by Candis Terry
Cyndi will find a fiancé also—everyone loves her—and we’ll have a double wedding, as sisters of the heart often do. It’ll be the first wedding my family has had in generations.
Everyone will watch us as we walk down the aisle. I’ll wear a strapless white Vera Wang mermaid gown with organza and lace details, crystal and pearl embroidery accents, the bodice fitted, and the skirt hemmed for my shorter height. My hair will be swept up. My shoes—
Voices murmur outside the condo’s door, the sound piercing my delightful daydream. I swing the telescope upward, not wanting to be caught using it. The snippets of conversation drift away.
I don’t relax. If the telescope isn’t positioned in the same way as it was last night, Cyndi will realize I’ve been using it. She’ll tease me about being a fellow pervert, sharing the story, embellished for dramatic effect, with her stern, serious dad—or, worse, with Angel, that snobby friend of hers.
I’ll die. It’ll be worse than being the butt of jokes in high school because that ridicule was about my clothes and this will center on the part of my soul I’ve always kept hidden. It’ll also be the truth, and I won’t be able to deny it. I am a pervert.
I have to return the telescope to its original position. This is the only acceptable solution. I tap the metal tube.
Last night, my man-crazy roommate was giggling over the new guy in three-eleven north. The previous occupant was a gray-haired, bowtie-wearing tax auditor, his luxurious accommodations supplied by Nicolas. The most exciting thing he ever did was drink his tea on the balcony.
According to Cyndi, the new occupant is a delicious piece of man candy—tattooed, buff, and head-to-toe lickable. He was completing armcurls outside, and she enthusiastically counted his reps, oohing and aahing over his bulging biceps, calling to me to take a look.
I resisted that temptation, focusing on making macaroni and cheese for the two of us, the recipe snagged from the diner my mom works in. After we scarfed down dinner, Cyndi licking her plate clean, she left for the club and hasn’t returned.
Three-eleven north is the mirror condo to ours. I straighten the telescope. That position looks about right, but then, the imitation UGGs I bought in my second year of college looked about right also. The first time I wore the boots in the rain, the sheepskin fell apart, leaving me barefoot in Economics 201.
Unwilling to risk Cyndi’s friendship on “about right,” I gaze through the eyepiece. The view consists of rippling golden planes, almost like . . .
Tanned skin pulled over defined abs.
I blink. It can’t be. I take another look. A perfect pearl of perspiration clings to a puckered scar. The drop elongates more and more, stretching, snapping. It trickles downward, navigating the swells and valleys of a man’s honed torso.
No. I straighten. This is wrong. I shouldn’t watch our sexy neighbor as he stands on his balcony. If anyone catches me . . .
Parts 1, 2, 3, and 4 available now!
An Excerpt from
COVERING KENDALL
A Love and Football Novel
by Julie Brannagh
Kendall Tracy, General Manager of the San Francisco Miners, is not one for rash decisions or one-night stands. But when she finds herself alone in a hotel room with a heart-stoppingly gorgeous man—who looks oddly familiar—Kendall throws her own rules out the window . . .
Drew McCoy should look familiar; he’s a star player for her team’s archrival, the Seattle Sharks. They agree to pretend their encounter never happened. But staying away from each other is harder than it seems, and they both discover that some risks are worth taking.
“You’re Drew McCoy,” she cried out.
She scooted to the edge of the bed, clutching the sheet around her torso as she went. It was a little late now for modesty. Retaining some shred of dignity might be a good thing.
She’d watched Drew’s game film with the coaching staff. She’d seen his commercials for hair products and sports drinks and soup a hundred times before. His contract with the Sharks was done as of the end of football season, and the Miners wanted him to play for them. Drew was San Francisco’s number-one target in next season’s free agency. She’d planned on asking the team’s owner to write a big check to Drew and his agent next March. And if all that wasn’t enough, Drew was eight years younger than she was.
What the hell was wrong with her? It must have been the knit hat covering his famous hair, or finding him in a non-jock hangout like a bookstore. Maybe it was the temporary insanity brought on by an overwhelming surge of hormones.
“Is there a problem?” he said.
“I can’t have anything to do with you. I have to go.”
He shook his head in adorable confusion. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more right now than to run her fingers through his gorgeous hair.
“This is your hotel room. Where do you think you’re going?”
She yanked as much of the sheet off the bed as possible, attempting to wrap it around herself and stand up at the same time. He was simultaneously grabbing at the comforter to shield himself. It didn’t work.
She twisted her foot in the bedding while she hurled herself away from him and ended up on the carpet seconds later in a tangle of sheets and limbs, still naked. Her butt hit the floor so hard she almost expected to bounce.
The number-one reason Kendall didn’t engage in one-night stands as a habit hauled himself up on all fours in the middle of the bed. Out of all the guys in the world available for a short-term fling, of course she’d pick the man who could get her fired or sued.
He grabbed the robe he’d slung over the foot of the bed, scrambled off the mattress, and jammed his arms into the sleeves as he advanced on her.
“Are you okay? You went down pretty hard.” His eyes skimmed over her. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
He crouched next to her as he reached out to help her up. She resisted the impulse to stare at golden skin, an eight-pack, and a sizable erection. She’d heard Drew didn’t lack for dates. He had things to offer besides the balance in his bank accounts.
“I’m okay,” she told him.
She felt a little shaky. She’d probably have a nice bruise later. She was going down all right, and it had nothing to do with sex. It had everything to do with the fact that, if anyone from the Miners organization saw him emerging from her room in the next seventy-two hours, she was in the kind of trouble with her employer there was no recovering from. The interim general manager of an NFL team did not sleep with anyone from the opposing team, especially when the two teams were archrivals that hated each other with the heat of a thousand suns. Especially when the guy was a star player her own organization was more than a little interested in acquiring. Especially before a game that could mean the inside track to the playoffs for both teams.
Drew and Kendall would be the Romeo and Juliet of the NFL. Well, without all the dying. Death by 24/7 sports media embarrassment didn’t count.
He reached out, grabbed her beneath the armpits, and hoisted her off the floor like she weighed nothing.
“I’ve got you. Let’s see if you can stand up,” he said. His warm, gentle hands moved over her, looking for injuries. “Why don’t you lean on me for a second here?”
She tried rewrapping the sheet around her so she could walk away from him while preserving her dignity. It wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t stop staring at him. If she let him take her in his arms, she’d be lost. She teetered as she leaned against the hotel room wall.
“I’m—I’m fine. I—”
“Hold still,” he said. She heard his bare feet slap against the carpeting as he grabbed the second robe out of the coat closet and brought it back to her. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s your decision, but I don’t understand what’s wrong.”
She struggled into the thick terry robe as she tried to think of a response. He was staring at her as she retrieved the belt and swathed herself in yards of fabric. Judging by his continuing erection, he liked what
he saw, even if it was covered up from her neck to below her knees. He licked his bottom lip. Her mouth went dry. Damn it.
Of course the most attractive guy she’d been anywhere near a bed with in the past year was completely off-limits.
“You don’t recognize me,” she said.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “Is there a problem?”
“You might say that.” She finally succeeded in knotting the belt of the robe around her waist, dropped the sheet at her feet, and stuck out one hand. “Hi. I’m Kendall Tracy. I’m the interim GM of the San Francisco Miners.” His eyes widened in shock. “Nice to meet you.”
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from Sweet Surprise copyright © 2015 by Candis Terry.
Excerpt from Various States of Undress: Virginia copyright © 2014 by Laura Simcox.
Excerpt from The Governess Club: Louisa copyright © 2014 by Heather Johnson.
Excerpt from Good Guys Wear Black copyright © 2014 by Lizbeth Selvig.
Excerpt from Sinful Rewards 1 copyright © 2014 by Cynthia Sax.
Excerpt from Covering Kendall copyright © 2014 by Julie Revell Benjamin.
SWEET COWBOY CHRISTMAS. Copyright © 2014 by Candis Terry. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition NOVEMBER 2014 ISBN: 9780062380296
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062380289
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