Glass artist Savannah Smith expected a marriage proposal for Thanksgiving—just not from her strong, silent, super-hot neighbor. But when misplaced mail and a wayward can of paint lands them in a compromising position right as her family arrives for dinner, they assume he’s “The One” she’s been talking about.
Then his family shows up.
Fate dealt a crippling blow to paramedic Beau Montgomery’s heart, and he isn’t about to put it at risk again. Except, with his mother crying tears of joy over his surprise engagement to the sexy little blonde next door, he can’t bring himself to ruin her “Christmas miracle.”
Somewhere between the paint can to the head and the chaotic family trip to the ER, Beau manages to talk Savannah into being his fake fiancée long enough to survive the holidays.
If, of course, they don’t fall in love first…
“Our families might expect an occasional display of affection.”
His right palm tingled with the phantom weight of her breast, and his left hand twitched at the memory of cupping her tight, round ass. “I’m sure we can muster up something convincing.”
“I don’t know. You’re blushing pretty hard right now just thinking about it.”
The allegedly logical part of his mind insisted she had a point. “You want a demonstration?”
She tipped her face up, shook her hair back, and he caught a flowery hint of shampoo or perfume, or maybe just her drifting under the antiseptic hospital smell.
“A dress rehearsal might be in order. I don’t mean to criticize, but the last time you kissed me, your technique needed work.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he had a strong and unwise desire to trace every curve of her teasing grin with his tongue. See if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else, Smith. We’ve never kissed before.”
“My mom’s got a photo that tells a different story.”
Another small step on her part brought her body flush against his. The move produced a swift inhale from her, and then her eyes rounded at the evidence of what he’d mustered up pressing against her stomach. He found both reactions extraordinarily gratifying. She rested her palms on his chest. Having her hands on him also didn’t suck. “Exactly how old was I in this alleged kissing photo?”
Her gaze traveled over his face and came to rest at his mouth. “Fairly young…and fairly naked. We both were. To be honest, if not for the nudity, I’d have a hard time telling us apart.” She licked her lips.
“Well, brace yourself, Savannah. I’m all grown up, and you’ll know which one is me, even with our clothes on.”
You can read my review of Emergency Engagement here.
Madison Foley is determined to stand on her own two feet, no matter how wobbly her circumstances. Fate, however, keeps throwing her off balance, and then sending heroically hot paramedic Hunter Knox to save her.
She’s put men on the back burner until she gets her life on track.
But Hunter’s got other plans.
The capability to form thoughts in whole sentences fled, because Hunter stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall. Single words exploded in her brain like fireworks. Hunter. Wet. Towel. Please.
Madison didn’t remember moving, but the next thing she knew, her hands slid across smooth, damp skin stretched taught over bulging shoulders. She wanted to loiter there, because the firm contours fit so perfectly in her palms, but his chest distracted her. She fanned her fingers over the warm, hard muscles, and felt the beat of his heart beneath her right hand. He drew in a breath, expanding his chest and sending her hands on a slow slide downward.
Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice scolded her to stop treating Hunter like her own, personal playground, but the faint echo of conscience couldn’t stop her fingers from following the slope of his pecs into the narrow channel etched down the center of his chest. Another, more urgent voice cautioned her this brewing attraction might involve riskier ingredients than hormones and pheromones, but the warning didn’t override the compulsion to trace the spot where the gulley flared into a diamond-shaped shallow, before angling down to divide the hills and valleys of his torso into eight distinct parcels. A line of crisp, blond hair led south from his navel. She stayed the course, dipping lower, until she hooked the edge of the towel. A long, hard ridge jutted just alongside her curled fingers. The sight sent hot, itchy flames licking under her skin, something that could only be soothed from within.
“Goddammit, yes.” The towel landed on the carpet with a hushed thud, but before she could feast her eyes on the prize, he slammed his mouth down on hers.
You can read my review of Emergency Delivery here.
Wine lover, sleep fanatic, and USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy contemporary romance novels, Samanthe Beck lives in Malibu, California, with her long-suffering but extremely adorable husband and their elementary-aged turbo-son. Throw in a furry ninja named Kitty and Bebe the trash talking Chihuahua and you get the whole, chaotic picture.
When not clinging to sanity by her fingernails or dreaming up fun, fan-your-cheeks sexy ways to get her characters to happily-ever-afters, she searches for the perfect cabernet to pair with Ambien.
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