Hot nights, huge consequences.
Divorced and done with her dry spell, Holly Prentice is ready to get back in the game. But with two conditions: her future mate can’t be married to his career, and he has to have a couch. Nick Andreis loves his job, and his only furniture is a king-size bed. He’s also single, sexy, and six years Holly’s junior. Any guy this hunky and carefree can’t be serious about the future.
After one spontaneous and explosive night, Holly decides that her search for Mr. Right can wait. Nick can be Mr. Right Now.
Nick has waited years for Holly. Now that she’s dating again, he’s determined to be the only man in her life. He wants what Holly wants: forever. Convincing her of that won’t be easy, but Nick agrees—with fingers crossed behind his back—to Holly’s idea that they can be bed buddies until someone serious comes along. His plan: use the time between their passionate nights to convince her that he is the one.
Will Holly’s unexpected pregnancy change the rules of their games? Or can they both decide to play for keeps?
Something about the way he complimented her seemed more than superficial, but she didn’t probe it and scooted a few inches from him on the couch so she could look directly into his vivid green eyes.
“What are you–”
Their words crashed into each other, and they both laughed, dispelling some of the awkwardness. They’d been friends for years; she didn’t know why she was suddenly feeling uncomfortable around Nick.
“You first,” she said, pulling her hand back and rubbing both of them together for warmth.
He clasped her hands in his large ones again, rubbing them briskly this time. “You’re cold. Here, take my jacket.”
Before she could protest, he stood and removed the sexy-as-hell brown bomber jacket from his broad shoulders and wrapped it around her. He then rubbed her arms for good measure. His touch alone warmed her. Correction: his touch made her hot. She loved being wrapped in his jacket, even though she didn’t need it to keep her warm. As long as he was near, her body generated enough body heat to ward off the desert night chill. The jacket smelled of leather, saddle soap, and Nick. She couldn’t remember being this turned on just sitting next to, and not even touching, a man.
Nick didn’t say anything. He just looked at her with something akin to longing in his eyes. Feeling the need to fill the silence, to look away from his smoky green eyes, the golden flecks simmering with something like desire, Holly started asking questions, talking about anything to dispel the awkwardness that had returned as soon as he touched her, again.
I write the kinds of books I love to read. The quirky characters in my romance novels experience angst, conflict, mostly great sex, and always get their "happily ever after." In my mainstream fiction, ordinary woman experience angst, conflict, and occasional great sex, but they also get embroiled in struggles against extraordinary odds, and I don't promise a happy ending. I also love thrillers, but I don't write those. I live in Los Angeles with my husband, son, and a whole lot of pets. When I'm not hanging out in Hollywood, I'm eating my way through Budapest.
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