Finding the Right Girl (A Nice GUY to Love spin-off)

by Violet Duke

  Rubi pressed both hands flat against his bare chest. His skin was damp and warm and soft, the muscle beneath hard and radiating heat. A stream of liquid fire rolled through her body. His nipples tightened with her touch, stirring the craving she’d been restraining for weeks. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, wishing she could stroke it across the deep brown nub.

  As if Wes had the magical power of focus, everything outside her field of vision dimmed. Lexi’s self-directed mutters melted into nothing. The other guys’ chatter dissipated. The noise outside faded.

  Even at five-nine, wearing three-inch heels, she had to tilt her head to look into his eyes. His gaze was heavy-lidded, but sharp, serious and scorching. Those full lips had lost their grin and his jaw ticked with pent up energy. There was definitely a more intense side to this easy-going country-boy—one that coaxed her interest and ramped her desire.

  She balanced herself with pressure against his chest and slowly lowered. Keeping her gaze pinned to his, her hands slid down the hard wet muscle. God, he was utterly delicious.

  Curling her fingers into the waistband of what she could see now were shorts beneath—too bad—she used his body to steady her as she rocked to her knees.

  His gaze had transitioned into something primal. Something hungry. Predatory. Rubi let herself imagine what he’d do to her now if they were alone. How he’d slide his big hands into her hair, guide her mouth to his cock and draw her forward until he was buried to her throat. A telltale tickle signaled growing moisture between her thighs.

  Speaking to Lexi while holding Wes’s smoldering gaze, Rubi added heavy suggestion into her voice. “What do you need?”

  A touch of satisfaction, of power, flicked one corner of his mouth.

  Lexi grabbed Rubi’s hands, moving them to a pair of round contraptions on either side of Wes’s hips. “Hold these right there.”

  “Will do.”

  Wes let a hand fall toward her face. He traced the tip of one finger across her forehead and lifted a strand of hair, setting it aside. The move was so sweet, so intimate, a fist balled in her stomach.

  “You look good right there, Russo,” he said, his voice low, the thick heat wafting over Rubi’s skin like warm air. “Really good.”

  His finger traced a tingling path down her cheek and across her jaw. Then his hand opened and his thumb swept the angle of her cheekbone. The sensation created such a decadent sensation inside her, Rubi had to fight to keep her eyes open.

  “And you look good right there, Lawson.” She forced her voice light to hold the teasing edge. Letting him know he unnerved her was not an option. “Really good.”

  Lexi pulled at something near the base of Wes’s spine and his hips swayed closer to Rubi’s face. His grin grew, and Rubi bit her lip against a laugh.

  Footsteps sounded on the trailer’s stairs. “Are we ready for lunch?”

  Jax’s question, clearly asked before he took in the scene, gave her laughter an escape route.

  Wes pressed his thumb against the center of her lower lip, dragging her mouth open a little more, then murmured, “Just say the word…”

  And I’ll be your lunch.

  He didn’t need to say the words for her to know what he was thinking. What they were both thinking.

  Excerpt from A Maine Christmas…Or Two

  By

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author J.S. Scott

  and

  Cali MacKay

  This book contains two brand new, steamy, contemporary romance Christmas stories from NY Times and USA Today Bestselling author J.S. Scott and Cali MacKay.

  Although these stories are connected to both authors’ current series, they are easily stand-alone reads with no cliff hangers.

  The Billionaire’s Angel by J.S. Scott (The Billionaire’s Obsession Christmas Story)

  Considered an eccentric beast by most of the residents in Amesport, Maine, Billionaire Grady Sinclair stays isolated on his private peninsula in a grand mansion most people are afraid to approach. The arrangement suits Grady just fine, until a fearless angel lands on his doorstep, making him painfully aware of how lonely he really is, and how much he wants to keep the fiery blonde cherub for his very own. But will he have to become the monster the townspeople believe him to be in order to get his Christmas wish?

  Emily Ashworth needs money, and plenty of it. As director of the Youth Center of Amesport, she either finds the funds she needs to supply Christmas presents and other items she needs to purchase to give the kids of Amesport a Christmas, or they won’t have one at all. Desperate, she ventures to the Amesport Peninsula to ask the wealthiest person in the area to provide a Christmas for her misplaced, abused, or troubled kids, and to help keep the doors of the much-needed refuge open. Emily is shocked when she meets Grady, and surprisingly more attracted to him than she has ever been to any man. He might have seemed like a barbarian in the beginning, but Emily quickly learns that Grady is nothing like she’d imagined. Was the monster of Amesport truly the very devil, or just a lonely man who needs the gift of love for Christmas?

  A Mermaid Isle Christmas by Cali MacKay –

  Once Aidan Nordson made his fortune, he was finally able to leave behind the world that left him broken and scarred. Escaping to Mermaid Isle, all he wants is to be left alone to live his life and deal with his demons, but when a blizzard hits and strands Chloe Madison at his door, the gorgeous and feisty brunette stirs feelings in him he’d rather push away. Forced together by fate and circumstance, can Aidan let go of the past that haunts him so he can learn to love again or will the storm in his heart swallow him in its darkness?

  The Billionaire’s Angel

  (c) J. S. Scott

  Emily couldn’t see well, but she squinted into the swirling snow and pushed her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose. Passing several private driveways, she kept on going, knowing Grady’s home was the very last one.

  The road ended at his house, and Emily forged ahead, parking her truck in the circular driveway and turning off the engine.

  I must be insane!

  Before she had time to think about what she was doing and leave, Emily grabbed her purse and slammed the door of the truck closed. Glad she was dressed in a sweater and jeans for the weather, she just wished she was also wearing a pair of boots, her sneakers slipping and sliding in the fresh, wet snow.

  The house was massive, and she gaped at the heavy oak doors in front of her, wanting to run away as fast as her slippery shoes would take her.

  “What kind of single guy owns a house this humungous?” she whispered in awe.

  Answering herself, she said, “A man who has enough money to donate for the Youth Center.”

  With that thought in mind, she strode determinedly forward and pressed the doorbell harder than she needed to, causing her feet to slide out from under her and land ungracefully in a heap on Grady Sinclair’s doorstep.

  That was a fabulous and graceful entrance, Emily. Impress him with your professionalism.

  Disgusted with herself, she scrambled for purchase on the icy stone porch, trying to hastily get to her feet before he answered the door, but she slid again and landed flat on her rear end, flinching as her tailbone hit the unyielding surface. “Damn!”

  Abruptly, the door swung open, and Emily Sinclair got her first look at the beast from an undignified position on her frozen ass.

  Her glasses were wet and foggy, but he looked like no beast she had ever seen. He did, however, look pretty fierce, dark, and dangerous. Without saying a word, Grady Sinclair stuck his hand out as though he completely expected her to take it. She did, grasping his hand as he pulled her to her feet like she was as light as a feather. Trying to straighten up quickly to regain some modicum of dignity, she gawked up at him. She was tall for a woman, but he dwarfed her, towering over her menacingly. He was dressed informally in a tan thermal shirt that stretched across rippling muscles and a massive chest. He was sporting a pair of jeans that looked worn, and he fil
led them out in a way she’d never seen a man wear a pair of jeans before.

  Holy crap! Grady Sinclair was hot. Scorching hot. His dark hair was mussed, and he had a just-rolled-out-of-bed look that made her want to drag him back to a bedroom. Any bedroom. He looked like he hadn’t shaved today, and the dark, masculine stubble on his jaw just added to the testosterone waves she swore she could almost feel pulsating from his magnificent body and entering hers, making her squirm just a little at her body’s reaction to him.

  She drew in a deep breath as his gray-eyed stare seemed to assess her, and finally came to rest on her face. “Hi,” she said weakly, unable to form any intelligent words right at the moment. Her brain was mush and her cheeks flushed pink with mortification. This just wasn’t the businesslike, graceful entrance she had hoped for, and her lustful reaction to Grady Sinclair had her uncharacteristically flustered.

  I need to get it together. I’m acting like an idiot. I need this donation.

  He grabbed a fistful of her jacket and tugged her inside, closing the door behind her. Plucking the glasses from her face, he used his shirt to clean them before he handed them back to her. “You don’t look like one of Evan’s usual women,” he said gruffly. “Bedroom is upstairs.” He pointed his thumb toward the spiral staircase on the far side of the enormous front room.

  Emily stared at him blankly for a moment, and then slanted her gaze toward the living room to try to clear her head. She certainly couldn’t seem to think straight when she was looking directly at him.

  Bedroom? What the hell is he talking about? Evan’s women?

  “I think you have me mistaken for someone else. I don’t know you, and I’m not acquainted with Evan. I came to ask a favor.” Who does he think I am?

  “And you’re offering your favors for a favor, right?” he asked grimly, his graveled baritone almost disapproving.

  Her head jerked back to his face. “What? No. What kind of favor?” she replied suspiciously.

  “My brother Evan told me I needed to get laid, which generally is followed by a woman arriving here at my house. I usually just send the women away with a check. But I’ve decided I’ll take you,” he said huskily.

  Emily gulped. “Someone sends you women…as in prostitutes?” Good God, the last thing Grady Sinclair needed was a hooker. She couldn’t think of one single woman who would actually turn him down. “Do I look like a whore?” she asked irritably, suddenly offended by the fact that he’d thought she was for sale. But she felt a shiver of need slide down her spine and land right between her thighs at the thought that he actually wanted her, and what he might do to her if she was actually a woman for hire. She wasn’t beautiful and she was curvy, her ample figure a little more than most men found attractive.

  He reached out and unzipped her jacket, divesting her of the garment and hanging it on a hook by the door. Turning back to her, he said slowly, “Nope. You don’t. That’s why I want to fuck you.”

  Emily gasped, his blatant words and heated appraisal making her flush. “Well, I don’t know Evan and I don’t want to do that.” Liar. Liar. She so did want to do that, but she wasn’t about to admit it when he’d just insulted her. Besides, she didn’t do casual sex. “I’m Emily Ashworth and I’m the director of the Youth Center of Amesport. I wanted to talk to you about a possible donation.”

  She shuddered as his intense, molten gaze swept over her body and back to her face, staring at her with a look so smoldering and hungry that her core clenched in response.

  “You’re cold,” he said abruptly, taking her frozen hand in his and leading her through the living room, down the hallway and into a cheery kitchen. “Sit,” he demanded huskily as he dropped her hand, halting at the kitchen table.

  Emily sat, so confused that she was unable to make herself do anything else. She watched silently as Grady Sinclair moved around the kitchen, his large body maneuvering with a fluidity of motion that shouldn’t be possible for a man as large and muscular as he was. Watching him from behind was almost mesmerizing. She was jealous of the denim that was cupping an ass so tight that she could see the flex of muscle beneath the seat of his jeans as he moved, and it was a view she couldn’t bring herself to look away from for some time. Finally, ripping her gaze from him, she let her eyes wander around the kitchen—a bright, airy room with beautiful granite countertops and polished wood floors. Beyond, there was a dining room with a formal, polished wood table, but the room was dim, sparsely furnished, and looked seldom used.

  He sauntered to the kitchen table moments later and pushed a mug in front of her, sitting down next to her with his own cup in hand. Emily placed her cold fingers around the mug, sighing as she inhaled the hot, fragrant brew. It was a hot apple cider, and she took a long sip, the warm liquid instantly starting to warm her. “Thank you,” she told him quietly as she set her mug back on the table. “So will you consider it?”

  “Why?” he questioned darkly, his heated gaze spearing her as she squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.

  “The Center needs money.”

  “Why?” he asked again, lifting a brow as he sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving her.

  He knows I’m desperate, that there’s a reason I’m here so late asking for money.

  “A man I was dating stole the operating money from the Center and we can’t keep running without a significant donation,” she admitted, wondering why she was feeling the need to be completely honest with him.

  Starting hesitantly, she spilled the entire story about the money being stolen as Grady watched her, his expression unreadable as he listened. “So would you be willing to help?” she asked nervously as she finished her story.

  He was silent, his expression contemplative as he continued to look at her. Intense minutes passed before he finally answered, “I might be willing to consider it. But I’d want something in return.”

  She picked up her mug and took another sip of cider, swallowing awkwardly before she spoke again. “What? I’ll do whatever I can to get you what you want.” The whole future of Amesport depended on his answer. Emily knew she had nowhere else to go and no other solution.

  “That’s good, because you’re the only one who can get it for me,” he agreed casually. “Because what I really want is you.”

  Emily nearly choked, sputtering as she swallowed. Dear God, maybe Grady Sinclair was the Amesport Beast after all. “I need to give the town of Amesport a Christmas, they need the Center to stay open, and I’ll do anything to keep from disappointing the kids there, but I’m not sleeping with you to do it,” she told him indignantly.

  “We don’t need to sleep,” Grady replied gruffly. “And I hate Christmas.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Violet Duke is a former professor of English Education who is ecstatic to now be on the other side of the page writing wickedly fun contemporary romance novels. When she's not arguing with her story characters or feeding her book-a-day reading addiction, she enjoys tackling reno projects with her power tools while trying pretty much anything without reading the directions first and cooking 'special edition' dishes that laugh in the face of recipes. Violet lives in Hawai'i with her two cute kids and similarly adorable husband.

  Visit me at:

  http://www.violetduke.com

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  VIOLET DUKE is the pen name of Nina Nakayama, lovingly chosen in honor of her two adorably wacky kids. Nina blames her lifelong addiction to reading on the public library she all but lived in as a kid. Now decades later, she's still a bonafide book junkie with a book-a-day habit she can't kick and nightly reading-by-flashlight binges. You could say that reading was her gateway obsession, with writing being its natural progression. And she couldn't be happier for it. She gets to scramble after a bunch of untam
ed story characters in her head for a living, without the fear of men in white coats and butterfly nets coming after her—not for those reasons anyway.Like the heroines in her novels, Nina has had her fair share of ups and downs in life...along with a quirky happily-ever-after she couldn't have written better herself. Her dream house on O‘ahu is one that some crazy builder let her draw up the plans for via an old bargain bin architecture software readable only on WinXP or older. And the hero of her romantic tale is a guy who, after getting her number from her former student, tricked her into nightly marathon phone calls while she’d been trying to focus on her doctoral dissertation. She ended up falling in love with the sneaky man within weeks­—before ever meeting him in person—and marrying him a few months later. Now, whenever folks ask what inspired (possessed) her to one day put a pin in her career as an English Ed professor to pursue her dreams of becoming a romance author, she smiles and points an accusatory thumb at him.