A Bad Boy for Christmas
Page 30
“What?” Her mouth dropped open. “I do not.”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Your engagement ring is in my top dresser drawer. I was going to ask you this weekend.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“So I didn’t have to get pregnant to snare you?”
Losing his ability to hold back his laughter, he chuckled, low and deep. Leaving a mark on her heart deeper than the one he’d left there before. This man had her. Body, heart, and soul.
“Cupcake”—he embraced her—“you snared me a long time ago.”
When she lifted her face from his, she found him smiling.
“A baby.”
“Our baby.”
His grin was undeniably big. No doubting how he felt about her news. He was as overjoyed as she was.
“So?” she pressed, lowering her voice to mimic his. “You in or are you out.”
“In.” He kissed her, long and hard, and until she melted right into him and almost forgot what she’d asked.
“Yeah? You’re going to marry me?” Happiness bubbled in her chest like a fizzy drink.
“I’ll do more than that to you.” He stood and lifted her off the bench, carrying her to the front door and informing her she now had to move in. Then he carried her up to the bedroom loft and gently laid her on the very large bed she often slept in beside him.
“Really, really terrible at being submissive,” she commented a second before his lips covered hers.
Proving he wasn’t the least bit perturbed by her accusation, he peeled off her pantsuit piece by piece and got down to turning her on. They made love the way they always had: joining on a shared exhalation and parting on a guttural sigh.
Round two had rendered her practically useless. Since she’d closed her eyes in the hopes of sinking into a blissful sleep, it took her a moment to realize there was the cold sensation on her breast. She opened her eyes to find a gold engagement ring encircling her nipple.
Lifting it, she looked through the circle at the man lying on his stomach on the bed, looking at her through the other side.
“Connor.”
“Yeah, Cupcake?”
She slid the ring onto her finger, unsurprised at the perfect fit. Feeling the weight of this moment, she flicked her eyes back to his. “What about the curse?”
“Lifted,” he said, kissing her finger and the ring at once. He placed a kiss on each of her nipples, then her lips. “You’ll make it down the aisle, Cupcake.” He pressed a kiss to her bare, and for now flat, belly. “The three of us will make it, period.”
In her heart, in her gut, she knew he was right. If anyone had the power to lift an age-old Shelby curse, to make Faith have, well, faith in love and marriage again, it was the overly confident, brave, bare-chested man lying next to her.
On a smile, she said, “Thank you.” Because without him, where would she be?
“What was that?” She could tell by the arch of his brows he was teasing her. Luckily, she caught on quickly.
“I said…I love you.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” He kissed her once more on the lips. “Love you, Cupcake.” Then he moved quickly, placing himself between her thighs, where he instructed. “Legs. Shoulders. Now.”
Obeying her bossy soon-to-be husband, she lifted her legs and deposited them onto his shoulders. He craned an eyebrow. “Good to see you’re all in.”
Yeah. She was all in.
And soon, so was Connor.
FROM THE DESK
OF JESSICA LEMMON
I couldn’t resist including a recipe to pay homage to Faith’s favorite dessert! Actual chocolate-dipped Devil Dog cakes are a bit complicated, so I deconstructed them into their simplest form. And how appropriate are cupcakes since “Cupcake” is Connor’s nickname for Faith? With special inspiration from master bakers Erin McKenna and Chloe Coscarelli, here is the recipe I came up with. They are amazing!
Devil Dog Cupcakes with Red
Wine Chocolate Sauce
Makes 12–14
Cupcakes
1 ½ cups flour
1 cup sugar
½ cup cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup coconut oil (melted)
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 can coconut milk
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350º Fahrenheit. Line a 12-cup muffin tin with cupcake liners.
Whisk flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt into a large bowl.
In a separate bowl, combine oil, vinegar, vanilla, and coconut milk.
Add wet ingredients to dry and stir until just combined. Do not overmix.
Fill cupcake liners about two-thirds of the way full. If you have leftover batter, line a few cups in another tin, or just eat the batter. (That’s what I did.)
Bake 16–20 minutes or until toothpick comes out dry.
Vanilla Frosting
1 cup non-hydrogenated vegetable shortening
2 teaspoons vanilla
3 cups powdered sugar
3–5 tablespoons nondairy creamer (or milk)
Directions:
Using beaters or a stand mixer, beat vegetable shortening and vanilla, adding powdered sugar a cup at a time. When mixture becomes dry, add non-dairy milk one tablespoon at a time.
Continue adding sugar until all three cups have been added. Scrape down the sides with a rubber spatula as needed.
Spoon frosting into a large plastic bag (or a frosting bag), twist and cut the corner off. Set aside.
Red Wine Chocolate Sauce
¼ cup nondairy creamer (or milk)
1 cup chocolate chips
¼ cup red wine
(I couldn’t resist adding wine to the chocolate sauce. I mean, this recipe is in honor of Faith, after all! If you don’t want the wine, simply swap out for extra creamer. Leftover chocolate sauce will solidify in the fridge but will melt in a few seconds in the microwave.)
Directions:
Warm the creamer or milk over the stove until simmering (but not boiling) and add to a bowl.
Stir in chocolate chips to melt (it takes time, so be patient), while warming the wine on the stove to simmering. Once wine is warmed, add to the chocolate mixture.
Continue stirring until smooth. If the chips are not melting, pop bowl into the microwave for 15 seconds and stir. Repeat if necessary until sauce is smooth and glossy.
To assemble:
Once cupcakes are cooled completely (good luck—I ate one warm), unwrap from cupcake liner and put on a plate.
Pipe a generous mountain of frosting on the top, then spoon on the chocolate sauce. Top with a tiny bit of frosting and a maraschino cherry.
Enjoy with a fork and a smile…preferably at your next Girls’ Night Out.
Also by Jessica Lemmon
The Love in the Balance series
Tempting the Billionaire
Can’t Let Go (novella)
Hard to Handle
The Millionaire Affair
The Second Chance series
Bringing Home the Bad Boy
Rescuing the Bad Boy
ACCLAIM FOR
JESSICA LEMMON’S NOVELS
BRINGING HOME THE BAD BOY
“Clever, romantic, and utterly unforgettable.”
—Lauren Layne, USA Today bestselling author
“4 ½ stars! A sexy gem of a read that will tug at the heartstrings…A heartfelt plot infused with both emotionally tender and raw moments makes this a story that readers will savor.”
—RT Book Reviews
THE MILLIONAIRE AFFAIR
“Fast paced, well written, and impossible to put down…Jessica writes with humor infused generously throughout in a realistic, entertaining way that really helps to make her characters realistic people you’ll want to know…You won’t be disappointed!”
—HarlequinJunkie.com<
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“Landon and Kimber’s banter is infectious as their chemistry sizzles. Smartly written with a narrative infused with humor and snark, this modern-day romance is a keeper.”
—RT Book Reviews
“I have always loved Jessica Lemmon’s books and have enjoyed reading this series. She has again captured me with her magnificent writing and characters.”
—NightOwlReviews.com
HARD TO HANDLE
“[Aiden is] a perfect balance of sensitive, heart-on-his-sleeve guy who is as sexy and ‘alpha’ as they come…A real romance that’s not about dominance but equality and mutual need—while not sacrificing [the] hotness factor. A rare treat.”
—PolishedBookworm.com
“Lemmon’s latest is a pleasant example of living in the present and celebrating second, and sometimes third, chances.”
—RT Book Reviews
“[Aiden is] a fantastic character. He is a motorcycle-riding, tattooed, rebel kind of guy with a huge heart. What’s not to love?…I really enjoyed this book and I think readers will find it entertaining and heartfelt.”
—RomanceRewind.blogspot.com
“I smiled through a lot of it, but seeing Aiden and Sadie deal with all of their hurdles was also incredibly moving and had me tearing up more than once as well…I can’t wait to see what Lemmon will bring to the table next.”
—HerdingCats-BurningSoup.com
“Aiden has all the characteristics of a bad boy but with the heart of that perfect hero…Their gradual spark leads to some well-written steamier scenes.”
—RosieReadsRomance.blogspot.com
CAN’T LET GO
“I loved Sadie and Aiden in Tempting the Billionaire, and I was waiting for their story to finally be told. I love that this novella [lays] the groundwork for what will come in their book. I look forward to seeing how their story unravels in Hard to Handle.”
—HarlequinJunkie.com
“This novella was long enough to get me hooked on Aiden and Sadie and short enough to leave me wanting more…The chemistry between the characters is fan worthy and the banter is a great addition. The writing style draws readers in. I can’t wait for Hard to Handle.”
—BSReviewers.blogspot.com
TEMPTING THE BILLIONAIRE
“A smashing debut! Charming, sexy, and brimming with wit—you’ll be adding Jessica Lemmon to your bookshelves for years to come!”
—Heidi Betts, USA Today bestselling author
“Lemmon’s characters are believable and flawed. Her writing is engaging and witty. If I had been reading this book out in public, everyone would have seen the huge grin on my face. I had so much fun reading this and adore it immensely.”
—LiteraryEtc.wordpress.com
“If you are interested in a loveable romance about two troubled souls who overcome the odds to find their own happily ever after, I would certainly recommend that you give Tempting the Billionaire a try. It was definitely a great Valentine’s Day read, for sure!”
—ChrissyMcBookNerd.blogspot.com
“The awesome cover opened to even more awesome things inside. It was realistic! Funny! Charming! Sweet!”
—AbigailMumford.com
After a family tragedy, sexy tattoo artist Evan Downey moves to Evergreen Cove to escape the past. But a beautiful woman he once knew may be his new chance for a future…
Please see the next page
for an excerpt from
Bringing Home
the Bad Boy.
CHAPTER ONE
He’d heard the stress of moving was like dealing with death, but since Evan Downey had dealt with a lot of death, it was with a fair amount of authority he called bullshit.
There wasn’t anything particularly fun about packing, selling, and leaving behind the house. He and his wife, Rae, had purchased the place together when they first got married—the only home their son had ever known.
The house had been a place of love and promise, but now painful memories poisoned the good ones. He would miss the door frame where he and Rae had scribbled Lyon’s height each and every year. Their walk-in closet where Evan had laid Rae down and made love to her the day they moved in.
What he wouldn’t miss was the hallway where she’d staggered, hand on her chest, and collapsed, never regaining consciousness despite his and the 911 operator’s attempts to keep her heart pumping until the paramedics arrived.
Moving didn’t compare with the living nightmare of losing someone he’d expected to be around when he was old and gray.
At the very least until their son entered elementary school.
As he watched the house dwindle in the side mirror of the family SUV, he calculated he should be rounding the acceptance stage of grief right about now.
About damn time.
“Bye, house,” his son Lyon, age seven going on seventeen, announced from beside him. Gone was the Superman action figure he’d clung to last summer. Now his sidekick was his iPad. He had one earbud stuck in his ear and one dangled onto his chest, as per their agreement that Lyon not completely shut him out. Though the music wasn’t loud enough for him to hear—another of their agreements—Evan knew it was tuned to classic rock.
Definitely his kid, he thought with a smile.
With 1417 East Level Road behind them, he turned his attention to the city that lay ahead; the city he’d called home since he’d married one beautiful, sassy woman named Rae, the curvy black girl who’d busted his balls about nearly everything since they were teenagers.
God, he missed her.
She’d built a life alongside him, settling into her nursing career while he set up his tattoo shop.
Before striking out on his own, he’d been under the tutelage of tattoo master Chris Platt; a hippie to rival all hippies, with a heart of gold and a head full of titanium. By the time Evan had packed up his things and gave notice, Chris let him know under no uncertain terms that he believed in him and his abilities. And that he’d succeed.
He had.
“Bye, Woody,” Lyon piped up.
Evan turned his head as they drove by his shop where Woody had worked for years, and as of three months ago, had purchased outright. Woody had stepped in the year Rae died, when Evan’s concentration revolved around breathing in and out, and keeping a three-year-old boy alive. It was no small feat and, at the time, had taken everything he had.
“Will you miss it, Dad?”
He threw a glance into the rearview, but there was no need. He knew the shop’s façade as well as his own face. The crack on the sidewalk out front that sprouted dandelions every spring, the brick crumbling on the southeast corner. The black marquee done up to look like an old-fashioned apothecary that read LION’S DEN. Rae’s idea, and in honor of their one and only offspring. Save for the fact their lion was a Lyon, which she insisted suited Evan’s rebellious, go-against-the-grain demeanor.
She was right.
An image of her shining brown eyes, huge smile, and that horribly ugly sea foam green bathrobe she insisted wearing on her days off popped into his brain, and he felt his smile turn sickly.
“Dad.”
“Yeah, buddy,” he finally answered, his throat dry as he watched Lion’s Den grow tiny in the rearview. “I’m gonna miss it.”
What he wouldn’t miss were the memories of his late wife assaulting him everywhere he turned in this city.
“What about Leah?” his son asked as they pulled onto the highway. Evan ground his back teeth together.
Leah had been one of his, for lack of a better term, “friends with benefits” for the majority of the year. And though he arranged to keep his dates secret from his son, she’d “stopped by” unannounced last month when she saw the SOLD sign go up in the yard.
Angry tears had shimmered in her eyes while her hands gripped her purse like she might brain him with it. He hadn’t understood why. A long time ago, they discussed that what they had was about the physical and nothing more. She’d insisted on arguing with him, in front o
f Lyon no less, and Evan had to do the unfortunate business of dumping her—when they were never really dating—on his front lawn. It was a dick move, but then, so was sleeping with a woman on a tit-for-tat basis.
No puns intended.
Speaking of tat, his eyes zeroed in on the sparrow on his right forearm, the string of hearts snapped free, the broken heart drifting. That one was for Rae. The roses on his arm were for his mom and his aunt. A lotta death. Too much, too soon. They said bad things happened in threes. For his and his son’s sakes, he hoped the adage continued staying true.
“Daaaad.” Irritation lined his kid’s voice when he didn’t respond right away.
“Sorry, buddy, I was thinking. No, I won’t miss Leah,” he answered honestly.
Another dick thing to admit, but she hadn’t meant all that much to him. Them in bed, cordial would be the best way to describe how he’d treated her. As awful and uninspiring as it sounded. That’s what they’d both settled for, which was equally awful and uninspiring.
He bit back the grimace attempting to push forward on his features. Rae wouldn’t like who he’d become if she could see him now.
But she couldn’t see him now. She hadn’t been able to see him since the moment she’d collapsed four years ago and he hadn’t known he’d been five minutes away from losing her forever.
He wished he could remember their last conversation, but he’d been distracted. Not listening.
“Me either,” Lyon said, snapping him out of his reverie. “Leah was mean.”
Evan blew a breath out of his nose, as close to a laugh as he was gonna get, and considered that Lyon was the only reason he hadn’t spiraled into a whirlpool of depression.