Hell on wheels meets hell in high heels.
Bad boy mechanic Josh Stone likes to get his hands dirty any way he can—the filthier, the better. Ever since his wife walked out on him and their young son, he’s only had room in his heart for two loves: the kid and cars.
Roped into playing his best buddy’s gay boyfriend during a romance writers convention, the player meets the girl who’s gonna rock his world. Leelee Songchild. Shy, bashful, beautiful Leelee who blushes at the drop of a hat yet writes hardcore smut to rival Josh’s backlist of Penthouse Forum.
The only problem is his hands are tied. Josh can’t stab his old friend/fake lover in the back even though all he wants to do is take luscious Leelee to bed, and maybe, love her. When the truth comes out, all hell breaks loose.
Too bad romance is just for books.
“I figured you for more of Chili Peppers fan.” Her rosebud lips burst into a teasing smile.
“Chet Baker, old school all the way, babe.” I leaned in those last few inches, licking the crest of her mouth, snicking her with a gentle bite of teeth.
“That explains the fedora then.”
I tugged the brim lower before angling in for another short pull on her lips.
Heat, sex, need raced between us, speeded by the fuel of shared memories.
This is it. The feeling of being all alone, together. It raced up my spine and pounded through my body, slamming right into my heart. What my folks had, I’d only experienced with Leelee. The night of the tango, in a roomful of people, we’d been intent on each other. She was heaven in my arms and I wanted nothing more, no one else.
“You miss your dad,” she said.
I flipped my hat onto the bar. “All the damn time, darlin’. But I don’t want to miss you. Not tomorrow, not the next day.”
She moved closer to whisper, “And it explains the Dancing with the Stars moves. You really are a romantic.”
I never would’ve thought so before her. Guiding her off the stool and between my legs, I growled, “Only for you, babe.”
She shifted back a couple steps, offering her hand. “Dance with me.”
“I think that’s my line.” I brought her hand to my chest. Warm and soft, her hip filled my palm, her skirt rustling between us. Leaning down, I nipped her shoulder, drinking her body in.
“I’m re-writin’ it.” Her body aligned perfectly with mine.
“For All We Know” began. There was nothing but the song and the sway of our bodies around the emptied room. Bartenders watched, quieting their movements as they cleaned up around us.
Wrapped around each other, we danced. Her hand skimmed up my back, mine slipped to her neck. Our lips hovered but no kisses were taken.
Leelee’s cheek lay against mine—her soft to my rough. “Sing to me?”
No candles, no one else, my voice rumbled with the rich tones of old times. There was no fancy footwork, only feeling. And she felt so fucking good in my arms.
The music ended slowly. My hands snuck up her back, holding her against me, unwilling to let go.
Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavor, the Carolina Bad Boys series, is fun, hot, and southern-sexy.
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.
You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website https://www.riewarren.com. She is represented by Saritza Hernandez, Corvisiero Literary Agency. http://www.corvisieroagency.com/Saritza_Hernandez.html
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