Fearless Love

by Meg Benjamin

  And I’ll be there to see it, God willing. He touched one of her curls, letting the hair slide over his fingers like silk.

  MG turned her head, pressing her lips against his palm. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “For what?”

  She blew out a breath. “For giving me a job. For cooking me food. For helping me with my chickens. For standing by me during this whole thing with Aunt Nedda. For being here. For being with me. Most of all for that.”

  Go for it. “I love you, Mary Grace Carmody,” he said slowly. “And when you love someone, you’re there for them. That’s part of the deal.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes wide. His chest began to ache from the tension in his shoulders. Oh Jesus, too far too fast.

  Then she leaned forward, sliding her fingers beneath his chin to bring his lips to hers. He tasted her, the warmth of her, the essence of her, more strange and wonderful than anything he’d ever tasted before. The moment hung suspended, out of time. I’ll never forget this, feeling this.

  She pulled back from him then, her eyes bright with tears. “That was beautiful. The most beautiful thing you could have said. And I love you too. And I’m not just saying that because you said it first. I mean, I know it sounds like that’s what I’m saying, but really it’s not.” She paused, closing her eyes. “And how exactly did we go from sublime to ridiculous in a matter of seconds?”

  He let himself grin since life seemed to have slid back into focus again. “Darlin’ I’m a chef. Sublime and ridiculous are both part of my basic vocabulary.”

  She opened her eyes again, malachite green. “What happens now?”

  He glanced around the yard. The hens were scratching in the grass. Robespierre was strutting his stuff. Just like home.

  “Well, I’d say the first order of business is to get some more furniture. My bed will help, and I’ve got a decent couch. But we could use a couple chairs. And sorry, darlin’, but that TV of yours has got to go. I’m thinking flat screen, maybe thirty-two inches.”

  She frowned. “You want to live here? In the farmhouse?”

  “Well, unless you want to live at the cabin, which doesn’t strike me as a great idea, although I could always be wrong about that.” He paused. “I guess I’m assuming this is okay with you. Is it?”

  She nodded quickly. “Yes. Oh yes. It’s perfectly okay. In fact, it’s great. But I mean—here? At the Ritz?” She gestured toward the house with its peeling paint and slightly sagging porch.

  Joe smiled. “Hey, darlin’, it’s a fixer-upper. Reminds me of home. A little paint. Basic carpentry. Maybe some plumbing and a bit of rewiring. Piece of cake.”

  “And hot and cold running chickens.”

  “There you go.” He ran his fingers along her cheek again. “And of course there’s you. That’s the main attraction. That you’ll be here with me.”

  She closed her eyes. “If you keep taking my breath away, I won’t be able to talk.”

  “Well, that’s a problem then, darlin’.” He leaned forward again, touching his lips to her hair, her cheek, her lips. “I plan to be taking your breath away for a good long time. As long as you’ll let me, in fact.”

  She smiled up at him, running the tip of her finger along his nose. “Bring it on, Chef,” she whispered. “Bring it on.”

  About the Author

  Meg Benjamin is an award-winning author of contemporary romance. Her Konigsburg series is set in the Texas Hill Country. Book #3, Be My Baby, won a 2011 EPIC Award for Contemporary Romance. Book #4, Long Time Gone, received the Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Indie Press Romance. Book #5, Brand New Me, won the Holt Medallion from Virginia Romance Writers and was nominated for Book Of the Year at Long and Short Reviews.

  Meg lives in Colorado with her DH and two rather large Maine coon kitties (well, partly Maine Coon anyway). Her Web site is www.MegBenjamin.com and her blog is megbenj1.wordpress.com. You can follow her on Facebook (www.facebook.com/meg.benjamin1), Pinterest (www.pinterest.com/megbenjamin), and Twitter (www.twitter.com/megbenj1). Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at meg@megbenjamin.com.

  Look for these titles by Meg Benjamin

  Now Available:

  Konigsburg, Texas

  Venus In Blue Jeans

  Wedding Bell Blues

  Be My Baby

  Long Time Gone

  Brand New Me

  Don’t Forget Me

  Coming Soon:

  Bolted

  Once they said goodbye forever. Now they want to walk it back.

  Don’t Forget Me

  © 2011 Meg Benjamin

  Konigsburg, Texas, Book 6

  Eighteen months ago, Kit Maldonado was so over Nando Avrogado, she left Konigsburg without a backward glance. With the family restaurant in San Antonio sold out from under her, though, she’s back to manage The Rose, an exclusive resort eatery outside town.

  Dealing with a stingy boss, an amorous head chef, an understaffed dining room and planning her aunt’s wedding should have kept her hands full. But she realizes she might not be as over Nando as she thought.

  As the town’s new assistant chief of police, Nando’s got enough trouble without sexy Kit fanning embers he thought had long ago turned to ashes. Every time he turns around, she’s there—and it doesn’t help that everyone in town wants to see them back together.

  One incendiary kiss, and there’s no denying the force of their attraction. But there’s a mysterious and oddly familiar burglar who’s been lurking around Konigsburg, someone who isn’t above a little mayhem—maybe even violence—to cover his tracks.

  Warning: Contains hot makeup sex, wedding madness, a hot chef, vengeful burglars, and unlawful abuse of a wedding cake.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Don’t Forget Me:

  He could think of a dozen reasons not to do this. Hell, he’d already thought of them. He’d been thinking of them as he’d sat in the bar. But here he was again. Moth to the flame. Lemming to the cliff. Preying mantis waiting for that final blow.

  Which was a hell of an image to have when he held her, all soft flesh and swirling hair. When he smelled that intoxicating scent again, spice and honey and faint tuberose.

  The singer’s voice followed them across the floor. “You don’t know me.”

  He wanted to say something to her, something light and casual that would put this back in focus again, but his throat felt too dry for words all of a sudden.

  The music began to swell toward the end, the final line, that final bit of heartbreak. “You'll never, ever know, the one who loves you so, cause you don't know me.”

  The dancers around them came to a stop, the buzz of conversation rising. Say something. Say anything! He stared down into her velvet eyes, his mind suddenly blank. His arms were still around her, her body still pressed against him.

  Her eyes widened in something that might have been shock as she took a quick breath. “I should go.”

  After another moment he loosened his hold slightly. He couldn’t stand there holding her forever, no matter how much he might want to. “Okay. Did you drive?”

  She nodded silently, her gaze never leaving his face.

  “Then I’ll walk you to your car.” He turned slightly, letting his arm rest across her shoulders as he took her back to her table.

  Docia flashed them a quick speculative look as Kit grabbed her purse. “Done for the night?”

  “Yeah.” Kit gave her a slightly strained grin, then turned back toward the street entrance.

  He followed her through the gate, wondering if he could risk putting his hand on her arm. She looked fragile all of a sudden, as if she might shatter with too much pressure.

  At her car, she turned to face him. “Well…” she began.

  He’d never know what she might have said—whatever it was, it didn’t matter. Instead he slid his index finger under her chin, tipping it up slightly, so that he could bring his lips to hers.

  The shock of it almost sent
him to his knees. The taste, the feel, months stripped away, memories swamping him. And yet not the same exactly.

  He wrapped his arms around her, one at her waist, one across her shoulders, holding her tight against him as he angled his mouth against hers, plunging his tongue deep inside.

  After a moment, he felt her arms lock around his neck. And then she was kissing him back, hungrily, her tongue rasping against his. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, hips flat against his. He felt her rise to her tiptoes, bringing the V of her legs against him.

  He turned, pushing her bottom alongside the car, pressing his aching arousal hard against her. The small portion of rationality he still had was screaming, telling him to back off, while his body screamed to take it as far as he could.

  And then she was pushing on his shoulders, pulling back from the kiss, panting, her lips swollen, her eyes wide with panic. “Oh god, Nando,” she gasped. “No. I can’t. I can’t do this again. It hurt too much. You don’t know how much it hurt.”

  He rested his forehead against hers for a moment, fighting to get breath into his lungs. “I know,” he whispered. “Christ. I know.”

  “You know?” She narrowed her eyes, her voice trembling. “You can’t. How could you?”

  “Because I hurt too.” He bit off the words. “Because I’ll hurt again if this goes south. I don’t want to, but I will.”

  There’s having fun… And then there’s falling in love.

  Just for Fun

  © 2012 Erin Nicholas

  The Bradfords, Book 4

  It was a chance meeting, a spontaneous, hot moment, a never-to-be-repeated encounter. So when the gorgeous redhead he knows only as Sugar walks into the bar and heads straight for him, Doug “Dooley” Miller knows he’s in trouble. But he’s sure not going to mind.

  She needs a date to some swanky something-or-other. He’s a fish-sticks-and-denim guy, but for a woman who’s not afraid to get naughty in an elevator, he can stand a couple days of smoked salmon and Armani.

  Morgan James admits she doesn’t really know Doug, but she needs him to keep her mind—and hands—off her ex. A man who, despite the fact he stole her ideas, she’s afraid could charm her into repeating her mistakes. Only Doug can make her forget the weasel exists. Besides, it’s just this one time.

  What started as not even a one-night stand has Dooley feeling things that he’s never felt before. And that’s outside of the bedroom. Don’t even get him started on what’s happening between the sheets. Why does he have a feeling that, as far as flings go, they’re doing something wrong? Then again, if they’re falling in love, they might just be getting that right.

  Warning: Contains a woman who knows what she wants, a man who knows what he doesn’t want, and a proposition that shows them both that they’ve never really wanted anything like this before.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Just for Fun:

  “You date a lot?” she asked.

  “Enough.”

  “Lots of regular girls in Omaha?”

  The corner of his mouth curled. “Enough.”

  “How come you haven’t married one of these real regular girls?” she asked, breaking a chip into little pieces.

  His eyebrows shot up. “Marriage isn’t in the plans. I date girls who know that, who feel the same way. I don’t date anyone exclusively, or too many times, for that matter. Things get complicated if you get to know a girl too well and vice versa.”

  “But you do have sex with them?”

  “Of course.”

  She rolled her eyes, irritated by the conversation. Which made no sense. “You just keep things at sex and a few laughs and that’s it?”

  “Right.” He said it more emphatically than was needed.

  Okay, already. She got it. Hell, it was what they were doing—casual, sex, fun, period. He didn’t have to act like she was getting too close for comfort. This was more or less a business arrangement. Even more straightforward than the relationships he apparently had all the time.

  “So,” she said, selecting another chip. “You worried about some performance anxiety or something?”

  He set his glass down hard. “What?”

  “You need to dress me down and take me bowling before we go to bed because that’s what you’re used to? You can’t perform under different circumstances?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You think I need to see you with your hair down and eating nachos before I can get it up?” He laughed. “Uh, no.”

  “Then what is this? This wanting me to be a regular girl?”

  “Regular girls have more fun. They’re not uptight. They don’t have big business deals nagging at the back of their minds keeping them from focusing on me. They don’t have fancy lingerie so they don’t care if I rip it getting it off of them. They don’t worry about what other people think so they don’t hold back on orgasms the neighbors can hear.”

  She swallowed hard. Having Doug rip her panties off sounded damned appealing. Even if they were expensive. “Is this wisdom based on experience with regular girls or…not-regular ones?”

  Morgan could admit business was never far from her mind. But she wasn’t sure she held back on the orgasms exactly. It was more… Oh hell, she didn’t know. Maybe she did hold back. She had orgasms but she didn’t lose her mind.

  “I’ve been with enough of both to have formed an educated opinion,” he said.

  Of course he had. Why did she keep bringing this subject up?

  “Meaning you’ve pegged me as high maintenance and too much work?”

  “Pretty much,” he admitted. “Life’s short. Best to spend it doing things I love. I’m not going to wait an hour for a woman to fix her hair to go to the grocery store or paint her nails or try on a hundred dresses. The best look for any woman is a rumpled old T-shirt, no panties and her hair in a ponytail.”

  He was talking about all the reasons he didn’t think he’d like being with her and yet she couldn’t help her smile. “You’ve put some real thought into this.”

  He nodded and shoved a chip into his mouth.

  “What are some of these things you love that you want to spend your time doing?”

  They were wrong for each other and that was wonderful. This was a weekend thing and the more reasons they had to cheerfully part ways at the end of it, the better.

  “Being with people I care about and who care about me. Working a job I love and I’m good at. Sports, camping, being my nieces’ favorite uncle.”

  “You have nieces?” She wasn’t sure why that surprised her.

  “Yep, three of them. One of my sisters has two girls and the other has one.”

  “What makes you their favorite?”

  He gave her a grin that made her stomach flip. “I like to play. I’ll get on the floor, get loud and messy and silly with them.”

  She had no trouble believing that. But all at once his childish tendencies were a lot more attractive. Plus, she knew now that he could turn it off. At least for long enough to eat dinner with her boss. He was interesting. And very, very hot.

  “I’ll admit I’m a little concerned about the ripped lingerie,” she said casually, sipping from her straw.

  He blinked as they changed topics. “Oh?”

  “These were expensive.”

  “You can buy more.”

  She smiled. No promises of being careful or gentlemanly. “I have another idea.”

  “I’m open to suggestions as long as they come off.”

  She glanced around. Everyone in Bud’s Bowl was otherwise engaged. Most had their backs to them anyway as they concentrated on the alleys.

  Through her dress she felt the strip of her panties where they crossed her hip. The dress’s material was thin and she was able to roll the edges of her panties down by sliding her palms over her hips through the dress. She had to lift her butt off the seat of the stool and wiggle but she was able to work the tiny bikini panties to mid-thigh. Then she crossed one leg over the other, grabbed the edge of the panties and
pulled them to her ankles where she kicked them free.

  Then she handed them to Doug. “Now there’s no worry about ripping anything when we get back to the room.”

  Doug stared at the silky scrap in his hand. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “Maybe regular girls don’t do stuff like that,” she said with a lift of her shoulder. She picked up her soda again. They wouldn’t work out long term, but she was going to show him other girls could be fun too.

  “I have to say, I’ve never had a woman hand me her underwear in a bowling alley before,” he admitted.

  “Stick around. I might surprise you again.”

  Fearless Love

  Meg Benjamin

  Sweet music doesn’t come without a few sour notes.

  Konigsburg, Texas, Book 7

  MG Carmody never figured her musical dreams would crash against the reality of Nashville. Now the only thing she has going for her is her late grandfather’s chicken farm, which comes with molting hens that won’t lay, one irascible rooster, and a huge mortgage held by a ruthless opponent—her Great Aunt Nedda.

  With fewer eggs to sell, MG needs extra money, fast. Even if it means carving out time for a job as a prep cook at The Rose—and resisting her attraction to its sexy head chef.

  Joe LeBlanc has problems of his own. He’s got a kitchen full of temperamental cooks—one of whom is a sneak thief—a demanding cooking competition to prepare for, and an attraction to MG that could easily boil over into something tasty. If he could figure out the cause of the shy beauty’s lack of self-confidence

  In Joe’s arms, MG’s heart begins to find its voice. But between kitchen thieves, performance anxiety, saucy saboteurs, greedy relatives, and one very pissed-off rooster, the chances of them ever making sweet music are looking slimmer by the day.