knew what she’d noticed. As always, they were on the same page without exchanging many words.
She shifted again, his grip tightened on her hip, and she was shocked to feel tingles dance across her skin.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“I’m ignoring the fact that you’re half-naked. You can ignore my reaction to it.”
It was completely stupid, and probably inappropriate, but Jordan snorted.
“Your ‘reaction’ would indicate that you’re not actually ignoring me being half-naked.”
Fletcher gave the soft chuckle and squeezed her hip again. Then he nudged her off his lap.
Jordan stood and gave him a smile. “You’ve seen me in less.”
They’d swum together many, many times. She’d worn bathing suits, bikinis, and they’d even skinny dipped a couple of times. Never just the two of them and, as far she knew, he’d never gotten a good look. But he’d probably seen a flash of her ass at least. And she’d gotten one really good full frontal view the summer after they’d graduated. It had been quick, right before he dove into the water, and she’d, of course, been completely caught up in Jason, but she’d understood what the girls of Autre and the surrounding area had been gushing about.
Fletcher stretched up from the couch and Jordan had to take a step back to give him space.
“Who’s saying that I didn’t have this ‘reaction’ then too?” he asked.
Jordan grinned. This relationship was so easy. They could talk about almost anything and there was very little filtering of language or topics. At least it had always been that way. She was incredibly relieved to think that was still true. They hadn’t really been “them” for a while, but now standing here, looking up at him, after two years of being physically apart and three and a half months of things being awkward and tense in phone calls and texts, she desperately needed them to be them again.
“Thanks for saying that,” she told him.
“Thanks for shaving your legs,” he returned. His eyes drop to her bare legs.
Again, he’d seen them many times in shorts, skirts, and bathing suits. But he’d also known her through many awkward growing-up stages. Like before she’d started shaving her legs. And after she started shaving her legs and hated it. She’d sometimes go a few days even in the summer when she was wearing shorts and he always gave her shit about it. To which she would always reply, “I’m only hanging out with you, it doesn’t matter.”
Right now, though, she was really glad she’d shaved her legs too.
“Get your stuff," Fletcher said.
“What?”
“I’m taking you home. Get your stuff.”
“Home?”
Fletcher blew out a breath. “Well, what else are you going to do?”
He had a point. But if she went home, she couldn’t not have the conversation with her mother that she didn’t want to have.
She was suddenly single. And homeless, since the apartment in Nashville was Jason’s. And even if she was going to get her own, she didn’t have a job—also thanks to Jason and her quitting her job to travel with him four months before he told her he was in love with someone else.
But she didn’t want it to be in Nashville anyway.
She’d clearly taken too long to respond, because Fletcher said, “You need to come home.”
“Sure, why not? Everyone already saw the most humiliating moment of my life, I might as well slink back home with my tail between my legs, jobless, boyfriend-less, pathetic, and miserable.”
It took Fletcher about three seconds to answer. “Yeah, you might as well.”
That was not going to make it into the pep talk Hall of Fame, but Jordan felt her mouth curving into a grin. “At least there’ll be moonshine and good coffee.” It seemed no one outside of Louisiana believed in chicory coffee, which was a true travesty. She paused. “I’m really glad you’re here."
His eyes flickered with emotion but he just gave her a little nod. “Of course I’m here.”
Of course he was here. She probably should’ve been expecting it.
“I just really —”
“Jordan,” Fletcher interrupted.
“Yeah?”
“You need to put some clothes on.”
She looked down at herself. Her shirt was a pale peach color and hit about three inches below the lower curve of her ass.
“But I shaved.”
Fletcher tucked his hands into his front pockets of his jeans and braced his feet apart. He nodded. “Yep. And I’m wondering just how much shaving you do.”
Her eyes widened in her mouth dropped open. She stared at him. There was very little off limits between her and Fletcher, but there were just some things they naturally steered away from. How much shaving she did was one of those things.
“I can’t believe you just said that to me.”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. Also that shirt is a little see-through when you’re standing in front of the window.”
She glanced behind her. The sun was coming in through the huge window. She looked back at him. “I—”
“And I can see your nipples.”
Again she felt her mouth dropped open. She was very rarely speechless around Fletcher. Then again, Fletcher very rarely talked about her nipples. In fact he had never talked about her nipples.
She crossed her arms over her chest instinctively. It seemed that her nipples liked being talked about because they were a little perkier than they had been a moment ago.
“Wow,” was her only response. Very eloquent.
Again, he just shrugged. “Thought we could always say anything to one another.”
“We…can…I just never…had you comment…my nipples before.” She couldn’t believe she was stumbling over her words with Fletcher.
“You sure?”
“Very.”
“Huh.” Fletcher seemed to be thinking about that. “Well, I’m sure I’ve noticed them before, so I must’ve been trying to be a gentleman by not commenting.”
“And you’re not feeling gentlemanly today?”
“Not especially.”
“And why is that?”
“It just you and me, Jordan. And you’re now single. Do I need to be a gentleman?”
She took a deep breath, studying him.
Fletcher seemed a little wound up. Not his usual laid-back, easy-going self. She realized he was worried about her. So no, he did not need to be a gentleman.
“Nope,” she said.
“Good. Now go get dressed.”
Or else what? She thought. But she didn’t say it out loud. She wasn’t going to taunt Fletcher about her near naked state and her nipples.
That was ridiculous. And inappropriate.
Probably. For some reason.
Why didn’t that feel inappropriate and ridiculous?
That was probably something she should think about later. But she was acutely aware now of her near-naked state and her nipples and getting that all covered up seem like a good idea.
“Be back in a bit,” she said, pivoting on her heel and heading for the bedroom. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath.
Coming May 25th!
PREORDER NOW!
Amazon: http://bit.ly/HeavyPetting-Amz
Apple Books: http://bit.ly/HeavyPetting-Apple
nook: http://bit.ly/HeavyPetting-nook
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Paperback and audio coming too!
Jordan froze with shock.
That was Fletcher’s voice.
Immediately her eyes filled with tears.
“Jordan! Dammit! Let me in!”
She ran to the door, twisting the deadbolt, fumbling with the chain, and finally yanking it open.
Fletcher Landry was on the other side, his fist raised, ready to knock again.
He froze.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then she launched herself at him.
He caught her easily, his big arms wrapping around her. He stepped through the doorway with her, her feet dangling three inches off the floor. He kicked the door shut behind them and then just squeezed her.
There was nothing better in her life than Fletcher hugs. That had been true since she’d been six years old and had fallen on the playground at recess, scraping her knee, and he’d come over to check on her and hugged her. That was it. Fletcher Landry had been hugging her and making things better for the past twenty years and this moment was no different.
But, as she buried her face in his neck, she realized this was totally different.
He hadn’t had to come.
Things had been awkward between them for months. She’d cried the last time they’d been together. He’d asked her to choose between him and Jason.
And clearly, she’d made the wrong choice.
But still, he’d come. Now her best friend in the entire world and the person who could always make everything okay was here. As if by magic.
Of course, it wasn’t magic. Fletcher had, clearly, gotten on a plane immediately after finding out what happened and had flown to her.
He let go of her with one arm and reached behind him to re-lock the door and replace the chain. Then he walked to the sofa in the living room of the suite.
He sank down onto one of the cushions, taking her with him. He pulled her into his lap and continued to hug her tightly. Jordan curled into him, her arms around his neck. He was warm and solid and familiar.
So familiar.
They sat together on the couch, hugging, for several minutes.
Eventually, she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him.
He met her gaze, but didn’t say anything.
He didn’t really need to say anything.
“Thank you,” she told him. She didn’t need to say anything either, she knew, but she wanted to.
He just gave her a single nod.
She pulled back slightly studying him. His jaw was tight and though he was holding her and hugging her, his eyes were stormy.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He gave a soft snort. “I think that’s my line.”
She shook her head. “Well, obviously I’m not okay. I’ve never been more humiliated in my life. But you look…” She narrowed her eyes. “Really pissed.”
“Accurate.”
Yeah, that made sense. Fletcher wasn’t a huge fan of Jason’s. In spite of her best efforts and desires over the years, Jason and Fletcher had never been friends. They tolerated one another. Mostly because she insisted on it. But there was a tension between the two and always had been.
Jason had, at times, been jealous of Fletcher. At least in the beginning. When they were fifteen and had first started dating, everything about relationships had been new to both of them. Her being close to Fletcher had made Jason suspicious. But after some time, he’d realized that she and Fletcher truly were just best buddies.
It probably helped that Fletcher had been a playboy from a young age. He was a Landry and the Landry males were well known for being too charming for their own good. They all had more than their share of female attention and they all wallowed in it. Fletcher had been no exception. He’d dated extensively through high school and had been very familiar with back seats and lost panties long before Jason even got lucky with his longtime girlfriend.
For some reason, thinking about that now, she became acutely aware of the fact that she was in Fletcher’s lap.
She’d sat in Fletcher’s lap lots of times. Usually when there had been too many people packed into someone’s pickup heading down to the bayou for a bonfire.
Was that the safest situation? Of course not. Would they have been pulled over and ticketed by the cop if he’d seen them? Probably. But if they were ever short on seats, whether in the pickup or on someone’s couch for movie nights, she’d always plopped down on Fletcher. Sometimes not even just because they were short of seats. She’d sat on his lap and shared blankets around bonfires and ballgames a number of times.
But it had been a while.
And for some reason, at this moment, she was aware that he was bigger and harder than she remembered from past lap-sitting situations.
Of course he was. He was twenty-six now. This was definitely not the same body she’d cuddled up with in high school on the pontoon boat when the sun dropped and things got chilly on the bayou.
It wasn’t just him in general that was bigger and harder. There is a specific part of him pressing into her right butt cheek at the moment that definitely could be described as big and hard.
She wiggled.
His hand clamped down to keep her from moving. And that was when she became aware that one of his big, hot hands was resting on her hip.
Her mostly bare hip.
Because she was wearing the t-shirt she slept in and panties. And she hadn’t covered up to answer the door.
So now she was sitting on Fletcher’s lap, barely dressed, in a hotel suite, and he seemed very happy to see her.
“Fletch—”
“Ignore it.”
Yeah, he knew what she’d noticed. As always, they were on the same page without exchanging many words.
She shifted again, his grip tightened on her hip, and she was shocked to feel tingles dance across her skin.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“I’m ignoring the fact that you’re half-naked. You can ignore my reaction to it.”
It was completely stupid, and probably inappropriate, but Jordan snorted.
“Your ‘reaction’ would indicate that you’re not actually ignoring me being half-naked.”
Fletcher gave the soft chuckle and squeezed her hip again. Then he nudged her off his lap.
Jordan stood and gave him a smile. “You’ve seen me in less.”
They’d swum together many, many times. She’d worn bathing suits, bikinis, and they’d even skinny dipped a couple of times. Never just the two of them and, as far she knew, he’d never gotten a good look. But he’d probably seen a flash of her ass at least. And she’d gotten one really good full frontal view the summer after they’d graduated. It had been quick, right before he dove into the water, and she’d, of course, been completely caught up in Jason, but she’d understood what the girls of Autre and the surrounding area had been gushing about.
Fletcher stretched up from the couch and Jordan had to take a step back to give him space.
“Who’s saying that I didn’t have this ‘reaction’ then too?” he asked.
Jordan grinned. This relationship was so easy. They could talk about almost anything and there was very little filtering of language or topics. At least it had always been that way. She was incredibly relieved to think that was still true. They hadn’t really been “them” for a while, but now standing here, looking up at him, after two years of being physically apart and three and a half months of things being awkward and tense in phone calls and texts, she desperately needed them to be them again.
“Thanks for saying that,” she told him.
“Thanks for shaving your legs,” he returned. His eyes drop to her bare legs.
Again, he’d seen them many times in shorts, skirts, and bathing suits. But he’d also known her through many awkward growing-up stages. Like before she’d started shaving her legs. And after she started shaving her legs and hated it. She’d sometimes go a few days even in the summer when she was wearing shorts and he always gave her shit about it. To which she would always reply, “I’m only hanging out with you, it doesn’t matter.”
Right now, though, she was really glad she’d shaved her legs too.
“Get your stuff," Fletcher said.
“What?”
“I’m taking you home. Get your stuff.”
“Home?”
Fletcher blew out a breath. “Well, what else are you going to do?”
He had a point. But if she went home, she couldn’t not have the conversation with her mother that she didn’t want to have.
She was suddenly single. And homeless, since the apartment in Nashville was Jason’s. And even if she was going to get her own, she didn’t have a job—also thanks to Jason and her quitting her job to travel with him four months before he told her he was in love with someone else.
But she didn’t want it to be in Nashville anyway.
She’d clearly taken too long to respond, because Fletcher said, “You need to come home.”
“Sure, why not? Everyone already saw the most humiliating moment of my life, I might as well slink back home with my tail between my legs, jobless, boyfriend-less, pathetic, and miserable.”
It took Fletcher about three seconds to answer. “Yeah, you might as well.”
That was not going to make it into the pep talk Hall of Fame, but Jordan felt her mouth curving into a grin. “At least there’ll be moonshine and good coffee.” It seemed no one outside of Louisiana believed in chicory coffee, which was a true travesty. She paused. “I’m really glad you’re here."
His eyes flickered with emotion but he just gave her a little nod. “Of course I’m here.”
Of course he was here. She probably should’ve been expecting it.
“I just really —”
“Jordan,” Fletcher interrupted.
“Yeah?”
“You need to put some clothes on.”
She looked down at herself. Her shirt was a pale peach color and hit about three inches below the lower curve of her ass.
“But I shaved.”
Fletcher tucked his hands into his front pockets of his jeans and braced his feet apart. He nodded. “Yep. And I’m wondering just how much shaving you do.”
Her eyes widened in her mouth dropped open. She stared at him. There was very little off limits between her and Fletcher, but there were just some things they naturally steered away from. How much shaving she did was one of those things.
“I can’t believe you just said that to me.”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. Also that shirt is a little see-through when you’re standing in front of the window.”
She glanced behind her. The sun was coming in through the huge window. She looked back at him. “I—”
“And I can see your nipples.”
Again she felt her mouth dropped open. She was very rarely speechless around Fletcher. Then again, Fletcher very rarely talked about her nipples. In fact he had never talked about her nipples.
She crossed her arms over her chest instinctively. It seemed that her nipples liked being talked about because they were a little perkier than they had been a moment ago.
“Wow,” was her only response. Very eloquent.
Again, he just shrugged. “Thought we could always say anything to one another.”
“We…can…I just never…had you comment…my nipples before.” She couldn’t believe she was stumbling over her words with Fletcher.
“You sure?”
“Very.”
“Huh.” Fletcher seemed to be thinking about that. “Well, I’m sure I’ve noticed them before, so I must’ve been trying to be a gentleman by not commenting.”
“And you’re not feeling gentlemanly today?”
“Not especially.”
“And why is that?”
“It just you and me, Jordan. And you’re now single. Do I need to be a gentleman?”
She took a deep breath, studying him.
Fletcher seemed a little wound up. Not his usual laid-back, easy-going self. She realized he was worried about her. So no, he did not need to be a gentleman.
“Nope,” she said.
“Good. Now go get dressed.”
Or else what? She thought. But she didn’t say it out loud. She wasn’t going to taunt Fletcher about her near naked state and her nipples.
That was ridiculous. And inappropriate.
Probably. For some reason.
Why didn’t that feel inappropriate and ridiculous?
That was probably something she should think about later. But she was acutely aware now of her near-naked state and her nipples and getting that all covered up seem like a good idea.
“Be back in a bit,” she said, pivoting on her heel and heading for the bedroom. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath.
Coming May 25th!
PREORDER NOW!
Amazon: http://bit.ly/HeavyPetting-Amz
Apple Books: http://bit.ly/HeavyPetting-Apple
nook: http://bit.ly/HeavyPetting-nook
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Google Play: http://bit.ly/HeavyPetting-GP
Paperback and audio coming too!
Flipping Love You!
Flipping Love You, book three in the Boys of the Bayou Gone Wild series, is coming June 29th!
Here's a peek at Zeke and Jillian!
He's the tattooed bad boy her mama warned her about.
She's his hot mess--but mostly hot--next door neighbor.
Until a two-night-stand gives them the surprise of a lifetime...
“So your stress-relieving list is sex, therapy, wine, and massages. And sex is your preference because it’s faster, easier, and cheaper than all the others.”
“Yep.”
Wow. She was…something.
“Except, like I said, it’s not always faster than a massage.”
Right.
“How long are your massages?”
“An hour. Hour and a half if I’m really tense.”
“Yeah, this is going to take longer than that.”
He didn’t know why he felt so compelled to make an impression on this woman, but now that he’d made her smile, and had her full attention, and had seen her green eyes up close, he was going to send her on her way with a huge grin and very fond memories of Autre.
“Do you have more tattoos?” Her eyes were back on his arm where his full sleeve showed beneath the edge of his t-shirt. Oh, she liked tattoos.
“I do.”
“Are you any good at dirty talk?”
The woman knew what she liked.
His entire body felt like he'd just taken a big shot of his grandpa’s moonshine. He was hot, on edge, and ready for the unexpected. Because when Leo Landry’s moonshine came out, you never knew what could happen.
“As a matter fact, I can’t really help it.”
She let out a breath. Then she gave him a full smile.
Yeah, he wasn’t going anywhere for a nice, long time. And suddenly his head felt fine.
“Do you have a wife, fiancée, girlfriend, woman who thinks she’s your girlfriend even if you don’t think so?”
“No. No. No. And I did but we cleared that up.”
She gave him another of those little half smiles. Like she didn’t want to be amused by him, but she couldn’t resist.
“How do you feel about one-night stands? Because I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“They are my favorite kind of night stand.”
Her smile grew and Zeke felt a strange warmth along with the heat.
“And you won’t brag about this to your friends tomorrow?”
“Oh, I’m absolutely going to brag to my friends about this tomorrow,” he said. He took a step closer to her. “Especially Michael. Since he was out there saving goats and being all charming and sweet and you didn’t invite him to your room.”
“He was on duty.”
Zeke lifted a brow. “That’s the only reason.”
“Probably. He’s hot. And has the heroic, sweet thing going for him.”
“He fakes most of the sweet stuff.”
“How about the heroic stuff?”
Zeke gave a dramatic sigh. “Unfortunately for the rest of us assholes, that’s all real.”
She gave a soft snort. “Maybe I actually am concerned about your head and thought I should keep an eye on you to be sure you don’t slip into unconsciousness and never wake up.”
“I’m going to accept that only because I like it better than the realization that Michael could be in here with you right now.” He leaned in. “But I don’t believe you. I think you took a look at my boots and Michael’s and realized that mine were bigger.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know I did that?”
He paused, then shook his head. “You did do that?”
“Of course.”
“You are…”
“I know,” she said, when he trailed off.
He wasn’t even sure what he’d been intending to fill in there. Odd? Quirky? Fascinating?
Yep. To all of that.
“So, can I brag to my friends about it tomorrow?” she asked, her voice huskier now.
“You better,” he said, dropping his voice to a gruffer note.
The next smile she gave him was one that said he’d given all the right answers, but even more, it was filled with heat as well.
“There it is.” He reached up and cupped her face.
Her breathing got more ragged as she looked up at him. And she had to look up a ways. She was small. She probably stood about five-three to his six-four.
“What?” she asked softly.
“The reaction I’ve been going for.”
“Reaction?”
“Yes, until now. You’ve seemed very…dispassionate towards me.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she was thinking about that. “Have I?”
“You have.” He leaned in, bracing a hand on the door just above her ear. “Quite insulting.”
This smile was a little more sly and definitely had a touch of mischief. “Maybe you should see how passionate you can make me.”
“Oh, challenge accepted,” Zeke told her.
Be sure you PREORDER NOW!
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nook: http://bit.ly/Flipping-Love-You-nook
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Paperback coming soon!
Audio in production!
Here's a peek at Zeke and Jillian!
He's the tattooed bad boy her mama warned her about.
She's his hot mess--but mostly hot--next door neighbor.
Until a two-night-stand gives them the surprise of a lifetime...
“So your stress-relieving list is sex, therapy, wine, and massages. And sex is your preference because it’s faster, easier, and cheaper than all the others.”
“Yep.”
Wow. She was…something.
“Except, like I said, it’s not always faster than a massage.”
Right.
“How long are your massages?”
“An hour. Hour and a half if I’m really tense.”
“Yeah, this is going to take longer than that.”
He didn’t know why he felt so compelled to make an impression on this woman, but now that he’d made her smile, and had her full attention, and had seen her green eyes up close, he was going to send her on her way with a huge grin and very fond memories of Autre.
“Do you have more tattoos?” Her eyes were back on his arm where his full sleeve showed beneath the edge of his t-shirt. Oh, she liked tattoos.
“I do.”
“Are you any good at dirty talk?”
The woman knew what she liked.
His entire body felt like he'd just taken a big shot of his grandpa’s moonshine. He was hot, on edge, and ready for the unexpected. Because when Leo Landry’s moonshine came out, you never knew what could happen.
“As a matter fact, I can’t really help it.”
She let out a breath. Then she gave him a full smile.
Yeah, he wasn’t going anywhere for a nice, long time. And suddenly his head felt fine.
“Do you have a wife, fiancée, girlfriend, woman who thinks she’s your girlfriend even if you don’t think so?”
“No. No. No. And I did but we cleared that up.”
She gave him another of those little half smiles. Like she didn’t want to be amused by him, but she couldn’t resist.
“How do you feel about one-night stands? Because I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“They are my favorite kind of night stand.”
Her smile grew and Zeke felt a strange warmth along with the heat.
“And you won’t brag about this to your friends tomorrow?”
“Oh, I’m absolutely going to brag to my friends about this tomorrow,” he said. He took a step closer to her. “Especially Michael. Since he was out there saving goats and being all charming and sweet and you didn’t invite him to your room.”
“He was on duty.”
Zeke lifted a brow. “That’s the only reason.”
“Probably. He’s hot. And has the heroic, sweet thing going for him.”
“He fakes most of the sweet stuff.”
“How about the heroic stuff?”
Zeke gave a dramatic sigh. “Unfortunately for the rest of us assholes, that’s all real.”
She gave a soft snort. “Maybe I actually am concerned about your head and thought I should keep an eye on you to be sure you don’t slip into unconsciousness and never wake up.”
“I’m going to accept that only because I like it better than the realization that Michael could be in here with you right now.” He leaned in. “But I don’t believe you. I think you took a look at my boots and Michael’s and realized that mine were bigger.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know I did that?”
He paused, then shook his head. “You did do that?”
“Of course.”
“You are…”
“I know,” she said, when he trailed off.
He wasn’t even sure what he’d been intending to fill in there. Odd? Quirky? Fascinating?
Yep. To all of that.
“So, can I brag to my friends about it tomorrow?” she asked, her voice huskier now.
“You better,” he said, dropping his voice to a gruffer note.
The next smile she gave him was one that said he’d given all the right answers, but even more, it was filled with heat as well.
“There it is.” He reached up and cupped her face.
Her breathing got more ragged as she looked up at him. And she had to look up a ways. She was small. She probably stood about five-three to his six-four.
“What?” she asked softly.
“The reaction I’ve been going for.”
“Reaction?”
“Yes, until now. You’ve seemed very…dispassionate towards me.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she was thinking about that. “Have I?”
“You have.” He leaned in, bracing a hand on the door just above her ear. “Quite insulting.”
This smile was a little more sly and definitely had a touch of mischief. “Maybe you should see how passionate you can make me.”
“Oh, challenge accepted,” Zeke told her.
Be sure you PREORDER NOW!
Amazon: http://bit.ly/Flipping-Love-You-Amz
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nook: http://bit.ly/Flipping-Love-You-nook
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Paperback coming soon!
Audio in production!
She really shouldn’t fall for a guy with a death wish.
She really shouldn’t fall for a guy with a death wish.
Naomi LeClaire sighed as she stopped her truck in the middle of the road. She didn’t dare pull over to the side. The rain pounding down could wash away the ground on either side of the road in minutes. But it wasn’t like there was any other traffic out here in this storm so taking up the center of the road wasn’t really a problem.
Thank God this road was paved at least. It wasn’t unusual for Donovan to go out on dirt roads and even on not-really-roads-at-all when he was doing rescue and recovery missions for injured wildlife.
She peered through the rain that was pelting her windshield so hard her wipers could barely keep up.
He was lying on the road in front of her truck. Next to the body of a dead bear.
She shook her head.
A few months ago she would have been alarmed to pull up and find a man lying in the road next to a dead animal.
Today…she’d been expecting this. Or something like it at least.
Of course, a few months ago—i.e., before Donovan Foster had showed up in her tiny hometown of Autre, Louisiana—she wouldn’t have been out driving around while a hurricane was making landfall two hundred miles east of them.
She really shouldn’t fall for a guy who loved action and adventure and chaos and who either thought he was invincible or didn’t really care if today was his last one on earth.
But Donovan was out here because there were three orphaned black bear cubs that needed rescued and he would, of course, not go anywhere until they were all found and taken back to his rehabilitation center.
Or until someone convinced him that his well-being was just as important as theirs.
Naomi shut the truck off and reached up to pull her hair back. She wore her hair in cornrows mostly lately, keeping it back off her face and from getting tangled being outside in the wind and weather, doing God-knew-what-might-come-up with Donovan. Now she gathered the long, black braids that fell to her shoulder blades into a bunch and tied them together. Then she got out of the truck.
She was drenched within seconds.
Dammit.
She really shouldn’t fall for a guy who was the reason that over the past few months she’d ended up with a favorite outfit stained with something-she-didn’t-want-to-talk-about, an infected cut on her hand, and a lost shoe. Not lost in the sense that it was ruined and couldn’t be cleaned or repaired. It was just lost. Never to be found.
All things considered, she really shouldn’t fall for Donovan Foster.
The fact that he was outgoing, and charming, and that the crazy risks he took were to save wounded and threatened wildlife didn’t help though.
The hard muscles, contagious smile, deep green eyes, quick sense of humor, and hard, rippling, bunching, often-naked muscles—had she mentioned those?—also didn’t help.
Needless to say, she was now wearing much more practical clothes and footwear when she hung out with him. And gloves. Tough, no-way-am-I-bleeding-after-this work gloves.
But right now she wanted those hard, sun-bronzed muscles intact and inside where they’d be safe. Along with the rest of him, of course.
She marched across the thirty feet that separated them. Though the effect was definitely less impressive because she had to lean into the wind.
She stopped beside where he was lying. He was completely still, his eyes shut, but she knew he wasn’t dead. Or she was pretty sure. He’d apparently texted Zander, the town cop, just twenty minutes ago with his location.
Naomi planted her hands on her hips. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
He opened one eye, then lifted a hand to block the rain.
“Get off the ground, Donovan.”
She had to raise her voice to be heard over the rain and wind. But that was okay. She was mad and more than a little concerned. This man needed to get his fine ass in his truck and head back to town now. He wasn’t stupid or crazy, but he definitely didn’t take care of himself and he took far too many risks and that bothered her. A lot.
Because, whether she should or not, she had fallen for him.
SEALED WITH A KISS is coming soon!
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Naomi LeClaire sighed as she stopped her truck in the middle of the road. She didn’t dare pull over to the side. The rain pounding down could wash away the ground on either side of the road in minutes. But it wasn’t like there was any other traffic out here in this storm so taking up the center of the road wasn’t really a problem.
Thank God this road was paved at least. It wasn’t unusual for Donovan to go out on dirt roads and even on not-really-roads-at-all when he was doing rescue and recovery missions for injured wildlife.
She peered through the rain that was pelting her windshield so hard her wipers could barely keep up.
He was lying on the road in front of her truck. Next to the body of a dead bear.
She shook her head.
A few months ago she would have been alarmed to pull up and find a man lying in the road next to a dead animal.
Today…she’d been expecting this. Or something like it at least.
Of course, a few months ago—i.e., before Donovan Foster had showed up in her tiny hometown of Autre, Louisiana—she wouldn’t have been out driving around while a hurricane was making landfall two hundred miles east of them.
She really shouldn’t fall for a guy who loved action and adventure and chaos and who either thought he was invincible or didn’t really care if today was his last one on earth.
But Donovan was out here because there were three orphaned black bear cubs that needed rescued and he would, of course, not go anywhere until they were all found and taken back to his rehabilitation center.
Or until someone convinced him that his well-being was just as important as theirs.
Naomi shut the truck off and reached up to pull her hair back. She wore her hair in cornrows mostly lately, keeping it back off her face and from getting tangled being outside in the wind and weather, doing God-knew-what-might-come-up with Donovan. Now she gathered the long, black braids that fell to her shoulder blades into a bunch and tied them together. Then she got out of the truck.
She was drenched within seconds.
Dammit.
She really shouldn’t fall for a guy who was the reason that over the past few months she’d ended up with a favorite outfit stained with something-she-didn’t-want-to-talk-about, an infected cut on her hand, and a lost shoe. Not lost in the sense that it was ruined and couldn’t be cleaned or repaired. It was just lost. Never to be found.
All things considered, she really shouldn’t fall for Donovan Foster.
The fact that he was outgoing, and charming, and that the crazy risks he took were to save wounded and threatened wildlife didn’t help though.
The hard muscles, contagious smile, deep green eyes, quick sense of humor, and hard, rippling, bunching, often-naked muscles—had she mentioned those?—also didn’t help.
Needless to say, she was now wearing much more practical clothes and footwear when she hung out with him. And gloves. Tough, no-way-am-I-bleeding-after-this work gloves.
But right now she wanted those hard, sun-bronzed muscles intact and inside where they’d be safe. Along with the rest of him, of course.
She marched across the thirty feet that separated them. Though the effect was definitely less impressive because she had to lean into the wind.
She stopped beside where he was lying. He was completely still, his eyes shut, but she knew he wasn’t dead. Or she was pretty sure. He’d apparently texted Zander, the town cop, just twenty minutes ago with his location.
Naomi planted her hands on her hips. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
He opened one eye, then lifted a hand to block the rain.
“Get off the ground, Donovan.”
She had to raise her voice to be heard over the rain and wind. But that was okay. She was mad and more than a little concerned. This man needed to get his fine ass in his truck and head back to town now. He wasn’t stupid or crazy, but he definitely didn’t take care of himself and he took far too many risks and that bothered her. A lot.
Because, whether she should or not, she had fallen for him.
SEALED WITH A KISS is coming soon!
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Head Over Hooves is live now!
You know in movies where the big city girl lands in a small town for the holidays and falls for the hunky guy who saves Christmas?
This isn’t that story.
But this guy does look fantastic in flannel.
And out of flannel…
Check out this peek at this hot, holiday fling rom com from NYT bestseller Erin Nicholas!
For some reason, she’d been picturing Drew Ryan, the Iowa farmer, as older, a little overweight, and a whole lot paler.
But this version was not much older than her, was lean and muscular, clearly from the manual work he did every day, and had tanned skin that was no doubt from working outside on a regular basis. He also had big, rough hands, a bit of scruff on his jaw, and… they stopped across the fence from a big black pickup with a huge trailer hooked on the back…reindeer.
He checked a lot of her boxes. And he had reindeer. And he was a great kisser.
Drew is not from Autre. That’s number ONE on the list.
Right. Exactly. It was. Definitely.
Maybe she needed to print her list off and keep it tucked in her bra or something so she could refer back to it while Drew Ryan was in town.
He climbed over the fence, those faded blue jeans cupping his fine ass right in front of her face.
Yeah, you should definitely print that list off.
Then he turned, gave her a grin, and reached out his arms. “Come on.” He wiggled his fingers.
She cocked a brow. “Come on?”
“Gotta get you over the fence.”
“You don’t think I can get over on my own?”
“In that dress? You’re gonna get a splinter where you really don’t want one.”
Did he get just a bit of a drawl in his voice?
Surely not. He was a Yankee. But the way his gaze drifted over her and the roughness in his voice made her ears perk up the way they did when the bayou boys got flirty.
What. The. Hell. Was. That?
She smoothed the front of her skirt and told the parts underneath it to calm the hell down. He’s a Yankee, she repeated, specifically to them.
They didn’t care. Because when she put her hand in his and propped her foot up on the bottom plank of the fence and he pulled her up, grasped her by the waist, and lifted her up over the fence like she was a princess and he was the dashing prince sweeping her out of her carriage, all of her parts swooned and got a little warmer.
More like you’re a bale of hay he’s tossing into the back of his truck.
But dammit, her girl parts focused only on tossing into the back of his truck.
Iowa boys had truck beds just like Louisiana boys did.
And Rory thought it was very possible Drew Ryan knew just what to do with his.
She needed to get that list printed off and laminated. Stat.
HEAD OVER HOOVES is live now!
https://erinnicholas.com/books/head-o...
This isn’t that story.
But this guy does look fantastic in flannel.
And out of flannel…
Check out this peek at this hot, holiday fling rom com from NYT bestseller Erin Nicholas!
For some reason, she’d been picturing Drew Ryan, the Iowa farmer, as older, a little overweight, and a whole lot paler.
But this version was not much older than her, was lean and muscular, clearly from the manual work he did every day, and had tanned skin that was no doubt from working outside on a regular basis. He also had big, rough hands, a bit of scruff on his jaw, and… they stopped across the fence from a big black pickup with a huge trailer hooked on the back…reindeer.
He checked a lot of her boxes. And he had reindeer. And he was a great kisser.
Drew is not from Autre. That’s number ONE on the list.
Right. Exactly. It was. Definitely.
Maybe she needed to print her list off and keep it tucked in her bra or something so she could refer back to it while Drew Ryan was in town.
He climbed over the fence, those faded blue jeans cupping his fine ass right in front of her face.
Yeah, you should definitely print that list off.
Then he turned, gave her a grin, and reached out his arms. “Come on.” He wiggled his fingers.
She cocked a brow. “Come on?”
“Gotta get you over the fence.”
“You don’t think I can get over on my own?”
“In that dress? You’re gonna get a splinter where you really don’t want one.”
Did he get just a bit of a drawl in his voice?
Surely not. He was a Yankee. But the way his gaze drifted over her and the roughness in his voice made her ears perk up the way they did when the bayou boys got flirty.
What. The. Hell. Was. That?
She smoothed the front of her skirt and told the parts underneath it to calm the hell down. He’s a Yankee, she repeated, specifically to them.
They didn’t care. Because when she put her hand in his and propped her foot up on the bottom plank of the fence and he pulled her up, grasped her by the waist, and lifted her up over the fence like she was a princess and he was the dashing prince sweeping her out of her carriage, all of her parts swooned and got a little warmer.
More like you’re a bale of hay he’s tossing into the back of his truck.
But dammit, her girl parts focused only on tossing into the back of his truck.
Iowa boys had truck beds just like Louisiana boys did.
And Rory thought it was very possible Drew Ryan knew just what to do with his.
She needed to get that list printed off and laminated. Stat.
HEAD OVER HOOVES is live now!
https://erinnicholas.com/books/head-o...
Say It Like You Mane It!
It's almost here! Zander Landry's story!
Here's a peek!
He knew exactly what to do with a woman who’d been left at the altar.
Take her back inside Ellie’s.
There was plenty of booze just inside. And other women. He could easily pawn her off on any of the girls, who would tell her all about what a dumbass the guy was and how she deserved better and how she’d come to the right place to drown her sorrows.
She’d be shit-faced and laughing in no time. Then he’d take her over to the B & B, have Heather put her to bed and feed her in the morning, and then he’d drive her wherever she wanted to go when she felt better.
Feeling a little more optimistic, he approached her.
He had a lot of women in his life, but they weren’t the cry-over-being-dumped types. They were more the cut-off-his-balls-and-feed-them-to-the-gators types. Now that he was in law enforcement, he couldn’t cover for them like he would have at one point, but they all also knew better than to tell him flat out about anything like that. And he knew what questions to not ask.
“Ma'am?”
Her head came up as he approached, and Zander realized that she hadn't been crying at all. Her head had been down, strands of hair falling over the side of her face because she had been hunched over her phone.
She seemed confused when she looked up at him. “Yes?”
When her eyes met his, Zander had to take a second.
𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴.
That was his first thought. Well, after cataloguing that her eyes were a stunning aquamarine blue, her hair was at least three different shades of gold all streaked together in thick waves, and her skin was smooth and creamy.
All of those were descriptors that came straight from the pages of the books he read with his friends in their romance book club. No way would he have noticed all of that before he’d started reading those damned books. 𝘈 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 would have done it.
But she was gorgeous. Not just from across a dim room with a tiara-halo on top of her head, but right up close along a dirt road too.
And that was all the most clichéd shit he’d ever heard.
Thought.
Whatever.
Still, he had to pry his damned tongue from the roof of his mouth.
Because of all the stupid romance novels he read. And movies he watched. And country love songs he listened to.
And because he was a Landry.
He sighed. 𝘔𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 because he was a Landry.
He might not have actually thought the words “aquamarine blue” without the books, but he would have had the wow, she’s something special thought trip through his head because of his DNA.
The Landry family had as much romance in their blood as red blood cells. They were genetically programmed and then nurtured from the crib to believe in love and fate and soulmates and romance.
Some of them just went with it. Some of them fought it.
But none of them were immune.
𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙝𝙤𝙩, 𝙜𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙥 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩...𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩?
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Paperback coming soon!
Audio: in production!
Here's a peek!
He knew exactly what to do with a woman who’d been left at the altar.
Take her back inside Ellie’s.
There was plenty of booze just inside. And other women. He could easily pawn her off on any of the girls, who would tell her all about what a dumbass the guy was and how she deserved better and how she’d come to the right place to drown her sorrows.
She’d be shit-faced and laughing in no time. Then he’d take her over to the B & B, have Heather put her to bed and feed her in the morning, and then he’d drive her wherever she wanted to go when she felt better.
Feeling a little more optimistic, he approached her.
He had a lot of women in his life, but they weren’t the cry-over-being-dumped types. They were more the cut-off-his-balls-and-feed-them-to-the-gators types. Now that he was in law enforcement, he couldn’t cover for them like he would have at one point, but they all also knew better than to tell him flat out about anything like that. And he knew what questions to not ask.
“Ma'am?”
Her head came up as he approached, and Zander realized that she hadn't been crying at all. Her head had been down, strands of hair falling over the side of her face because she had been hunched over her phone.
She seemed confused when she looked up at him. “Yes?”
When her eyes met his, Zander had to take a second.
𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴.
That was his first thought. Well, after cataloguing that her eyes were a stunning aquamarine blue, her hair was at least three different shades of gold all streaked together in thick waves, and her skin was smooth and creamy.
All of those were descriptors that came straight from the pages of the books he read with his friends in their romance book club. No way would he have noticed all of that before he’d started reading those damned books. 𝘈 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 would have done it.
But she was gorgeous. Not just from across a dim room with a tiara-halo on top of her head, but right up close along a dirt road too.
And that was all the most clichéd shit he’d ever heard.
Thought.
Whatever.
Still, he had to pry his damned tongue from the roof of his mouth.
Because of all the stupid romance novels he read. And movies he watched. And country love songs he listened to.
And because he was a Landry.
He sighed. 𝘔𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 because he was a Landry.
He might not have actually thought the words “aquamarine blue” without the books, but he would have had the wow, she’s something special thought trip through his head because of his DNA.
The Landry family had as much romance in their blood as red blood cells. They were genetically programmed and then nurtured from the crib to believe in love and fate and soulmates and romance.
Some of them just went with it. Some of them fought it.
But none of them were immune.
𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙝𝙤𝙩, 𝙜𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙥 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩...𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩?
PREORDER NOW!
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Paperback coming soon!
Audio: in production!
Kiss My Giraffe is almost here!
Remember that thing we talked about at Christmas?"
Knox felt his gut clench. They'd talked about sleeping together. And him becoming the temporary foster dad to three baby otters.
And they'd kissed for the first time. A kiss that had been causing annoying, unwelcome, frustrating dirty dreams for three fucking months.
"About having a salacious affair where we sneak around behind our friends' backs and sleep together whenever I'm in town?" she pressed when he didn't answer.
"Yes. I remember." Too well. He was incredibly pissed about how often he'd replayed that conversation and how restless he'd been waiting for her to call or come back to Autre.
He didn't pine for women. Ever. He did the opposite of that.
But now she was here. And Knox wasn't sure what he was feeling. Her showing up unannounced wasn't unusual. Fiona Grady rolled into Autre without warning more often than not in her grape-soda-purple truck that sent his heart hammering and cock hardening.
But it had been three months since he'd seen her. Since they'd talked. Since he'd had any clue what she was doing, where she was, how she was.
Suddenly, she was on his doorstep asking about their plan to bang whenever she was in town for a couple of days?
"Okay, well, there's something I need to tell you that will make you not want to do that anymore," she said. "So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get naked together once before I told you and ruined everything?"
He opened his mouth to reply. Then shut it without a word. What the hell?
He glanced over his shoulder. Three minutes ago, he'd been sitting at his kitchen table doing paperwork with a cup of coffee and listening to a podcast about new creative urban development ideas.
Now the woman he was low-level obsessed with was on his porch asking if he wanted to have sex before she told him something that would make him not want to have sex with her anymore.
He ran a hand through his hair. This was why Fiona Grady was no good for him. She came into his carefully controlled and organized life and made things chaotic and messy.
"Are you sick?" he asked.
"Sick? No."
"Dying?"
"No."
"Is anyone dying?"
"No."
"Are you married?" He braced himself. He knew very little about this woman, actually, and if she belonged to someone else, he'd… leave her alone. And hate that man. And never forgive her for stirring him up like this.
"Absolutely not."
"Engaged?"
"No."
Okay, that was all…way too much of a relief. He should not be this happy to hear that.
"Did you kill someone?" he asked.
She tipped her head, her mouth curling. "Is that a definite deal-breaker?"
No, probably not. Knox narrowed his eyes.
"No, I haven't killed anyone."
"Are the Feds looking for you? Or will I be implicated in some kind of crime if I let you in?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"That's not a no."
"I'm just being honest."
Fair enough. Fiona was a wild animal advocate. The type of person to show up at roadside petting zoos and 'circuses' to monitor how the animals were treated and hand out literature to people attending the events, raising awareness about the poor conditions and treatment of those animals. She showed up to help rescue and care for animals, wild and domestic, after natural disasters such as hurricanes and wildfires. She regularly lobbied local, state, and even the national government for animal protections.
The chance that she could have done something in the "gray area" for one of her causes was pretty good.
The problem with that was he knew that wouldn't keep him from wanting her.
She was precisely the kind of woman he should be avoiding.
He studied her face for another long moment, then gave in to the inevitable. He pushed his door open.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Yeah."
She wasn't dying, wasn't married, and hadn't killed anyone. And he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted another woman in his life. So how was he possibly going to shut the door on her? After three months of missing her? He wasn't that strong. Or stupid.
Coming May 17th!
PREORDER NOW!
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Apple Books: https://apple.co/3OhyPhE
Nook: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-nook
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Paperback coming soon!
Audio in production!
Knox felt his gut clench. They'd talked about sleeping together. And him becoming the temporary foster dad to three baby otters.
And they'd kissed for the first time. A kiss that had been causing annoying, unwelcome, frustrating dirty dreams for three fucking months.
"About having a salacious affair where we sneak around behind our friends' backs and sleep together whenever I'm in town?" she pressed when he didn't answer.
"Yes. I remember." Too well. He was incredibly pissed about how often he'd replayed that conversation and how restless he'd been waiting for her to call or come back to Autre.
He didn't pine for women. Ever. He did the opposite of that.
But now she was here. And Knox wasn't sure what he was feeling. Her showing up unannounced wasn't unusual. Fiona Grady rolled into Autre without warning more often than not in her grape-soda-purple truck that sent his heart hammering and cock hardening.
But it had been three months since he'd seen her. Since they'd talked. Since he'd had any clue what she was doing, where she was, how she was.
Suddenly, she was on his doorstep asking about their plan to bang whenever she was in town for a couple of days?
"Okay, well, there's something I need to tell you that will make you not want to do that anymore," she said. "So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get naked together once before I told you and ruined everything?"
He opened his mouth to reply. Then shut it without a word. What the hell?
He glanced over his shoulder. Three minutes ago, he'd been sitting at his kitchen table doing paperwork with a cup of coffee and listening to a podcast about new creative urban development ideas.
Now the woman he was low-level obsessed with was on his porch asking if he wanted to have sex before she told him something that would make him not want to have sex with her anymore.
He ran a hand through his hair. This was why Fiona Grady was no good for him. She came into his carefully controlled and organized life and made things chaotic and messy.
"Are you sick?" he asked.
"Sick? No."
"Dying?"
"No."
"Is anyone dying?"
"No."
"Are you married?" He braced himself. He knew very little about this woman, actually, and if she belonged to someone else, he'd… leave her alone. And hate that man. And never forgive her for stirring him up like this.
"Absolutely not."
"Engaged?"
"No."
Okay, that was all…way too much of a relief. He should not be this happy to hear that.
"Did you kill someone?" he asked.
She tipped her head, her mouth curling. "Is that a definite deal-breaker?"
No, probably not. Knox narrowed his eyes.
"No, I haven't killed anyone."
"Are the Feds looking for you? Or will I be implicated in some kind of crime if I let you in?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"That's not a no."
"I'm just being honest."
Fair enough. Fiona was a wild animal advocate. The type of person to show up at roadside petting zoos and 'circuses' to monitor how the animals were treated and hand out literature to people attending the events, raising awareness about the poor conditions and treatment of those animals. She showed up to help rescue and care for animals, wild and domestic, after natural disasters such as hurricanes and wildfires. She regularly lobbied local, state, and even the national government for animal protections.
The chance that she could have done something in the "gray area" for one of her causes was pretty good.
The problem with that was he knew that wouldn't keep him from wanting her.
She was precisely the kind of woman he should be avoiding.
He studied her face for another long moment, then gave in to the inevitable. He pushed his door open.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Yeah."
She wasn't dying, wasn't married, and hadn't killed anyone. And he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted another woman in his life. So how was he possibly going to shut the door on her? After three months of missing her? He wasn't that strong. Or stupid.
Coming May 17th!
PREORDER NOW!
Amz: https://amzn.to/3E7XvUT
Apple Books: https://apple.co/3OhyPhE
Nook: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-nook
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GP: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-GP
Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-Goodreads
Paperback coming soon!
Audio in production!
All great changes are preceded by chaos...
He pulled back just enough to unbutton his shirt and yank it off. Her gaze and hands were hot as she ran her palms over his bare skin, and Knox shuddered. "F*ck, I love your hands on me."
"Me too. God, how have we waited this long?"
That was a great question. When he'd first met her, he'd known she was trouble. He expected that she'd drive him crazy and that they'd clash whenever she came to town.
He'd been right. But those clashes had been foreplay. He'd acknowledged that to himself only, the second time she'd come to Autre. But he'd started feeling respect for her right away. Not only the work she did but the way she treated the people he loved most.
He'd quickly realized Fiona was pushing the Boys of the Bayou Gone Wild petting zoo toward becoming a sanctuary. She'd seen their potential before they'd understood it themselves. And she'd been right on. She'd given the animals a loving place to go, and she'd given the people a purpose that they'd all embraced and grown from.
He was crazy about her for that alone.
Anyone who loved his people as much as he did would be able to get past a few of his walls.
So he'd resigned himself to liking her. Admiring her. Enjoying their banter and her sass.
But damn, he hadn't expected the physical desire to be so strong.
He just couldn't fight it anymore.
A long-distance, no-strings-attached fling with this woman was perfect.
"We waited because I didn't like you for a long time," he said, leaning in to run his mouth down the length of her throat.
"Liar," she said with a breathless laugh. "You liked me as soon as I brought swearing parrots to town."
He groaned. Those parrots had caused him all kinds of headaches with the locals. "No."
She wiggled underneath him, pressing up against his fly. "Yes."
"I wanted you, but I didn't like you."
"Oh, you wanted me the very first time we met." She grinned up at him. "Just like I wanted you."
"I wanted to paddle your ass."
Her eyes went wide but not with shock. Heat. There was heat there. "I know."
He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? But you kept poking me."
"Yep."
He ran a hand down her side to her butt and cupped a cheek, squeezing firmly. "I still want to regularly."
She gave him a sly grin. "I know."
He shook his head. "I'm going to get to be really dirty with you, aren't I?" Fiona was the perfect type to push and play with. She would never let him overstep, and she would give as good as she got.
His c*ck pulsed with that knowledge, and his body heated. The things he wanted to do to this woman. With this woman. He knew she'd meet him head-on, fully participate, make him beg if she wanted to. But if she let him push her to the point of begging, that would be…amazing.
"You can be however you want to with me," she told him softly.
As she answered, something in her voice or her eyes made him pause. That was so sincere. So…heartfelt.
She meant it, and he sensed that she was referring to things beyond sex.
Instead of pulling away as he probably should have, he lowered his head and kissed her hungrily. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down more firmly against her body. She kissed him back, her hands going to his ass, pulling him into her. She felt like heaven.
"More," she said softly against his lips. "Please."
He dragged his bearded jaw over her cheek and down her neck. "We're going to do this, Fi," he said roughly against her ear. "We're going to have this wild affair. We're gonna f*ck each other senseless." He lifted his head to pin her with his gaze. "And you're going to keep your news to yourself. I don't wanna know. When you come to Autre, you're going to be in my bed. When you're not here, you're gonna answer my f*cking texts. But I don't need anything else."
And he meant that. The long-distance relationship would work. People thought those were hard, and he was sure distance was tough for some. But he knew well that long-distance was perfect for some couples. Like him and Fiona. Two independent people didn't need to be all wrapped up in each other.
He moved to unbutton her jeans, needing desperately to see—and lick—the tattoo on her hip. He'd seen it when he'd needed to do first aid on the ostrich bite on her lower back a few months ago. The tattoo curved over her left hip bone and read 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴.
That was Fiona. She had the potential to turn his world upside down.
NEW stand alone, enemies-to-lovers, grumpy-sunshine, small town rom com!
Amz: https://amzn.to/3E7XvUT
Apple Books: https://apple.co/3OhyPhE
Nook: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-nook
Kobo: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-Kobo
GP: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-GP
"Me too. God, how have we waited this long?"
That was a great question. When he'd first met her, he'd known she was trouble. He expected that she'd drive him crazy and that they'd clash whenever she came to town.
He'd been right. But those clashes had been foreplay. He'd acknowledged that to himself only, the second time she'd come to Autre. But he'd started feeling respect for her right away. Not only the work she did but the way she treated the people he loved most.
He'd quickly realized Fiona was pushing the Boys of the Bayou Gone Wild petting zoo toward becoming a sanctuary. She'd seen their potential before they'd understood it themselves. And she'd been right on. She'd given the animals a loving place to go, and she'd given the people a purpose that they'd all embraced and grown from.
He was crazy about her for that alone.
Anyone who loved his people as much as he did would be able to get past a few of his walls.
So he'd resigned himself to liking her. Admiring her. Enjoying their banter and her sass.
But damn, he hadn't expected the physical desire to be so strong.
He just couldn't fight it anymore.
A long-distance, no-strings-attached fling with this woman was perfect.
"We waited because I didn't like you for a long time," he said, leaning in to run his mouth down the length of her throat.
"Liar," she said with a breathless laugh. "You liked me as soon as I brought swearing parrots to town."
He groaned. Those parrots had caused him all kinds of headaches with the locals. "No."
She wiggled underneath him, pressing up against his fly. "Yes."
"I wanted you, but I didn't like you."
"Oh, you wanted me the very first time we met." She grinned up at him. "Just like I wanted you."
"I wanted to paddle your ass."
Her eyes went wide but not with shock. Heat. There was heat there. "I know."
He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah? But you kept poking me."
"Yep."
He ran a hand down her side to her butt and cupped a cheek, squeezing firmly. "I still want to regularly."
She gave him a sly grin. "I know."
He shook his head. "I'm going to get to be really dirty with you, aren't I?" Fiona was the perfect type to push and play with. She would never let him overstep, and she would give as good as she got.
His c*ck pulsed with that knowledge, and his body heated. The things he wanted to do to this woman. With this woman. He knew she'd meet him head-on, fully participate, make him beg if she wanted to. But if she let him push her to the point of begging, that would be…amazing.
"You can be however you want to with me," she told him softly.
As she answered, something in her voice or her eyes made him pause. That was so sincere. So…heartfelt.
She meant it, and he sensed that she was referring to things beyond sex.
Instead of pulling away as he probably should have, he lowered his head and kissed her hungrily. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down more firmly against her body. She kissed him back, her hands going to his ass, pulling him into her. She felt like heaven.
"More," she said softly against his lips. "Please."
He dragged his bearded jaw over her cheek and down her neck. "We're going to do this, Fi," he said roughly against her ear. "We're going to have this wild affair. We're gonna f*ck each other senseless." He lifted his head to pin her with his gaze. "And you're going to keep your news to yourself. I don't wanna know. When you come to Autre, you're going to be in my bed. When you're not here, you're gonna answer my f*cking texts. But I don't need anything else."
And he meant that. The long-distance relationship would work. People thought those were hard, and he was sure distance was tough for some. But he knew well that long-distance was perfect for some couples. Like him and Fiona. Two independent people didn't need to be all wrapped up in each other.
He moved to unbutton her jeans, needing desperately to see—and lick—the tattoo on her hip. He'd seen it when he'd needed to do first aid on the ostrich bite on her lower back a few months ago. The tattoo curved over her left hip bone and read 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴.
That was Fiona. She had the potential to turn his world upside down.
NEW stand alone, enemies-to-lovers, grumpy-sunshine, small town rom com!
Amz: https://amzn.to/3E7XvUT
Apple Books: https://apple.co/3OhyPhE
Nook: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-nook
Kobo: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-Kobo
GP: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-GP
