Erin Nicholas's Blog - Posts Tagged "grumpy-sunny"
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.”
Apple Books: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Apple
Amazon US: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Am...
Amazon UK: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Am...
Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Am...
Amazon CA: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Am...
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Nook: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-nook
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Paperback-Amazon: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-PB...
Paperback-Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-PB-BN
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.”
Apple Books: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Apple
Amazon US: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Am...
Amazon UK: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Am...
Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Am...
Amazon CA: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-Am...
Kobo: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresisitible-Kobo
Nook: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-nook
Google Play: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-GP
Paperback-Amazon: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-PB...
Paperback-Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/Otterly-Irresistible-PB-BN
Audio coming soon!
how hard was it to say inside and just look normal?
Caroline Camille Holland was sitting in a rocking chair with her bare feet propped on the wooden railing that ran the length of the porch that wrapped around two sides of the enormous main house. She was sipping a tall glass of sweet tea with a bright green bendy straw and she looked the very epitome of laid back and relaxed.
But nothing was quite as straightforward and boring as that. Which was usual for Caroline, as he’d already learned in the short time he’d known her.
The cherry red evening gown she wore was slit on the side up to her hip and, because of the way she had her heels up and ankles crossed, the silky material had fallen away from two very long, smooth, toned legs, leaving them completely bare. Right up to where her panties would show. If she was wearing any.
There was no way she was wearing any.
She also had that damned tiara on her head.
It was sitting askew on her blond waves that fell loose and free around her face and shoulders. She looked a little…tousled. And sexy as fuck.
Torn between amusement, desire, and exasperation—because really, how hard was it to 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭?—Zander schooled his features and approached as if nothing was out of the ordinary at all.
“Evening, Ms. Holland.”
.
𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩...𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩?
.
PREORDER NOW!
Price goes up on release day!
Into KU (and off other store sites) on Feb 7th!
.
Amazon: https://amzn.to/343lwP0
Apple: https://apple.co/3mQyFS2
nook: https://bit.ly/Say-It-nook
Kobo: https://bit.ly/Say-It-kobo
Google Play: https://bit.ly/Say-It-GP
Add it to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/Say-It-Like-You-Mane-I...
Paperback coming soon!
Audio: in production!
But nothing was quite as straightforward and boring as that. Which was usual for Caroline, as he’d already learned in the short time he’d known her.
The cherry red evening gown she wore was slit on the side up to her hip and, because of the way she had her heels up and ankles crossed, the silky material had fallen away from two very long, smooth, toned legs, leaving them completely bare. Right up to where her panties would show. If she was wearing any.
There was no way she was wearing any.
She also had that damned tiara on her head.
It was sitting askew on her blond waves that fell loose and free around her face and shoulders. She looked a little…tousled. And sexy as fuck.
Torn between amusement, desire, and exasperation—because really, how hard was it to 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭?—Zander schooled his features and approached as if nothing was out of the ordinary at all.
“Evening, Ms. Holland.”
.
𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩...𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩?
.
PREORDER NOW!
Price goes up on release day!
Into KU (and off other store sites) on Feb 7th!
.
Amazon: https://amzn.to/343lwP0
Apple: https://apple.co/3mQyFS2
nook: https://bit.ly/Say-It-nook
Kobo: https://bit.ly/Say-It-kobo
Google Play: https://bit.ly/Say-It-GP
Add it to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/Say-It-Like-You-Mane-I...
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!
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
Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-Goodreads
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
Kobo: https://bit.ly/Kiss-My-Giraffe-Kobo
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
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"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
A hot, grumpy-sunny, opposites attract, sexy small town rom com!
Gotta Be Bayou
Spencer Landry was a lot of things. But simple wasn't one of them. He wasn't easy to define in any way. He had come into her life very unconventionally as the friend and cousin of her best friend's boyfriend. Max and Spencer had had immediate chemistry and a definite flirtation when they'd worked together.
Then they'd gone months before seeing each other again at Charlie and Griffin’s wedding. Where they’d flirted again. There’d been a kiss, and a hot make-out session that probably would've turned into more if he hadn't been too drunk.
Then he’d showed up on her doorstep the next day to apologize for being a cocky asshole. And had further cemented the fact that he was a cocky asshole.
But a cocky asshole who was really good in bed.
And now he was here. Not just here—and not here trying to win her over, or even try to get her into bed again—but he was here 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.
Yes, a bomb threat was kind of a big deal. But there was definitely something about him that seemed… wound up. More than she would expect a typical FBI agent to be at a potential victim's house. Especially when all was well. She'd like to think that all law enforcement cared about all victims, but she knew better. If nothing else, they were objective. Spencer Landry did not seem objective right now.
And it was making her heart beat fast.
He seemed legitimately freaked out. He'd used those words. And that was doing something to her. Something stupid.
It was softening her up.
“You're going to stay with me until we find this guy?” She took a deep breath. “This seems like a terrible idea.” An idea that she kind of liked.
Which made it a really terrible idea.
“It makes a lot of sense. You are a target, and the guy is still out there walking around. Until we find him, it makes sense for you to have someone
protecting you.”
“Is this standard operating procedure?”
“I would prefer if you didn't ask me questions like that.”
Well, that wasn’t an answer. “Because it's a secret operating procedure?”
“Because I don't want to answer the question.”
Ah. She had no idea what standard operating procedure for the FBI was in cases like this, but she was not that interested in delving into the details, maybe for the first time in her life. Maybe because she would find out that it𝘸𝘢𝘴 standard procedure. Which would take some of the stomach-flipping-this-is-kind-of-exciting-that-Spencer-wants-to-protect-me stuff away. Or maybe she would find out that it was not standard procedure, which would make things more confusing.
One of the reasons Max was an outstanding investigative journalist was because details were her catnip. She always wanted to know more about every situation. Who, what, when, where, and why were how she lived her life. But she was going to let this one go. That told her a lot about how she felt about Spencer.
“Well, you seem to have a hard time with how I 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 and being close to my bedroom and seeing me in a towel.” She liked all of that. Maybe because seeing Spencer tortured was fun. Maybe because it had been a long time since she’d affected a man who affected her right back. But probably because torturing Spencer was fun. “So this could be awkward,” she pointed out.
“We’re going to Autre,” he said simply.
She frowned and processed his answer. “Autre? Why?”
“Because you don't live there. You're not from there. It would be hard for someone who doesn't know you well to trace you to that town. And because you’ll be surrounded by people I trust implicitly who can help watch your back.”
“I need a whole army of people watching my back?”
“It won't hurt.”
Autre, Louisiana, was a little town down by the bayou. Spencer's family was from there. She wasn’t completely clear on his direct tie to the town, but she knew some of his cousins lived there. She’d met them at the wedding where Spencer had kissed the hell out of her and they'd barely kept their clothes on.
It was only about a twenty-five-minute drive from New Orleans. It was a charming little town, and the people there, especially the Landry family, were an interesting, rowdy, fun, and loving bunch.
Would she feel safe there? Absolutely.
Was this a complete overreaction on Spencer's part? Definitely.
What did it mean that Spencer was overreacting about her safety? She had no idea.
“So we’re going to go to Autre together? Because you think that's the safest place for me to be so that you have help protecting me. And you're going to stay there with me?”
Spencer nodded. “Pretty much.”
“How are you going to work on this case while we’re there?”
“I won't be working on this case. Conflict of interest.”
She frowned. “How is it a conflict of interest?”
“I'm sleeping with the target.”
She ignored the way her pink panties said 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘰! “You are not. You have in the past, but that was before she was a target.”
“I'm going to be staying in very close confines with her.”
“I’m adding presumptuous to your list of character flaws,” Max said dryly.
Get it here!
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Spencer Landry was a lot of things. But simple wasn't one of them. He wasn't easy to define in any way. He had come into her life very unconventionally as the friend and cousin of her best friend's boyfriend. Max and Spencer had had immediate chemistry and a definite flirtation when they'd worked together.
Then they'd gone months before seeing each other again at Charlie and Griffin’s wedding. Where they’d flirted again. There’d been a kiss, and a hot make-out session that probably would've turned into more if he hadn't been too drunk.
Then he’d showed up on her doorstep the next day to apologize for being a cocky asshole. And had further cemented the fact that he was a cocky asshole.
But a cocky asshole who was really good in bed.
And now he was here. Not just here—and not here trying to win her over, or even try to get her into bed again—but he was here 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.
Yes, a bomb threat was kind of a big deal. But there was definitely something about him that seemed… wound up. More than she would expect a typical FBI agent to be at a potential victim's house. Especially when all was well. She'd like to think that all law enforcement cared about all victims, but she knew better. If nothing else, they were objective. Spencer Landry did not seem objective right now.
And it was making her heart beat fast.
He seemed legitimately freaked out. He'd used those words. And that was doing something to her. Something stupid.
It was softening her up.
“You're going to stay with me until we find this guy?” She took a deep breath. “This seems like a terrible idea.” An idea that she kind of liked.
Which made it a really terrible idea.
“It makes a lot of sense. You are a target, and the guy is still out there walking around. Until we find him, it makes sense for you to have someone
protecting you.”
“Is this standard operating procedure?”
“I would prefer if you didn't ask me questions like that.”
Well, that wasn’t an answer. “Because it's a secret operating procedure?”
“Because I don't want to answer the question.”
Ah. She had no idea what standard operating procedure for the FBI was in cases like this, but she was not that interested in delving into the details, maybe for the first time in her life. Maybe because she would find out that it𝘸𝘢𝘴 standard procedure. Which would take some of the stomach-flipping-this-is-kind-of-exciting-that-Spencer-wants-to-protect-me stuff away. Or maybe she would find out that it was not standard procedure, which would make things more confusing.
One of the reasons Max was an outstanding investigative journalist was because details were her catnip. She always wanted to know more about every situation. Who, what, when, where, and why were how she lived her life. But she was going to let this one go. That told her a lot about how she felt about Spencer.
“Well, you seem to have a hard time with how I 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭 and being close to my bedroom and seeing me in a towel.” She liked all of that. Maybe because seeing Spencer tortured was fun. Maybe because it had been a long time since she’d affected a man who affected her right back. But probably because torturing Spencer was fun. “So this could be awkward,” she pointed out.
“We’re going to Autre,” he said simply.
She frowned and processed his answer. “Autre? Why?”
“Because you don't live there. You're not from there. It would be hard for someone who doesn't know you well to trace you to that town. And because you’ll be surrounded by people I trust implicitly who can help watch your back.”
“I need a whole army of people watching my back?”
“It won't hurt.”
Autre, Louisiana, was a little town down by the bayou. Spencer's family was from there. She wasn’t completely clear on his direct tie to the town, but she knew some of his cousins lived there. She’d met them at the wedding where Spencer had kissed the hell out of her and they'd barely kept their clothes on.
It was only about a twenty-five-minute drive from New Orleans. It was a charming little town, and the people there, especially the Landry family, were an interesting, rowdy, fun, and loving bunch.
Would she feel safe there? Absolutely.
Was this a complete overreaction on Spencer's part? Definitely.
What did it mean that Spencer was overreacting about her safety? She had no idea.
“So we’re going to go to Autre together? Because you think that's the safest place for me to be so that you have help protecting me. And you're going to stay there with me?”
Spencer nodded. “Pretty much.”
“How are you going to work on this case while we’re there?”
“I won't be working on this case. Conflict of interest.”
She frowned. “How is it a conflict of interest?”
“I'm sleeping with the target.”
She ignored the way her pink panties said 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘰! “You are not. You have in the past, but that was before she was a target.”
“I'm going to be staying in very close confines with her.”
“I’m adding presumptuous to your list of character flaws,” Max said dryly.
Get it here!
Amz: https://amzn.to/3yxeyNW
Apple: https://apple.co/3sMehDN
nook: https://bit.ly/Gotta-Be-Bayou-nook
Kobo: https://bit.ly/Gotta-Be-Bayou-kobo
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Goodreads: https://bit.ly/Gotta-Be-Bayou-Goodreads
