Read an excerpt from Playing for Keeps by Lisa B. Kamps

/

Tyler Bowie is the serious and focused goalie for the York Bombers. He has his mind on the game and his eye on the future. And he always plays by the rules--until he meets Jennifer Emory, his teammate's sister. What is it about the troubled woman that tempts him to break the biggest rule of all?

Jennifer Emory is looking to start a new life and finds the distraction she needs in Tyler Bowie, her brother's intensely sexy teammate. But the distraction quickly turns to something else. She knows all about the bro code, but there's just something about Tyler that makes her want to take a chance and risk so much more than her brother's ire.

Will the couple find the strength and courage to put it all on the line when love means playing for keeps?

Excerpt

But God, she hated it. Hated running away. Hated having to rely on her brother. Hated feeling like a burden.

Hated knowing that no matter where she went, one tiny little mistake could follow her forever.

She sighed and drew her knees up to her chest. It didn't matter how gorgeous Tyler Bowie was, or how much she was attracted to him, or even if she had a tiny little crush on him. She couldn't allow anything to happen. Not that he was interested but still…no, nothing would happen. He was a hockey player. He was her brother's teammate.

No—no matter how hot Tyler was, it was strictly a case of look but don't touch. She didn't think he was like her ex but she couldn't be sure because she didn't know him that well. And she couldn't trust her own judgement, not anymore. Not after what her ex had done.

Except it had been ten long months and Tyler was so gorgeous. Would it really hurt, just to sample a small taste?

And oh God, what was she thinking? No, absolutely not. She could not think like that, couldn't even afford to pretend to think like that. No matter how much—

She heard the muffled sound of footsteps against the thick carpeting and turned on the sofa, her eyes widening at the sight of Tyler shuffling up the short hall toward her. His thick hair was tousled, his lids half-lowered over dark, sleepy eyes. He paused and ran a hand over his broad chest, which caused the hem of the thin t-shirt to lift. Her mouth dried as she caught a glimpse of smooth skin pulled tight over the hard muscle of defined abs.

Smooth skin broken only by a thin line of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of the loose gym shorts riding low on his lean hips.

Jenny blinked, her face heating as her gaze travelled down his sturdy legs, taking in the long muscles of strong thighs, lightly dusted with dark hair. Even his bare feet were sexy. Since when did she ever notice a man's feet? Since never, that's when.

She tore her gaze away, forcing herself to look anywhere else. At the generic prints scattered on the wall behind him. At the small dinette table with its two chairs and pile of mail sitting on top of a dark green placemat. At the television, its screen now dark because she had turned it off.

Anywhere except at Tyler.

Oh God, she was in so much trouble.

Look but don't touch? No, she couldn't even do that, not when the simple act of just looking made her want to do so much more.

Buy on Amazon | Barnes and Noble

About the Author

Lisa B. Kamps is the author of the best-selling series The Baltimore Banners, featuring "hard-hitting, heart-melting hockey players" [USA Today], on and off the ice. Her Firehouse Fourteen series features hot and heroic firefighters who put more than their lives on the line. She's introduced a whole new team of hot hockey players who play hard and love even harder in her newest series, The York Bombers.

In a previous life, she worked as a firefighter with the Baltimore County Fire Department then did a very brief (and not very successful) stint at bartending in east Baltimore, and finally served as the Director of Retail Operations for a busy Civil War non-profit.

Lisa currently lives in Maryland with her husband and two sons (who are mostly sorta-kinda out of the house), one very spoiled Border Collie, two cats with major attitude, several head of cattle, and entirely too many chickens to count. When she's not busy writing or chasing animals, she's cheering loudly for her favorite hockey team, the Washington Capitals--or going through withdrawal and waiting for October to roll back around!

Connect: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS

Read an excerpt A Most Unlikely Duke by Sophie Barnes

/

He never thought he’d become a duke, or that the secrets of his past will cost him his greatest love...

Raphe Matthews hasn’t stepped foot in polite circles since a tragedy left his once-noble family impoverished and in debt. The bare-knuckle boxer has spent the last fifteen years eking out an existence for himself and his two sisters. But when a stunning reversal of fortunes lands Raphe the title of Duke of Huntley, he’s determined to make a go of becoming a proper lord, but he’ll need a little help and his captivating neighbor might be just the woman for the job…

After her sister’s scandalous match, Lady Gabriella knows the ton’s eyes are on her. Agreeing to tutor the brutish new duke can only lead to ruin. Although she tries to control her irresistible attraction to Raphe, every day she spends with him only deepens her realization that this may be the one man she cannot do without. And as scandal threatens to envelope them both, she must decide if she can risk everything for love with a most unlikely duke.

Excerpt

London, 1818

Thick clouds darkened to shades of gray as they rolled across the London sky. Beneath them, standing in the middle of the Black Swan courtyard, Raphe Matthews drew back his fist, his muscles bunching tightly together—just long enough for him to assess the angle and speed with which to release all that power. Instinct made it a brief calculation. Less than a second, and then he sent his fist flying. The punch snapped his opponent’s face sideways, producing a spray of spit and blood that painted the air with specks of crimson. A cheer erupted from those who’d come to witness the fight—a motley selection of hardened individuals. This place was not for the weak or the wealthy. It reeked of filth and the daily struggle to survive. This was St. Giles, but it might as well have been the bowels of hell for all the difference it made.

“Come on!” someone shouted.

Raphe’s other fist met a hard chest with a crunch. His knuckles ached, the force of the punch vibrating through him.

“Matthews, Matthews, Matthews . . .” The chant shook the air while Raphe shifted his footing, regaining his balance just in time to accept the blows that followed. He didn’t mind, for it only revealed his opponent’s sudden desperation.

Raising his fists to block the attack, Raphe bobbed to the side, turning away, just out of reach. And yet, he was close—so close he could smell the sweat on the other man’s skin, see the fear that shone in his eyes, the beads of moisture clinging to his hair that dripped onto his brow.

More shouts flooded the air, drowning him in a cacophony of unintelligible noise. The wave of encouragement shifted, alerting him that support had changed—no longer in his favor.

Forcing it into the background, Raphe focused on the man he was meant to beat. Today his name was Calvin Butler. Raphe launched himself forward, surrendering to the rage, and let the punches fly, beating back pain and anger until Calvin Butler lay stretched out on the ground, hands covering his face in surrender. A fleeting second of silence passed, just long enough to be sure of the outcome, and then the spectators sent up a roar in response to Raphe’s victory.

Exhausted, he stumbled back, a light drizzle dampening his skin. A coat was draped over his shoulders while Butler was helped to his feet—a sorry sight, with his blackened eye and swollen lip distorting an otherwise handsome face.

Turning away, Raphe pushed his way in the direction of the taproom. All he wanted right now was a drink. Fast.

“Butler ain’t lookin’ too good,” Raphe’s friend, Benjamin Thompson, said as he came up beside him. A couple of inches shorter than Raphe, his green eyes were a handsome complement to his ginger hair and freckles. He was without a doubt the kindest and most dependable person Raphe knew, besides his own sisters. Together, they made their way to the bar, where Ben promptly called for a server. “Give us a couple o’ pints.”Resting his elbows on the counter, Raphe grunted his response to Ben’s question. “He knew what ‘e was in fer.”

Ben nodded. The beer arrived, and both men took a healthy swig. “Ye could ‘ave been gentler, though. The man was done. No need to keep beatin’ at him like that.” Stilling, Raphe slid his gaze toward his friend. “I couldn’t ‘elp it.” The rage had burned its way through him, driving him forward and filling his mind with one singular purpose: The need to win. “I don’t know ‘ow to fight any other way.”

“I know,” Ben said softly. No, you don’t. You have no bloody idea.

In this, he’d never been completely honest, not even with Ben. “In any case, the blunt’s pretty good—lets me keep a roof over me sisters’ heads.”

“Aye, an’ a decent one at that.”

Raphe couldn’t argue. He’d visited Ben’s home once—an overcrowded single room that he shared with his parents and five siblings. By comparison, Raphe and his sisters lived like royalty. “Have ye ever thought of gettin’ out of this place? Out of St. Giles?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders. “An’ go where?”

“Somewhere better. Christ, Ben, anywhere’s betterthan this. Ye’re a likeable man. Ye could probably snatch up a job at one of ’em fancy ‘ouses in Mayfair.”

His friend snorted. “An’ ‘ave some nob lookin’ down on me, demandin’ I polish ‘is boots—or worse, empty ‘is chamber pot? I’d rather stay by the docks, thank ye very much. At least there I can take some pride in me work.”

“Understood. But the pay there’s never goin’ to afford ye with yer own home. Don’t ye wish to marry one day?”

“Sure. But there’s a limit to what I’m willing to do for a bit of blunt, Raphe.” He took another sip of his beer. “I’ll not lose me dignity by workin’ for a class o’ people I can’t abide, nor by lowerin’ meself to doin’ demeanin’ work.”

The words speared Raphe to his soul, filling him with shame. “I know,” he muttered with admiration. If only he could be more like him, not wanting anything beyond what life had tossed his way. Perhaps, if he didn’t have his sisters to consider, he wouldn’t care so much.

Buy on Amazon | Barnes and Noble

About the Author

Born in Denmark, Sophie Barnes spent her youth traveling with her parents to wonderful places all around the world. She's lived in five different countries, on three different continents, and speaks Danish, English, French, Spanish, and Romanian. But, most impressive of all, she's been married to the same man three times—in three different countries and in three different dresses. 
When she's not busy dreaming up her next romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, swimming, cooking, gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading.
 
Connect: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS

Read an excerpt from Three Weeks With a Princess by Vanessa Kelly

/

In Vanessa Kelly s captivating series, three young women are descended from royalty in the most improper way. But that doesn’t stop them from pursuing lives rich in adventure. . . 

Lia Kincaid, illegitimate daughter of the Duke of York, comes from a long line of notorious women. Raised by her grandmother, formerly mistress to the late Marquess of Lendale, she has little hope of a respectable marriage. But the new Marquess, her childhood friend, Jack Easton, would make a very desirable protector . . . if he weren t too honorable to take her to bed. 

It s bad enough being saddled with a title he never desired. Now Jack must resist the beautiful woman he desires far too much. Duty calls, and he is duty-bound to choose a wealthy bride. But then Lia makes another outrageous suggestion: asking Jack to devise some tests to find her the perfect paramour. Tests that involve flirting, kissing, and other pleasurable pursuits. Tests that, in a matter of weeks, could transform friendship into the ton s greatest scandal, igniting a passion even duty can t deny. . . 

Excerpt

They heard a quick footfall out in the hall. A moment later the door opened and Lia rushed in.

“Oh, confound it, Jack,” she said. “I had no idea you were here. I ran down from the big house as soon as Merton told me he’d seen you cutting through the gardens.” She rested a hand on his arm and stretched up on her toes to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “It’s shocking that I wasn’t here to greet you. Please forgive me.”

Jack stared down at her, slightly disoriented, as if someone had given him a knock on the brainbox.

He hadn’t seen her since his uncle’s funeral, when grief and worry had left her pretty face pinched and wan. Enveloped in mourning clothes and heavy shawls to keep out the chill spring rains, Lia had seemed almost like a sad child, sorely in need of a mother’s love and comfort.

Today, though, there was nothing childlike about her, and she was more than merely pretty. His Lia was now full-grown and simply beautiful.

She gazed up at him with peacock-blue eyes alight with affection. Her skin glowed with the warmth of the summer sun and the flush of her exertions. Her enchanting face, with its tip-tilted nose and lush pink mouth, was framed by silky dark hair, some of it falling haphazardly from the simple knot on top of her head. As for her figure, her faded green riding habit with its trim bodice showcased a graceful body that held more than its share of pleasing curves.

When the hell had Lia developed breasts that he actually noticed?

His visits to Stonefell had been rare these last three years, given the fact that he’d spent much of that time on the Continent with the army. In the meantime, his little friend had matured into a woman, with results that were rather astonishing.

And alarming.

Her brow creased and her smile slid into one of perplexity. “Jack, you look as if you don’t know me,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. Then her smile snuffed out completely. “Oh, am I being too familiar?”

She took a quick step back and dipped into a curtsy. “Forgive me, my lord. I let my enthusiasm run away with me.”

Her anxious response jolted him back to himself. He pulled her into a bear hug, all too conscious of how delightful her soft breasts felt against his body.

“Goose, of course not,” he said, planting a brief kiss on the top of her head before letting go. “I was just a bit surprised to see you, that’s all. You’re looking very well, I must say.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a complete plumper. I look a wreck, but I didn’t want to take the time to change and risk missing you.”

Rebecca ran a critical eye over her granddaughter. “You do look rather disheveled, my love. I wasn’t aware you were planning on shoeing the mare yourself, but the soot on the hem of your habit would suggest you were.”

Lia burst into laughter, and the light, clear sound of it loosened the tangled knot in Jack’s chest that had moved in some weeks ago. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed her laughter.

“I know,” she said. “But poor Markwith is so busy these days. I thought I’d help him by taking Dorcas down to the blacksmith and saving him the trouble of the trip.”

Jack mentally grimaced. In the last year his head groom had been forced to let go two stableboys. That Lia was now acting as a stable hand had the knot in his chest twisting tight again.

“I’m sorry, Lia,” he said. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“You know I don’t mind,” she said as she folded herself onto the footstool at her grandmother’s feet. Rebecca reached out to stroke Lia’s thick hair. They were so close. With the death of Jack’s uncle, the two women truly now had only each other.

And him.

“Next time you need something, just tell me,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Her eyebrows arched up. “I will when you’re in residence. But that’s not very often.”

Rebecca gave her an admonishing tap on the shoulder. “That’s no way to speak to his lordship, my love.”

Lia’s eyes rounded with mock horror. “Oh, I do hope I haven’t offended him.” She gave him a comical bow, her nose almost touching the floor. “Forgive my impertinence, Lord Lendale, I beg of you.”

He shook his head. “Brat.”

She grinned. “Sorry, but I can’t help teasing. It’s just so good to see you.” She glanced over her shoulder at Rebecca. “We missed him greatly, did we not, Granny?”

Buy on Amazon | Barnes and Noble

About the Author

Vanessa Kelly is a USA Today Bestselling, award-winning author who was named by Booklist, the review journal of the American Library Association, as one of the “New Stars of Historical Romance.”  Her Regency-set historical romances have been nominated for awards in a number of contests, and her second book, Sex and The Single Earl, won the prestigious Maggie Medallion for Best Historical Romance. 

Vanessa’s previous series, The Renegade Royals, was a national bestseller. She is currently writing a spin-off series called The Improper Princesses. My Fair Princess, book 1, was named a Goodreads Romance of the Month. Vanessa also writes USA TodayBestselling books with her husband, under the pen name of V.K. Sykes. 

Connect:  WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS

Read an excerpt from Something Borrowed by Megan Ryder

/

Three Bridesmaids. Three lost loves. One matchmaking bride. With just a week before the wedding, can a bride-to-be reunite her bridesmaids with the ones who got away?

Brigid Anderson is a second year lawyer on a fast track to making partner. With the weight of her siblings' success on her shoulders, Brigid feels like she needs to prove something–to herself and to her parents. Her life is running smoothly and all according to plan...until she meets Grady.

Grady Coughlin understands focus and ambition, having taken over his father's contracting business and building it into a successful historic preservation business on his own. After a blind date with Brigid that ends in explosive passion, they embark on a friends with benefits relationship. But as Grady establishes himself in the business world, he decides he wants more and wants it with Brigid.

On the eve of her best friend's wedding, with her promotion to partner dangling within reach, Brigid believes Grady isn't the best partner to suit her career ambition. But Grady and her heart don't agree and she must decide if she should stick to the safety of the plan or find the courage to pursue what she really wants

Excerpt

He drew his hands up her back, pulling her shirt with them, up and over her head, so she sat there clad only in a red lace bra. He groaned. "Damn, that's a fine sight, Brigid. I thought you said you didn't pack any lingerie."

"I said I didn't pack any sexy nighties. I never said anything about bras or matching panties."

His head thudded against the sofa cushions even as one hand delved beneath her jeans to cup her ass and stroke the red lace that barely covered her. "Oh shit, that's fucking amazing."

She smirked. "Red is your favorite color, isn't it?"

"Anything you wear is my favorite," was his fervent reply.

He tugged her head back down for a kiss. She buried her fingers in his hair, holding him steady for her lips. She tasted of beer, barbecue and sweet wild Brigid, a taste he could get addicted to so easily. He flicked the back clasp on her bra and it gapped open. He pulled the straps off her shoulders until it sagged between them. He cupped one of her breasts, lifting it to his mouth to suck the nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Brigid's head fell back with a low groan and she arched into his grasp. He plied the other sensitive tip with his fingers, twisting and tugging until she writhed on his lap, pleading for relief.

He chuckled against her skin and switched breasts, torturing the other the same way. She held his head tightly, fingers flexing in his scalp, kneading and massaging, her nails pricking his skin. He lifted her effortlessly and placed her on the sofa behind him. He stripped off his clothes quickly then her jeans, leaving the red panties.

He kneeled in front of her and stroked a finger over the seam of the red lace. "That's a pretty sight, Brigid. Sexy as hell."

And he pressed a kiss right to the center of the soaked lace. She arched her back with a choked cry then settled back against the cushions, moaning. His erection was like a steel spike but he had to taste her, had to explore her just a little. He pulled the lace aside and licked a path through her wet center, curling his tongue around her nub at the apex. She shouted at the contact, her hips arching and twisting. He grabbed them in his hands, holding her firmly in place while he settled in for a feast, licking, sucking, biting. Soon she was crying out loud, begging, pleading for relief. Finally, she came with a scream.

He stood and grabbed his jeans, pulling out the condom he had stashed there when she had shown up earlier. He sheathed himself and adjusted her so he was positioned at her entrance. He stroked her cheek lightly until she opened her eyes and smiled.

"Ready, Brigid?"

Before she could respond, he drove home with a slow, steady thrust deep inside to the hilt until he was balls deep in her. He paused once he was fully seated, his forehead against hers, sweat dripping off of him. She stroked his back lightly, and wrapped her legs around his waist, moving her hips against his in an insistent motion.

Obligingly, he began to move slowly, steadily even as she begged him to go faster. Quickly, though, his thrusts were deeper, harder, and she clenched around him, crying out her orgasm. He followed her over, sagging on the couch, only the sound of the wind, rain and their heavy breathing to be heard.

Buy on Amazon | Barnes and Noble

About the Author

Ever since Megan Ryder discovered Jude Deveraux and Judith McNaught while sneaking around the “forbidden” romance section of the library one day after school, she has been voraciously devouring romance novels of all types. Now a romance author in her own right, Megan pens sexy contemporary novels all about family and hot lovin’ with the boy next door. She lives in Connecticut, spending her days as a technical writer and her spare time divided between her addiction to knitting and reading.

Connect:  WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | GOODREADS

Spotlight: Martinis & Moonlight by Andrea Johnston

/

Minnesota “Minnie” Walker has worked hard for the life she has – a close knit family, successful career, and long-term relationship. When a tragedy strikes, Minnie sacrifices everything to be there for her family. Never expecting a move to the small town of Lexington would change the course of her future, Minnie finds herself wondering if what she always thought was perfect is really what’s best for her … and her heart.
 
Owen Butler has lived in the town of Lexington his entire life. After years of feeling second best and wasting his time vying for the attention of his father, Owen has settled into an uncomplicated life. Not one to believe in happily ever after, he never expected the new woman in town to have him questioning everything he thought he wanted in life.
 
Together, under the rays of the moonlight, Owen and Minnie find themselves wondering what the future holds and if facing it together is worth the risk.

Excerpt

This week has been particularly quiet in the office, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’d even take an encounter with Owen at this point. Yep, be careful what you wish for.

The door to the office opens and I sense him before I hear him. Maybe it’s that I smell him. Not smell in a gross way, but a way that is like some weird mating call. I’m sure there’s a name for that but I can’t think of it because there he is, walking toward me in a pair of khaki cargo shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt that, thanks to the sweat on his body, is clinging to his torso and chiseled chest, and a pair of sunglasses sitting atop his head. That smile I mentioned taking over his face as he gets closer to my desk has me quickly looking away in embarrassment. I know he can tell that he affects me. I know my tell-tale giveaway to embarrassment has completely taken over my arms, neck, and cheeks in a glorious shade of strawberry.

“Well, Miss Walker, fancy meeting you here.”

“Oh, hey.” I don’t take my eyes from my screen and very diligently read the same line over and over. Why does he make me nervous? I don’t get nervous.

“Here are some invoices for you and I signed off on the time cards for my crew.”

I finally lift my eyes from my screen to see Owen sitting in the chair in front of my desk, leaning back so he is rocking on the back two legs of the chair, with his arms crossed, and a smirk on his face. The same smirk he usually offers me before not so subtlety suggesting something flirtatious.

“Thanks. Checks will be ready Monday as usual. Was there anything else?”

“What’re your plans this weekend? Date with your boyfriend? Painting your nails with the squirt?”

Clicking the save icon on the spreadsheet I’m working on, I sit back in my seat, crossing my feet at the ankle while folding my arms, and contemplating how to answer this. He’s trying to get to know me and I promised myself I’d be open to new friendships. Owen Butler is a lot of things, and while I’m not sure he’s completely harmless, I doubt he’s much more than talk.

“No boyfriend,” I casually respond before whispering under my breath, “anymore.”

“What? Some schmuck let you go? What a loser.”

I snort out a laugh; I guess my whisper was louder than I thought. The more I’ve thought about my relationship with Kent, the more appropriate a word like “schmuck” is a perfect way to describe him. Boring, self-absorbed, career driven, and missionary style are also other ways.

“Well anyway, I’m actually going to just hang out this weekend. The girls are going with my parents and it’ll be the first time in weeks I’ve had time to myself. How about you? Got a date?”

Owen chokes on what I think was supposed to be a laugh, startling me a little while simultaneously sending a little shiver down my spine to my lady bits. His voice is deep and gravelly, as is his attempt to laugh, almost like he doesn’t do it very often and his vocal cords don’t know how to respond.

“Yeah, I don’t date. Hook up maybe, but dating indicates I’m interested in a relationship and that’s not the case.” 

“I hear ya. A relationship is the last thing on my mind these days.”

We sit in silence for a few ticks before Owen clears his throat and rests his chair on all four feet. I follow suit by sitting up more in my chair and grabbing my mouse. A few clicks and Owen stands and then taps the top of my monitor.

“You should call the girls.”

I look up at him, slightly confused, but not before acknowledging the sweat has dried from his torso while his shirt still clings to his skin. He must notice my gaze has lingered a little longer than necessary because he offers me that smirk again.

“Sorry, the girls - Piper and Ashton. Me and the guys are heading to the lake for a little fishing so I’m sure they’re around.”

“Oh." The realization of how much my life has changed in the last few months struck me; when he said “the girls,” I thought of my nieces. "Yeah, uh, maybe.”

“Well, all right then. Have a good weekend, Minnesota. See ya next week.”

I don’t bother asking Owen to not call me by my full name. I know he knows it’s not my preference. And honestly, for whatever reason, it doesn’t bother me when he says it. I would never tell him that, but it’s true.

Buy on Amazon | Barnes and Noble

About Andrea Johnston

Andrea Johnston spent her childhood with her nose in a book and a pen to paper. An avid people watcher, her mind is full of stories that yearn to be told.  A fan of angsty romance with a happy ending, super sexy erotica and a good mystery, Andrea can always be found with her Kindle nearby fully charged.
 
Andrea lives in Idaho with her family and two dogs.  When she isn’t spending time with her partner in crime aka her husband, she can be found binge watching all things Bravo and enjoying a cocktail. Nothing makes her happier than the laughter of her children, a good book, her feet in the water, and cocktail in hand all at the same time.

Connect: Website | Facebook | Goodreads | Twitter

Spotlight: Just the Thing by Marie Harte

/

A FLING MIGHT BE JUST THE THING…

Gavin Donnigan left the Marine Corps a shell of a man, hounded by guilt for deaths he couldn’t prevent. But teaching a self-defense class at the local gym brings some stability to his life—along with a gorgeous leggy woman who won’t give him the time of day.
 
Zoe York lost her twin sister to a freak car accident a few months ago. She’s been struggling to bury her grief, but it isn’t until she signs up for a self-defense class with its distractingly hot instructor that she begins to come out of her shell again. With the memory of her sister telling her to live a little, Zoe decides a fling with buns-of-steel Gavin Donnigan might be just the thing.
 
Soon they’re sparring both in and out of the gym. And for the first time in a long time, each is looking forward to tomorrow.

Excerpt

“Tell me more about the Donnigans. You were pretty close-mouthed yesterday.”

“Only because you wouldn’t stop talking about dirt.” He ate some pizza, disturbed to find his appetite off. Being so close to Zoe, all he could taste was the memory of her lips. Man, what a crock. Had he told Ava he didn’t want sex with Zoe? Right now he had a difficult time concentrating on anything but her fine, fine body. Her scent, the sound of her strong voice. The mouthwatering breasts pressed against the thin T-shirt she wore.

Zoe put the pizza back down on her plate. “Is that right? As I recall, you wouldn’t stop asking me stupid questions about what to do with that dirt. I mean, who doesn’t know what a trowel is?”

“It’s a mini shovel. Why make things complicated?”

“Because they just come that way.”

“Huh?”

“Complicated.” She shrugged and ate, so he continued talking before she blasted him for being ignorant about zone types.

“What about your family?”

“We’re not done with yours yet.”

“What else do you want to know?”

She crossed her eyes, and even purposefully looking goofy, she was beautiful. “Okay, it’s like this. Example: Well, Gavin, my family is pretty tight. My mom and dad live in Portland, and I see them once a month at least. Mom is an artist. Dad owns a natural foods shop. My mom and aunt are twins, which explains how Aubrey and I are twins. I mean, were twins.”

She swallowed but forced herself to look him straight in the eye. He could see so much pain in hers. “Aubrey was in a car accident back in January, and she didn’t make it.”

Hell. When she’d told him there had been a death in the family, he hadn’t made the connection to her twin. That seriously sucked.

“I’m sorry.”

She nodded, seemed to shake it off, and continued. “I work for a major medical group, where I train users on the software the medical staff uses. It’s fun. I’m good at it, and life is great.”

“Well. That was concise.”

She grinned, showing a lot of teeth. “Yes, it was.” She took a large swallow of beer, which physically hurt Gavin to see—her lips wrapped around a phallic-looking object.

He glanced down at his pizza and forced himself to take another bite.

“Now it’s your turn.”

He swallowed and chased the pizza with half his bottle of root beer. “Nice brew. Tastes great.”

“Thank you.”

“Now that I’ve been properly schooled in how to respond to your question—and see, I can totally tell you’re an educator—my family is filled with driven people. My mom is a real estate agent who hates to lose. She’s damn good at her job too. My dad works at a pharmaceutical company. Did twenty years in the Navy, retired, then went to work in the civilian sector and is a bigwig at his firm. I give it another five years until he retires, then spends all his time cooking or playing golf.”

“Cooking?”

“He’s an amazing cook. Always makes our dinners, or did when we were kids. He still dotes on my mom, which is nice. God knows Linda can be a handful.”

She stared, all that feminine energy focused on him, and it made him warm inside. Like, freakin’ hot. He reconsidered his option about bending her over the couch…

“Go on.”

Head out of the gutter, Gavin! “Landon you know. He works out to stay in shape. Medically retired from the Marine Corps after a bullet hit him in the knee and messed him up. Now he’s a manager at some logistics firm bossing people around.”

“That would suit him.”

He shared a grin with her. The kitchen felt intimate, just the two of them standing at the counter and eating. “Hope works for my cousin at his private finance company. Cam is smart and obnoxious, but he takes care of my baby sister. Plus he’s the easiest of my cousins to tolerate.”

“Your cousins?”

“Yeah, my mom’s sister and her husband live in town. She’s got four boys. I spent my childhood with Landon competing to be better than Aunt Beth’s crew. Well, technically only three are Aunt Beth’s, but they took Brody in when he was little. He’s just as annoying as the others. A real McCauley.”

“Wow. Big family.”

He nodded. “So where was I? Oh right. Theo. My poor baby brother isn’t sure what he wants to do now that he’s out of high school. I think he wants to join the Corps, but with Landon and me coming back kind of screwed up, he’s not sure.”

She studied him. “You’re screwed up?”

She had no idea. And he wanted to keep it that way. “I was shot and medically retired from the Marine Corps too. Saw some shit overseas. Not good. Anyhow, it’s done. So I’m back here, trying to figure out what to do. I work at the gym because it de-stresses me and I’m good at it. Being physical, I mean.”

Before he could fall into the memories, Zoe distracted him. “Oh, I bet you’re good at being physical. Or so I’ve heard from Michelle and Megan. And a few others.”

He flushed. “Yeah, well, I made some dumb choices when I first got back. I drank a little too much, so I don’t like to drink anymore.”

“Are you an alcoholic?”

“Didn’t you just minutes ago yell at me for asking your aunt blunt questions?”

“I didn’t yell.”

“It felt like it.”

“Yeah, but I’m mean and aggressive, remember?”

“There is that.” He took another swig of root beer, grinning. “No, I’m not an alcoholic. But the fact I was starting to drink too much scared the crap out of me. Now I stay away from it. I don’t want my thinking impaired. So yeah, no drugs either. And no cigarettes. I have no vices.”

“Except your poor taste in women.” She paused. “Present company excluded.”

“Oh, that was a nice add-on.”

“I thought so.” She smirked.

He couldn’t help it. He put down his root beer, took her beer from her hand, and caged her against the counter.

“Gavin, what are you doing?” she sounded breathy. Aroused.

Lord knew he was.

“I just need one kiss. Then we can go watch the movie. Okay?”

“O-one. I guess.” She licked her lips.

He leaned down, feathered his breath over her mouth, and kissed her. The taste of warm beer and woman went right to his head, making him drunk on her in a way he’d only ever felt with Zoe. The kiss last night hadn’t done them justice. This one just…

He slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss when she put her hands on his waist and tugged him closer. She had to be feeling him hard and thick against her, but she only gripped his belt loops and refused to let go.

Zoe participated in everything. She followed his lead, stroked his tongue with hers, and shoved those amazing breasts against his chest. Nothing with her was tentative or half done. She gave him a full-body kiss that threatened to undo him the longer it lasted.

Gavin yanked his head back and leaned his forehead against hers, trying to regain his control. Right now, his body screamed at him to satisfy his needs by sinking inside her. She’d be hot, tight, wet.

But his brain warned him to slow down. To not rush or scare her, because they had so much more to share.

And his heart…the damn thing did nothing but race in his chest and ache for a woman he still barely knew. Except he felt like he knew everything about her. Which made no sense.

He pulled back and met her gaze. She seemed as bewildered and turned on as he was.

He had to do something, or he feared listening all too well to his baser instincts.

“So no sex tonight, right?” His thick voice attested to his desire. “Bending you over the couch is a no-no?”

She blinked, blushed, and scowled. Instead of berating him for being crude, she yanked him back for a kiss that about blew his mind—and his balls clean off. “Nope. Not even close.”

She was breathing hard, her eyes straying to his mouth time and again, her hands still clutching his sweater. She stroked his chest, brushing her hands over his tight nipples.

“Not even close,” he agreed. “Not thinking about it at all.”

“Not at all.”

And they both knew they were lying.

Buy on Amazon | Barnes and Noble