Rosalind Palmer was blessed with the perfect stage name. Or so she’s been told. There are just a few problems with it:
1) Her family doesn’t know she’s a stripper
2) She’d like to keep it that way
3) She got over the nickname somewhere around seventh grade.
Unfortunately—because she likes her job and she really likes her independence—her unexpected pregnancy means Rosalind’s days on a pole are numbered. Even so, she's determined to make this co-parenting thing work.
Joey Marshall never thought much about having kids until he got the text announcing his impending fatherhood. Now it’s all he can think about. But there are a few concerns:
1) He doesn't know anything about babies.
2) Adulting usually leads to disaster.
3) It’s his best friend’s cousin he knocked up.
First things first, making sure his baby’s mama is in this for the long haul. Because now he's got baby on the brain, he can't wait to make this co-parenting thing into so much more.
Now all he has to do is convince Rosalind, which shouldn't be too hard . . . right?
Join us at Weight Expectations. You never know what to expect.
'Weights of Wrath' is a full-length contemporary romance, and can be read as a standalone. Book #4 in the Cipher Office series, Seduction in the City World, Penny Reid Book Universe.
My door opens quietly, and I immediately sit up, knowing there’s only one person it could be.
“Rosalind? Are you okay?”
Seeing me awake, she quickly slips in and shuts the door behind her. Her long legs are bare, ass barely hidden by an oversized t-shirt that’s sliding off one shoulder. Her hair is pulled up so I can see the gracefulness of her neck. She looks beautiful in the moonlight and I can’t help wondering if this is a good time to finally kiss her again.
But no. We need to build a solid relationship. I don’t want to pressure her into anything she’s not ready for.
Gliding up to my bed, she pulls the covers back. “Move over.”
“What?” Okay, I don’t think she’s ready for anything sexual, but now I’m not so sure.
She sighs sounding as exhausted as my body feels. “My bed is uncomfortable. And my room has shitty ventilation. I am the baby mama. Move over.”
“Isn’t it the same bed you’ve been sleeping on for years? Suddenly, it’s uncomfortable?” I poke playfully. Really I don’t mind her being in here. I just can’t resist the chance to see the fire in her eyes.
“I don’t make my body hurt,” she retorts as she slides under the sheets. “I just try to accommodate whatever it wants right now.”
Admittedly, she’s not wrong. I got a preview of her mattress when I flopped down on it after moving it up two flights of stairs. It is pretty shitty. “Okay.” I move out of the middle and onto the far side of the bed as she moans her appreciation for a quality pillowtop. I may not be domestic at all, but a man knows the benefit of a good night’s sleep after a hard day at the gym. Still, I’m not positive of her intentions, and she’s been staring in my dreams for weeks now, so I need to clear something up.
“Does this mean we get to have sex now?”
Rosalind snorts a laugh and punches the pillow as she settles in. “No.”
“What? You’re moving into my bed, and I don’t get any of the benefits?” I joke back.
“You get the benefit of my presence and knowing your baby and I are both getting a good night’s rest.”
She’s got me there. At this point, their safety and well-being are my biggest priorities. I suddenly understand why Abel is such a worry wart when I babysit.
Don’t give her too much sugar, Joey.
Don’t let her stay up too late, Joey.
Don’t burn the house down trying to cook spaghetti, Joey.
One time. It was one time that I blew up the spaghetti pot.
I make a quick mental note never to make spaghetti around my child.
“Hey, Rosalind?” I clasp my hands behind my head, staring up at the ceiling again.
“Hmm.”
“Are you nervous?”
She takes a deep breath, and I get the feeling she’s been up all night, wrestling with her thoughts, too. “About which part?”
“I think… maybe, all of it?”
Rosalind rolls over, putting her hands under her cheek as she stares me dead in the eye. “I’m terrified. What if I’m not cut out for this, Joey?”
“What do you mean? I saw you with Mabel and Ainsley at Thanksgiving. They love you. You’re a natural with kids.”
“Mabel and Ainsley are easy,” she retorts. “I smile and laugh and talk to them like real people. I don’t have to keep them alive. I don’t know how to keep a baby alive.”
Shit. She’s right. “Neither do I.”
We lie there some more, lost in our own thoughts again. I’m so excited to become a dad and I’m equally as terrified, which is such a weird feeling. There is so much that can go wrong. So much I don’t know how to do yet. So much to expect that I haven’t even thought of. Babysitting Mabel and Ainsley is easy. Pop in a Wii game and let them go nuts. But a baby? That’s a whole different thing I’ve never done before.
Whoever wrote the blurb for this book is a genius. As soon as I read it, I had to get my hands on this book. It sounded funny and unique, and I went into it with this idea of how I thought it was going to play out and from the first chapter it kept me guessing. Because I was wrong and yet I was right. It was funny, yet serious and it treated the whole thing maturely but with some laugh out loud moments.
Rosalind was a little crabby and standoffish, but she had a lot going on and throw in some pregnancy hormones and I understood her crankiness. Especially having experience with a whoops baby, it’s a weird mix of emotions. And I was lucky enough not to have the added stress of an undefined relationship with my baby daddy.
Joey made the whole book for me. He was so sweet, he reminded me of a big over excited puppy. He was just so lovable and everything he did was done with such pure motivation. He even took Rosalind’s crabby attitude in stride and just tried harder to make things easier for her. I adored him. From the first moment he was everything you could ask for in this situation. He made me laugh at his antics and he had such a positive sunny attitude it was hard not to love him.
Thankfully, Rosalind agreed with me and couldn’t resist his charms and all the effort he put into making it all work for them all. Rosalind’s family was funny and added a lot of depth to the story. I really enjoyed this and I kind of wish I had read the other books in the series, not because this wasn’t an awesome standalone but because I got a few little snippets about the earlier couples and they sounded fun. And I have a new author to stalk. YAY
Mia knows stress. She’s dealt with it her whole life. So when she gets an opportunity to run a psychology study to help her get into grad school, it should be no problem dealing with the prickly guy she suddenly finds herself paired with.
The one she had a secret crush on last year. The one who refuses to let anyone close. The one she’s discovering by the day may have a softer side than he lets anyone else see…
Tyler knows stress. He’s grappled with it for as long as he can remember. And just because he has to share credit with this girl on his new psychology study doesn’t mean he has to be friends with her. Except she somehow keeps worming her way into his life. In school. In the boxing gym.
In his bed.
But everyone knows it’s safer to keep to yourself. You can't hurt anyone that way. Even if it means giving up the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
As things heat up in the Stress Lab, will this match be able to work together without disruption, or will this growing attraction between them eventually... combust?
'Under Pressure ' is a full-length new adult contemporary romance and can be read as a standalone. Book #1 in the Lessons Learned series, Educated Romance World, Penny Reid Book Universe.
“Close your eyes,” he says in that beautifully deep voice, “and take a deep breath. Focus on relaxing each muscle of your body and slowing your breaths. Inhale and exhale with me.” He counts to three steadily, bringing air in, then releases it on the same count of three.
I do all I can to concentrate on his words, the rhythm of it more than anything else, just trying to get out of my own mind. If I can just breathe with him, everything will be okay. This crushing weight will release.
I clutch at his arms like he’s a lifeline and he lets me, wrinkling the sleeves of his soft cotton shirt, taking in shaky breaths next to his strong ones.
We continue that way for long minutes until it’s safe for me to open my eyes, my chest finally rising and falling in an even tempo. My lashes and cheeks are still wet as I look up at him and he slowly brings a hand up to wipe the moisture away, his thumb featherlight on my skin.
He moves to tuck an errant curl behind my ear, brushing my neck as his hand wanders down, leaving shivers in its wake, then cups the back of my head, cradling it tenderly. The warmth of his fingers relaxes the muscles there, even more so when he gently massages the area, loosening the still lingering tension.
He’s silent, his eyes flicking back and forth between my eyes and mouth, and it takes me a moment to realize what he’s signaling. I’m unable to move, to think, to focus on anything but his face gradually coming closer.
I shut my eyes at the first gentle press of his lips. I didn’t know he was capable of such softness, such tenderness. My stomach dips in anticipatory delight as his other hand slides into my hair, holding me more securely to him as he moves his head a fraction, changing the angle of the kiss so it’s deeper now, but still just as slow and exquisitely soft.
I sway toward him, relaxing my hold on his shirt, kissing him back with enthusiasm. I had no idea he felt this way, that he likes me—
A sharp burst of laughter from the hallway outside the lab has us breaking apart, like we were caught doing something wrong...
"Street Smart is a laugh-out-loud, hand-over-heart swoon fest that will have you cheering for the good guy to get it all in the end. One of my favorite reads of the year!" -Bestselling Author Ginger Scott
Street Smart, an all-new workplace romantic comedy from Aly Stiles, is now available in Kindle Unlimited!
What could go wrong—four words MBA student Marcos Oliveira ignored when he accepted a prestigious internship at Reedweather Media, a subsidiary of the legendary Sandeke Telecom empire.
What did go wrong? Everything.
And when Marcos stumbles upon incriminating documents that signal corporate espionage against Sandeke’s son Martin, he suspects his strange intern wormhole has just exploded into chaos. When his alluring boss Eva draws him in to thwart the plot, he knows it.
After spending their lives overcoming adversity, can Marcos and Eva handle this latest threat? Even more perilous might be their losing battle against forbidden attraction.
His Ivy League education didn’t prepare him for spy games and illicit flames. Good thing he has the street smarts to work for it.
'Street Smart' is a full-length workplace romantic comedy and can be read as a standalone. Book #1 in the Work For It series, Educated Romance World, Penny Reid Book Universe.
Download your copy today!
Amazon: US | UK | CA | AU | Print
Audiobook: Coming Soon!
Excerpt
We straighten in alarm at the click of the lock on the main door. Crap! On instinct, I yank his shirt to pull him to the far end of the closet-like room and shove him behind one of the giant racks. Here’s to hoping whoever this person is doesn’t need to access whatever this thing is.
The clatter of the door closing, followed by the squeak of sneakers on the floor tell us someone entered, but we can’t see them through the wall of computer junk obstructing our view. This also means they can’t see us, so yay for that.
Initially, adrenaline keeps my attention fixed on the action at the other side of the room. Soon, though, hormones interrupt our regularly scheduled caper to parade neon signs of awareness that I’m pressed tightly against Marcos Oliveira. Yes, my brilliant, urgent spy maneuver was to crush him into the wall. To press my body against his in an invisible cocoon of stealth. Except this cocoon is suddenly hot. And hard. And electrified with the current of a thousand server racks. It’s inhabited by a sun god who stares down at me with blistering, intelligent eyes and full, tempting lips. Those lips spread into a smile—nay—a challenge, when they catch me gawking. An I-dare-you-not-to-touch-me-right-now message. His hard chest joins the taunt, molding solid muscle to my soft curves. His hips, gah, I can’t decline that invitation. It’s not my fault. They just—react, aligning with his of their own accord. And when his chest swells with a labored inhale at the friction, a shudder runs through me. My hands don’t know what to do either, and soon they’re exploring belt loops at his lower back. Fingers coil around fabric, hooking in until they have no choice but to pull our hips into a firmer embrace. His eyes clench shut, his breathing rapid like mine. His heart—I can feel the raging pulse, or maybe that’s mine. Where does he end and I begin right now? We’re not ourselves. We’ve melded into that new entity—that throbbing, scorching cocoon. My lips burn with a hunger to explore his neck. I grip the belt loops tighter, needing to breathe soon so I don’t lose control of a gasp and give us away.
Somehow, I manage to break one hand away, but it gets sidetracked on the return journey. Instead of safety, it seeks his chest, palm opening wide for a full, greedy experience as it slides from his waist, up solid, mouth-watering planes. My touch absorbs his heat as it travels, tingling from the contrast of the soft fabric of his shirt and the hard angles of muscle beneath. I take extra time exploring his pecs, sinking in and enjoying the way his breathing changes as I rake his skin with my nails. My hand should stop when it reaches his collar, but it doesn’t. No, it keeps moving, skimming over his neck and curving behind until my fingers tangle in his hair. My thumb glides over light stubble, locking below his jaw and angling his perfect face right where I want it. Where I need it as I lick my lips and stare at his mouth. My genius stripper intern who couldn’t be more accessible and forbidden in this moment.
“No freaking way,” a voice echoes through the room.
Marcos and I snap our gazes toward the sound. Neither of us move as we wait, our breaths coming heavy from fear now, in addition to desire. Gosh, this is pretty much the most addicting sensation I’ve ever experienced. No wonder James Bond is a thing.
About Aly Stiles
From angsty and dark to snort-laugh funny, Aly writes romance from her soul to yours.
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There is no such thing as luck.
Roxy Kincaid isn’t a biker chick anymore. She’s made herself more than Jethro Winston’s castoff, and she’s never going back to her old life with the Iron Wraiths. But one summer night, a charming stranger threatens to sweep Roxy off her feet. Ignoring fate and their instant attraction, she has to get back to her real life in Green Valley. He couldn’t be the one that she wants when he’s exactly the thing that could ruin everything. If only she could stop thinking about him.
Luck is everything.
Sanders Olsson is going to fix his mistakes. He’s determined to show his best friend he’s a reliable business partner not the distracted flake he’s been lately. But he has to listen when the universe brings him a sign in the form of a guarded beauty he can’t keep his eyes off. Their instant connection is almost magical but she leaves without giving him even a last name. When fate gives Sanders a second chance in life and love, he sets out for Green Valley without a backward glance.
Their summer lovin’ happened so fast but what will it take to make it last?
‘The One That I Want’ is a full-length contemporary romance and can be read as a standalone. Book #3 in the Scorned Women’s Society series, Green Valley Chronicles, Penny Reid Book Universe.
“Watch it,” I mumbled as I was steadied by strong hands on my shoulders. Then I remembered to be nice and tried to scoot to the side.
The arms held me gently in place. When I looked up, glaring pointedly, he dropped them. It was Mr. Eye Contact from across the room. A little thrill tickled the back of my knees. He was damn fine this close up. Not my taste, but definitely a certain appeal. Like, if I wanted to know someone with a yacht to “summer on,” he’d be my type.
His eyes were startlingly blue. His hair was this dark shade of blond, thick waves swept back with lighter tips that looked as though it had been bleached naturally by the sun. A smile quirked his mouth and my focus moved there. He had soft crinkles around the corners of his eyes and a natural tan that spoke of time outside.
He said something with the tilt of his head and a soft smile on his lips. I blinked away, wondering if my mouth had been hanging open catching flies as I took him in.
“What?” I yelled and pointed to my ear. The band had just started back up.
His smile grew to expose that two front teeth protruded just a little. It was a disarmingly charming flaw, like a puppy with just one floppy ear. His gaze moved over the exposed skin of my neck and shoulders under my tank top, seemingly studying the tattoos.
I wasn’t knocking my edgy looks, but I typically didn’t attract men who could have been plucked straight from an Ivy League fraternity mixer. At least the collar of his black button-up wasn’t popped. And he wore nice sneakers and jeans, not boat shoes and pink shorts. Okay, so he wasn’t preppy per se, but squeaky? Like he’d hurt my teeth to take a bite out of. He didn’t even have a beard, for crying out loud. Not to box this guy in, but guys like this did not go for girls like me. Then again, sometimes there were the guys who liked to “slum it” with the easy small-town girls from Green Valley.
Mr. Eye Contact leaned closer. He smelled like a shower after a hard workout. It was like the cleansing smell of a spring morning after working all night at the Dragon Bar. My jaw was clenched tight, thinking about taking a bite out of him again.
“Dance?” he asked. His voice had a rich and deep timbre that sent a tiny shudder down my spine.
His confidence was sexy without being overwhelming. He tucked his hands deep into his pockets and waited patiently as I took him in, studying him head to toe. There was no pressure in his question. I suspected if I said no, he’d walk away without another word. I told myself I wanted to dance alone but suddenly I wasn’t so sure. Wouldn’t it be nice to have hands on me? Wouldn’t it be an escape to just be a woman dancing with a man to good music?
Shocking myself, I realized I was interested. So I felt a zing for this man? It didn’t mean anything. It meant that my warning system wasn’t going off. It meant that I was a person who wanted to dance. It didn’t have to mean anything.
He extended his hand. I bit my lip. I was here to celebrate my hard work. It was one night before an early flight home tomorrow.
“What the hell?” I said unheard in the club.
I slid my hand into his. His hand was not the buttery-soft warmth of an Ivy Leaguer. His hand was calloused and hot. What might it feel like to have those rough palms gripping the tender skin of my hips?
He pulled me only long enough to let me pass, then he let me lead the way to the floor. As I made my way to the other dancers, I felt his gaze on my backside like the vibration of a motorcycle. I risked a glance over my shoulder. His focus returned to mine as he licked his bottom lip.
“Lord, help me,” I mumbled to myself.
Good thing it was just one night and just one dance. This guy would be way too easy to fall for. But what could one dance with a stranger hurt?
Librarian Maxine Peters lives her life behind the scenes. By day, she’s a buttoned-up cataloguing whiz in the basement of the Green Valley Public Library. By night, she’s secretly dominating in an online role playing game as the legendary Maximus_Damage. Her in-game persona has the skills to back up the hype. But every hero has an enemy; every saga, a villain. And by her own invitation, Maximus’ arch nemesis, Wrath, has just landed in Green Valley.
Jonathan Owen is not at all who Maxine expects when she meets Wrath face to face. Eager to leave the past in the game, Jonathan takes this golden opportunity to win Maxine’s heart. There’s just one wrench in that plan: he may have, on a few occasions, acted like a bit of a jerk online. And to his puzzlement, she has taken their fun rivalry to the level of epic dislike.
When Jonathan and Maxine are unexpectedly alone for a weekend, secrets are revealed that make love hard and hatred even harder. Jonathan quickly learns fighting his own demons will take more than one elite gamer. And Maxine, who is busy rebooting her life in Green Valley, might not be up to the task.
When real life starts to override the game, can Maxine and Jonathan find a way to make it work? Or will it be game over for this player versus player adventure?
Dewey Belong Together’ is a full-length contemporary romance and can be read as a standalone. Book #7 in the Green Valley Library series, Green Valley Chronicles, Penny Reid Book Universe.
After the group sang and twanged through a ton of damn fine bluegrass, the crowd began to thin a bit, and the banjo player declared the quartet was retiring for the evening. Max grabbed my arm and gracelessly hauled me through the audience toward the banjo player.
Our arms still linked, and with a megawatt smile on her face, she shouted, "Cletus! That was incredible tonight."
“It was, man. You’ve got a great sound,” I offered.
Cletus looked from Max, to our joined arms, again at me, and then back at Max. I didn’t want to engage in stereotypical jealous guy behavior, but I did want to sniff out who this Cletus was to her. What had he done to earn her smiles and respect?
“Thank you,” he replied, then looked pointedly behind us. “Maxine, you seem to have misplaced the rest of your guests from your game. I suspect you noticed this, which is why you’re hanging onto this one so tightly.”
“Oh!” Max said in surprise and dropped my arm like it was a hot potato. I instantly disliked Cletus. “All the others couldn’t make it. Just him. Cletus, meet Wrath—er, Jonathan Owen from Florida. Jonathan, this is my friend Cletus Winston.”
Not one to let my manners fail me when needed, I stuck out my hand and Cletus gave it a firm shake. “Jonathan Owen, would you happen to be the same gentleman who enjoys harrying Maxine at every available turn?”
I spun to face Maxine. “You told people that about me? What else did you say, that I like to hunt people for sport?” I felt my face redden in embarrassment as I recalled the time I had also besmirched her good name to the other guild officers. I wasn’t sure what to do with the information that she was talking unfavorably about me to her friends. I felt like every time we made some progress and I got to show her more of who I really was, something popped up to remind me of her animosity.
“Wrath, calm down. Of course not. I was telling Cletus about the game, that’s all.”
“Oh, I see. That’s all,” I said sarcastically.
“It would seem to me,” Cletus said, inserting himself into our fight, "that you two need to have a tête-à -tête, but allow me to suggest not tonight. We're fixing to take things back to my brother's place up on Bandit Lake. Scarlet and Billy will be there singing, and I'll have my banjo and a dulcimer. If you can sit in your own stew for the rest of the evening, you can imbibe and listen to more fine music."
And with that, he packed up his banjo and gave Max a little salute as he left the room.
"So, feel like hitting up a party?" Max asked, almost cautiously.
I thought about it. I was mad as hell that not only did Max hate me, she had told her offline friends I was some kind of dastardly character. That being said, I didn't want to piss her off by saying no when she probably wanted to go. Plan Seduction would suggest that I be pliable to her wishes, even if I thought she was a jerk at the moment. I hoped that this wasn't some big rager we were headed to because being the only sober person at a party is about as much fun as watching paint dry, only the wall sometimes vomits and tries to get into your pants.
"Fine," I answered. "Party it is, princess." I couldn't help poking the bear, just a little. Her eyes flashed fire, and I smiled, gesturing with my arm that she should lead the way.
Ann Whynot has been writing stories since she was five, and always dreamed of one day being a published author. She is a voracious reader and book collector, and used book stores are her kryptonite. She also is passionate about video games, crafting, baking, laughing, and travel.
She lives with her family, dog, and two cats on the Canadian east coast, and is inspired by both the forest and sea.
Vali Erickson is the classic middle child—misunderstood, underestimated, and overlooked. He’s fine with it. Really. The overlooked part is actually serving him well during this phase of life.
He’s in Green Valley in an effort to fly under the radar and regroup after a life-altering blow to his heart and ego. The last thing he’s looking for is a woman to warm his bed until one throws him to the mat and rocks his world.
Margaret O’Neal is an only child who has led a sheltered life. She’s used to being a wallflower. Her ability to blend into the background is what allows her to maintain her anonymity as a gossip columnist for the Green Valley Ledger.
Since the Ericksons moved to town, she's never felt more inspired, especially with the newest addition. Vali Erickson is the definition of eye candy—devastatingly handsome with muscles for days—giving her plenty to report about.
The more Maggie observes, the more she finds herself wanting things she’s only read about in romance novels.
Admiring Vali from afar is good enough for her until their paths cross and she finds herself trying to stay afloat in uncharted territory—no labels, no promises, and WAY out of her comfort zone.
Will this arrangement be what finally breaks her out of her shell, or will her heart be a casualty of the Viking Invasion?
'Eye Candy' is a full-length contemporary romance, and can be read as a standalone. Book #3 in the Fighting For Love series, Green Valley Chronicles, Penny Reid Book Universe.
Standing outside the Green Valley Community Center, I’m getting a little antsy waiting for Maggie. I really hate not picking her up at her house for a date, but she insists it’s better this way. I’ve told her I didn’t care if she lived on the outskirts of town or Timbuktu, I still wanted to pick her up but she just laughed and redirected our conversation.
I have a feeling she doesn’t want to formally introduce me to her parents as the man she’s dating, especially after my one and only visit to their feed store. I guess I understand. I didn’t really make the best first impression but that’s on me. How can I redeem myself if she refuses to introduce me to them?
Maybe I need a do-over visit to the store.
Before I can formulate a solid plan, my attention is pulled to the parking lot where I see Maggie walking toward me, looking sexy as fuck. I lean back against a column and enjoy watching her come to me. She’s so striking with how she carries herself and I don’t think she even knows it. Her height and voluptuous curves paired with her long, dark hair and wide smile command the attention of everyone around her.
And she’s mine.
For now, anyway.
When she’s close enough for me to touch, I slide my arm around her waist and pull her to me. Capturing her mouth with mine, I claim it, not able to hold back any longer. Even though we made out in the parking lot of Genie’s on Friday, it’s been too long since I’ve been able to see her… touch her… taste her.
I want her so fucking much. I want to learn her body and watch her fall apart over and over. I want her to explore my body and have her way with me, any way she wants. I want so much but realize now is not the time or place for my dick to be running the show, so I slowly and reluctantly pull away.
Maggie’s lips are swollen and her eyes are dazed as she looks at me and whispers, “Wow”.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.” I kiss her forehead, allowing my lips to linger so I can have one last taste before we walk inside.
“Same to you.” She bites down on her bottom lip, fighting back a smile as she shakes her head. I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking and to replace her teeth with my own. Those luscious lips have made an appearance in every dream I’ve had for the past week.
And as much as I want to make her come again, it’s not going to happen in the parking lot of the community center. My instincts tell me Maggie’s a virgin. Even though I don’t have a lot of experience in that arena, I know one thing for sure, I want every orgasm I give Maggie to be better than the one before.
I want all her firsts to be worth the wait because she definitely is.
“So, tell me about the jam sessions. I hear they’re pretty famous,” I say as I grab her hand and lead her to the building’s entrance, needing to distract myself so I’m not sporting a semi as we walk into the community center.
“They’ve been happening for a few years now and they’re pretty fun. Typically, they’re held on Friday nights and people from all over come to enjoy good music and even better food. You like bar-b-que, right?”
I look at her like she’s lost her mind. “Woman, I am from Texas. Of course, I like bar-b-que.”
She laughs and squeezes my arm as we step inside, where we’re instantly greeted by a friendly welcoming committee. After we get the rundown on where to find the festivities, we make our way to where the food is and Maggie continues our conversation.
“I know you’re from Texas, which is why I asked. Texas bar-b-que is very different from Tennessee bar-b-que. Some even say your version isn’t bar-b-que at all.”
I jerk away from her in shock. “Them's fightin’ words, Miss O’Neal,” I say, laying my Texas twang on thick. “Now, take me to this high-and-mighty food so I can judge for myself.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m slumped in my chair, fighting the urge to unbuckle my belt and jeans.
“So, what’s the verdict?”
Maggie’s expression is smug and I want to kiss it right off her face but I’m too full to move right now. So instead, I give her a shrug, trying to play it off. “It’s alright, I guess. If you like that kind of thing.”
Her laughter fills the room and I’m mesmerized. It’s quickly becoming my favorite sound, second only to the sounds of her orgasm. Shit, I cannot be thinking like that right now, when I’m too stuffed to try and hide a boner.
“One of these days, I’ll fix you some Texas bar-b-que,” I vow.
She scrunches up her nose, and while the look on her face is absolutely adorable, it’s not quite what I was hoping for. “You’ve had my cooking before. Do you doubt my skills?”
“It’s not that,” she starts. “It’s just that Texas bar-b-que is mainly smoked meat, not cooked over an open flame, and you put your sauce on the side!” Her hand covers her heart to illustrate the horror of her words.
“Listen, good meat is good meat, I don’t care where it’s from. But, it’s only fair that you try my meat since I just tried yours.”
The words are out of my mouth before I realize how they sound, and when I look at Maggie’s face to get her reaction, I’m pleased to see the same dazed look from earlier. She’s also blushing something fierce, which tells me she’s just as dirty minded as I am. Well, maybe not quite as much, but close.
“Hey,” I say to get her attention.
With flushed cheeks, she meets my eyes. “Yeah?”
“You gonna take me to one of the music rooms so I can finally dance with you?”
Her shoulders relax and she gives me one of her mega-watt smiles. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“Absolutely. Besides, I need to burn off some of this food.”
Maggie giggles and grabs my hand, pulling me out of my chair and leading me to the first music room we find. There are five or six musicians playing some good ol’ honky-tonk music, which is exactly what I need right now.
I twirl Maggie around before pulling her flush against my body. “Let’s dance.”
And, dance, we do. We two-step, we waltz, and we even jitterbug a couple of times before we’re worn out and need to take a break.
We leave the room and enter another with a band playing bluegrass music. I’m a little surprised to see both of my brothers, along with their significant others, on the dance floor. Bluegrass is not a genre of music we listened to much back home but it’s a slow song and I completely understand the draw of slow dancing with a woman. So much so, I grab Maggie’s hand and lead her onto the floor close to my siblings, so we can join in the fun, as well.
What a sight this must be, watching three big-ass dudes from Texas slow dancing to bluegrass music in a refurbished classroom.
“Oh, good, Cletus is playing. He’s so good on the banjo,” Maggie tells me.
“Who’s that?”
“You know Jenn from the bakery, right? Well, that’s her husband.” She uses her head to point in the direction of a man with wild hair, playing a banjo as if it’s the easiest thing to do. Not gonna lie, I’m kind of envious of his long beard. I’ve never been able to grow my beard out like that.
It doesn’t take long for me to get lost in the feel of Maggie in my arms again. She fits perfectly, her soft parts molding to my hard ones, and if it feels this good while we still have our clothes on, I can’t fucking wait to be this close to her while naked.
Maggie’s head is on my shoulder as we sway to the music, so she doesn’t see when Tempest waves at me. I look up at Tempest and watch as she mouths, “Have you asked about New Orleans.” Drawing my eyebrows together, I give a small shake of my head in reply. She’s obviously not happy with my answer because her eyes are now narrowed and her hands are on her hips.
Not wanting to get into it right now, I roll my eyes and sway our bodies so that my back is now facing Tempest. I’m sure I’ll pay for this tomorrow but I don’t care.
It’s not that I don’t want Maggie to go to New Orleans with us, with me, because I do. But I can’t help but wonder if it’s too soon for us. Of course, I wouldn’t have any expectations regarding the physical side of our relationship but it’d be our first weekend getaway as a couple, and to me, that’s a big deal. Road trips can either make or break a couple and the fact we’d also be with my family, as in my entire family… well, it kind of scares the shit out of me. I don’t want to pressure her or freak her out but, on the flip side, making that trip without her would fucking suck.
I will ask her, but not tonight.
Tonight, I just want to hold her in my arms for as long as she’ll let me.
Jiffy Kate is the joint pen name for Jiff Simpson and Jenny Kate Altman. They’re co-writing besties who share a brain. They also share a love of cute boys, stiff drinks, and fun times.
Together, they’ve written over twenty stories. Their first published book, Finding Focus, was released in November 2015. Since then, they’ve continued to write what they know–southern settings full of swoony heroes and strong heroines.
Carpentry and Cocktails, an all-new heartwarming small-town romance from Nora Everly, is now available in Kindle Unlimited!
Download your copy TODAY!
But she had kept her distance from me—well, as much as she possibly could while living in the apartment in my basement—and we hadn’t touched again, not once. Having her crash into my arms just now was heady stuff. Her scent, the feel of her body, the warm press of her against me—she made me feel intoxicated, and I had yet to order a single drink. My heart was in danger, but I couldn’t make myself stay away.
“My sister…I’m sorry—” she stammered as she started to step back.
I tugged her closer instead of letting her get away. “Don’t apologize. Dance with me?” My hands drifted around her waist as I started moving us backward toward the dance floor.
“Oh, I don’t know if we should.” Hesitation flashed briefly in her eyes, but she acquiesced and followed me across the floor as I turned to hold her hand, giving it a gentle tug of encouragement.
Leaning to the side, I whispered in her ear as we walked. “It’s just a dance, Willard.” I pulled back and grinned down at her with a wink. Her gorgeous eyes—big and light blue like the summer sky—widened as she opened her mouth to say something, but I twirled her under my arm instead of letting her speak. Country music blasted through the bar, fast and wild. It left no room for hesitation. I yanked her into my arms. “Okay?” I shouted over the music.
My mother loved to dance; she taught all us boys how. A gentleman always takes his lady dancing. And maintains a respectful distance. I took a small step back, placing my hand on Willa’s upper back as our fingers linked together. With a step forward, she closed that distance to press against me once more. My lips curled up in a grin as her hand tightened in mine and her arm slid around my neck, hand drifting through the back of my tied-back hair. She wasn’t as immune to me as she pretended to be and I wouldn’t dare test that by stepping away from her again, even if it wasn’t gentlemanly. If she wanted me close, then that’s where I’d be.
Her gorgeous eyes twinkled in the lights as she smiled up at me and her body relaxed in my arms. “Okay, Everett. I’ll dance with you,” she breathed. Her voice was much too quiet to hear over the blaring music, but my focus on her gorgeous mouth allowed me to understand her words.
Quick, quick, slow—our easy Texas two-step was the same as everyone else’s on the floor but with her in my arms, this felt like so much more than a simple dance. I led her across the floor, spinning her out and pulling her back. I wanted to make her laugh again, like I did during our last dance so many months ago. I wanted her to want me as much as I wanted her. We had almost shared a kiss that night but were interrupted before anything could happen. She had the prettiest lips; full and soft and always pink. If I never kissed Willa before I died, it would be one of my greatest regrets. I had faith the right moment would present itself. As the song came to an end, I took both of her hands to spin her under my arms before dipping her low over my knee. Her ponytail brushed the floor as her neck arched back. She laughed, lifted her head and my heart skipped a beat as her eyes shone into mine with unbridled delight. Her sexy laugh tickled over my skin like I wished her hands would do and I felt the fall I was so afraid of coming even closer.
“God, you’re such a good dancer. Where’d you learn to dance like this, Everett?” she asked, slightly breathless and totally adorable as she beamed up at me. It seemed that dancing with Willa was one of the keys to get her to respond to me. I filed that fact away for future contemplation as I pulled her up and into my hold once again.
My smile turned sideways as I was about to admit my nerdy momma’s-boy truth to her. “From my mother,” I shouted over the music. “She loves to dance. My father tries, but he isn’t very good at it, so she taught all us boys how. We used to take turns two-stepping with her all over the living room.”
“That’s the sweetest thing ever,” she said. Score one for the nerds!
“One more?” I didn’t want to let her go yet.
“Sure, I have time for one more before I have to get back to work.”
With its slower beat and romantic lyrics, Lady Antebellum’s “I Run to You” changed the energy between us. The rise and fall of her chest as she sighed against me filled me with need as her forehead briefly rested on my shoulder and our fingers linked. I loved it that she was so tall. At six-foot-six I towered over most women, but Willa fit me just right. My need grew urgent as I wrapped my arm around her waist and my hand met the soft swipe of her skin, bared by the tied hem of her Genie’s tank top. Smooth and warm, it tempted me into thoughts inappropriate for our location. I inhaled a sharp breath to regain control. Dipping my head low, I took in her sweet scent as my cheek rested against hers—so soft. Her curly hair tickled my chin as my senses filled with nothing but her. Having her next to me felt right and I didn’t understand why. My heart raced out of control and I wondered just what it was about her that made me react so intensely.
She reminded me of a Palomino horse; all long legs, flowing light blond hair, and pale skin kissed with adorable freckles. Willa was some kind of wild, and totally free. I shut my eyes and pictured her running across her momma’s land up in the hills above town with her gorgeous hair flying behind her like a gold cloud, her laughter trailing through the air. God, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I grit my teeth as my control started slipping away again. I was in danger of making a fool of myself. I was in danger of a lot of things, and a broken heart was at the top of that list.
“I love this song…” she whispered in my ear as she pulled away. Her head lifted from my shoulder as her hand trailed down my arm. She linked our fingers and I resumed leading her around the floor, rather than the slow sway we’d fallen into when the song started.
“Mm hmm,” I muttered as I gazed into her eyes and smiled faintly, at a loss for words.
She studied my face. “Everett, why do I always feel like when you’re looking at me, you really see me?” she murmured.
“I do see you. Sometimes you’re all I see,” I confessed, hoping it wasn’t too much, too soon.
Lowering her head, she tucked her blushing cheek into the side of my neck and sighed against my skin, leaving goosebumps in the wake of her breath. I continued leading her across the dance floor with my heart beating like crashing thunder bolts in my chest. I should be careful; I didn’t want her to end up being just another girl I fell for who didn’t want me back. Story of my life.
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