by Anthology
“There you go saving me again,” he said, slipping his arms around her from behind as Julia knelt next to the Haitian woman and Adrianne waved over an interpreter.
She rubbed her hands over the backs of his. “I always will too.”
He set his chin on top of her head. “Someone has to.”
She laughed and turned in his arms. “You’ve saved me just as much.”
“Yeah? From what?”
“Never having a golden wedding anniversary party thrown by my five children and eleven grandchildren.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Ah, Ad, of course I’ll marry you.”
“There’s one condition.”
“Uh huh.”
“We have to get married in Sapphire Falls.”
He pulled her in close and hugged her. “Of course we do.”
“At the new site of Sapphire Hills.”
“You have a new site?” he asked. “Ken Stevens sold you the land?”
“Yes, clear on the other side of town.” She didn’t mind a bit. That farm was now in her heart as much as it was in Mason’s.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” he said sarcastically. “It’s closer to the highway. People might actually stop and buy something now,”
She grinned. “Well, they won’t be stopping in for taxidermy services at least.”
Mason chuckled. “How’d you get the rest of the money?”
Her grin grew. “Dr. Lauren Davis.”
Mason’s eyes widened. “You know, I really think I need to hear what happened between you and Lauren on your way to DC.”
“It’s a little crazy,” Adrianne warned him. But she was smiling as she said it. They could handle crazy. They could handle anything as long as they were together.
“Bring on the crazy,” he said, his own smile huge. “I don’t know much about being normal anyway.”
About the Author
Erin Nicholas is the author of sexy contemporary romances. Her stories have been described as toe-curling, enchanting, steamy and fun. She loves to write about reluctant heroes, imperfect heroines and happily ever afters. She lives in the Midwest with her husband, who only wants to read the sex scenes in her books; her kids, who will never read the sex scenes in her books; and family and friends, who say they’re shocked by the sex scenes in her books (yeah, right!).
You can find Erin on the Web at www.ErinNicholas.com,
on Twitter (http://twitter.com/ErinNicholas)
and on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/ErinNicholasBooks)
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Look for these titles by Erin Nicholas
Now Available at all book retailers!
The Bradfords
Just Right (book 1)
Just Like That (book 2)
Just My Type (book 3)
Just the Way I Like It (short story, 3.5)
Just for Fun (book 4)
Just a Kiss (book 5)
Just What I Need: The Epilogue (novella, book 6)
Anything & Everything
Anything You Want
Everything You’ve Got
Counting On Love
Just Count on Me (prequel)
She’s the One
It Takes Two
Best of Three
Going for Four
Up by Five
The Billionaire Bargains
No Matter What
What Matters Most
All That Matters
Promise Harbor Wedding
Hitched (book four)
Boys of Fall
Out of Bounds
Single titles
Hotblooded
Sapphire Falls
Getting Worked Up (book 2)
Getting Dirty (book 3)
Getting In the Spirit (Christmas novella)
Enjoy this Excerpt from
Getting Worked Up
Sapphire Falls book two!
by Erin Nicholas
Available now!
Phoebe Sherwood is in love with the perfect man. Well, except for the fact that he’s in love with someone else. But Phoebe isn’t the type to let a little detail like that keep her from getting what she wants.
And as she’s plotting how to get him back, she meets the perfect solution—Joe Spencer. The city boy is in town to retrieve his sort-of fiancée—the woman who stole Phoebe’s man—and when he hears Phoebe’s plan to reclaim their respective soul mates, he’s in
Bright and sparkly. That’s Joe’s first impression of Phoebe. He’s always been attracted to sparkly things—like neon casino signs, sequined evening gowns and Porsches. In fact, his affinity for those things, and the trouble they can cause, are exactly why he’s determined to change his habits and settle down.
But if he’s going to win his girl back, he’s going to need to learn a new way of life. Country line dancing, guzzling homemade moonshine and getting rid of his custom-made suits are what it takes to fit into Sapphire Falls…and he’s got some work to do.
And Phoebe is the perfect coach.
And everything will be just fine…as long as they can keep their hands off of each other and remember which hearts they are trying to win over.
Excerpt
Joe groaned as Phoebe led the way to the booth.
He was so not at his best right now. Meeting the town did not seem like a good idea at the moment. Or any of the moments in the foreseeable future.
But Phoebe stopped before they slid into the booth and called out—loudly of course, “Hey, guys, this is Joe.” The woman even walked loudly. She was wearing flip flops that slapped against the tile floor as she walked. He could only imagine how noisy she’d get in heels.
There was only one other table occupied this early and it was actually made up of four tables pulled together. The chairs haphazardly circling the tables were filled with men who looked like they ranged from old to damned old. They all wore jeans, T-shirts, dirty work boots and caps.
Joe sighed.
“Hey, Joe,” several of them called back. He also got saluted with a couple of coffee cups. Then one yelled, “Whatcha doin’ here, boy?”
Joe didn’t think he could yell loud enough to be heard without his head exploding. He braced himself and opened his mouth, but Phoebe pushed him into the booth. “He’s workin’, Frank. Leave him alone. He doesn’t feel so good this mornin’.”
“He get into Borcher’s Booze or somethin’?” the guy called back.
Phoebe snickered. “You got it.”
“Good for you, boy, way to jump right in with both feet.”
Joe gave him a weak smile and a wave. If he felt better after breakfast, he’d go over and try to make nice, but right now he needed to hydrate.
Phoebe took a seat on the bench across from him and crossed her arms on the table top. “You gonna make it?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’ve been worse off than this. But it usually involves way more liquor, a couple cigars, staying up until the sun comes up and—” He caught Phoebe’s wide eyes and shifted on his seat. Maybe that was too much sharing too early on.
“And a couple of blonds and brunettes on the side?” Phoebe asked.
He cleared his throat. “Past life. That’s over. I’m turning over a new leaf.”
Phoebe gave him a knowing look. “That’s not a denial on the multiple girls.”
“Past life,” he repeated.
“Ah.” She nodded. And certainly didn’t seem shocked or disgusted. “Well, you’re gonna have to change your ways if you’re gonna live here,” Phoebe said. She was studying the back of the booth beside his shoulder with a frown.
“What do you mean? If Borcher’s Booze is a regular thing around here, you’re all way wilder and tougher than me,” he said lightly.
Phoebe looked up. “Well, there is that.”
“
Then I should be fine.”
“Sure, as long as vanilla is your favorite flavor, you’ll be great.”
He leaned in. “Are we talking about vodka, ice cream or sex?”
She leaned in too. “Do you like vanilla in any of those things?”
“Nope. Vodka isn’t my drink and I like some flavor and even a few add-ins with both ice cream and sex.”
“Add-ins?” Phoebe repeated.
“Like crushed up Oreos and colored sprinkles.” Joe made note of Phoebe’s bright blue sleeveless top. He also knew that her capris were yellow, as were her flip flops, though they had blue rhinestones that glittered from the straps.
He really did like colored sprinkles.
“You use Oreos and colored sprinkles during sex?”
He grinned. “Sure. Or chocolate syrup. Or edible body lotion. Or other add-ins. You know…toys, handcuffs, naughty costumes. That kind of stuff.”
Phoebe licked her lips and Joe couldn’t look away from the shine on her bottom lip. “What kind of costumes?” She was practically whispering now.
Phoebe Sherwood never whispered. He’d known her fewer than twenty-four hours and he knew that.
He liked this. He lowered his voice too. “I’ve always been partial to naughty teachers.”
Phoebe blushed.
He liked that too. It was probably almost as rare as the being quiet thing. But he didn’t know why she’d be blushing. “Do you have a naughty teacher costume?” he asked, so hoping the answer was yes.
“I am a teacher.”
He thought about that, his grin growing. “And here I was gonna say that I thought my new favorite might be a naughty farm girl.”
She blushed brighter at that and he laughed.
“You shouldn’t be flirting with me,” she finally said.
He sighed, his smile fading. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“You can’t really help it though, huh?”
“It tends to get the better of me.”
“You’re gonna have to tone it down.”
“Hanging out with you isn’t going to help me there.”
They sat looking at each other. Joe honestly didn’t know how he should feel at that moment. Maybe apologetic, but that didn’t seem to be sinking in.
Phoebe opened her mouth, snapped it shut and pressed her lips together.
Yeah, Phoebe biting her tongue also didn’t likely happen often.
“What?” Joe asked.
“Nothing.”
“You were going to say something.”
“Nah, it was nothing.”
“Phoebe, come on. You can say it.” He dropped his voice again. “Especially if it’s something dirty.”
She took a short breath. “There you go again,” she said.
“Told you I can’t help it with you.”
She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m going to ignore that, because it’s trouble.” She opened her eyes again. “I shouldn’t say what I was thinking. It’s none of my business. We barely know each other. And it probably doesn’t matter.”
Ignoring the attraction between them was a good idea. “I have a feeling that not saying something you think is pretty hard on you.”
“Incredibly hard.”
He smiled at her quick admission. “Then just spill it. If it doesn’t matter, then it still won’t matter after you say it out loud, right?”
That seemed to be enough permission for Phoebe. “I can’t see Nadia dressing up in naughty costumes or using toys,” she said in a rush. “I mean, she’s let her hair down and loosened up some since being here—it’s hard not to around our gang—but she’s still pretty buttoned up.”
Joe wasn’t sure how to respond. Phoebe was right. Unless Nadia had undergone a personality transplant, she was far from spontaneous or daring. She’d grown up around the wild and crazy like he had and gave anything too risqué a wide berth. As a scientist, she was all about predictability and controlled environments. Of course, that was before she’d gone to Haiti for six months. He knew she’d been pushed outside of her comfort zone there and she’d changed from the experience. Maybe that had made her more willing to try new things.
“Maybe she just hasn’t been with the right guy so far.”
It was a long moment before Phoebe responded to that. “Yeah, maybe. I know that things with her and Matt are pretty…”
“Vanilla?”
She nodded.
“How do you know?”
“Girl talk.”
“Girl talk?” He leaned in. “What kind of girl talk?”
“Exactly the kind you’re thinking of. We drink margaritas and talk about everything, including men and sex.”
“And Nadia told you about her sex life with Matt?”
“Yes. And that it’s good. But she’s never mentioned toys or handcuffs or food.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want to tell you.”
“Well, it’s definitely come up. Why wouldn’t she say anything? The rest of us have talked about what we’re getting and what we wish we were getting.”
Joe knew that he should be more interested in what Nadia had said—or hadn’t said—but he couldn’t help but ask, “What are you getting and, more importantly, what do you wish you were getting, Phoebe?”
Phoebe narrowed one eye. “I don’t see any margaritas here and you’re definitely not a girl.”
“I’m happy to tell you all about what I wish I was getting. And some of the stuff I’ve gotten in the past.”
“We really should not have that conversation, Joe.”
“Probably. But you want to, don’t you?” He felt it every time her gaze drifted to his mouth, and he noticed every time she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was her tell for when she was getting turned on. “Don’t you, Phoebe?” he asked.
One Hot Fall Term
Book 1 of the Yardley College Chronicles
By Sharon Page
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Chapter One
It’s only the first weekend in September, but it’s cold out here on the dock. I undo my jeans and wriggle to push them down, exposing my butt in thong underwear to the frigid night air. I can see my breath even though last week it was still scorching hot. Goosebumps race over my bared butt cheeks. They already sprinkle my arms and chest, since I’ve stripped down to my bra and my t-shirt is lying on the planks of the dock, beside my shoes.
I stop and rub my arms, trying to warm up. Am I covered in bumps because I’m cold or because I’m nervous? When I’m finally naked, I’m supposed to jump into the lake. And that rippling, black water looks freezing. Waves slap against the side of the dock. The smell of smoke from the cabin’s fireplace fills the crisp air. Music sounds faintly from the cabin and laughter spills off the deck. The sounds of an end of summer party. And I have to bite my lip because tears are burning in the corners of my eyes. I’m nostalgic sometimes, and this weekend—my last before I leave for college—is killing me. In so many ways.
I have my back to Ryan, but I peek over my shoulder. In the pitch dark—clouds cover the sliver of moon—I can barely see him. I hear the boards creak under his feet and his fly unzip, and I hear his breathing. Ryan runs ten miles every morning and evening, and he never seems to be out of breath when he’s finished. But tonight, his breathing sounds fast and furious.
Just like mine.
“Whoa Jesus, that’s cold.”
I take another peek and hear his footsteps as he walks to the end of the dock, out of my field of vision. I suppose I can’t ogle him until I get everything off and let him get a look at me.
I’ve never seen Ryan naked. That’s funny and strange, coming from me, but I promised I was going to be different—everything was going to be different when mom and I came here to Milltown to live. It was like starting over again. And by some miracle I found something I thought I’d never find, something I believed I was too screwed up to ever have: an amazing, sweet, decent—not to mention uber
-gorgeous—guy.
When Ryan went west to do his tour of his future military college in the summer, he sent me a rose. A single, perfect red rose in a crystal vase, delivered to my front door by courier. Why? Because he was going to be away from me for two days and he missed me.
Even remembering it, standing freezing on the dock, I start blinking. Damn, the tears are starting. I promised I would get through this one night without crying. I will have lots of time to cry on the trip to Yardley College—two days to do nothing but think about Ryan.
Tonight I get to see him. I’m not going to screw that up by being sad a couple of days early. Tonight I know exactly what I’m going to do. This is probably it for Ryan and I—he’s going to be in the state of Washington at a military college, I’m going to be at Yardley College in New Hampshire. For tonight, I’ve decided to ditch the good girl thing.
I’m going to make love to Ryan for the first and basically only time.
I’ve got one night to throw away all my promises to be sweet and good—the exact opposite of what I really am. I’ve thought about sex with Ryan for months now, and I’ve restrained myself. But I don’t want to go the rest of my life wishing I’d taken the chance to make love to a guy I love.
So I commit. I shove down my jeans and kick them aside. Undies next or bra? I guess the bra, and it’s a fight to unhook it. Bras are my addiction. This one is candy pink with white lace and even though it’s dark, the bra practically glows. My breasts bounce as it comes off and tighten as a wave of goosebumps wash over them. My nipples go hard at once and I cup my boobs with my hands in a desperate attempt to warm them.