KCBR Blog

Only You, an all-new sexy and emotional standalone from USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow is coming March 12th! 

Synopsis:

Nate Pearson is ridiculously handsome and wears the hell out of a suit and tie, but I’ve seen the parade of beautiful women leaving his apartment across the hall—a different one every time—and I want no part of it. When it comes to romance, I’m looking for something real, something that will last: the happily ever after.

As a divorce attorney, he loves to tell me there’s no such thing.

As a wedding planner, I choose to disagree.

We disagree on almost everything, in fact. Everything except James Bond. The only time we really get along is when we’re watching 007 flicks together, and I’ll admit—he has rescued me from a disaster or five. So when one of the baton twirlers from his parade leaves a baby girl at his door with a note that says “I’ll come back for her” and he begs me for help, I can’t turn him down.

But it’s a mistake.

Because watching him with his daughter, I start to see another side of Nate, a side that has my breath coming faster, my body craving his, my heart longing for him to change his mind about love and tell me there’s a chance for us.

I don’t want to be just another girl leaving his apartment in the morning.

I want to be the one he asks to stay.

Excerpt

“You know, even an alpha male can have feelings occasionally.”

“Oh?”

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter, giving me the evil eye. “Yes. He doesn’t have to be hard as granite all the way through, all the time.”

Don’t think about being hard. Don’t think about being hard. Don’t think about being hard. I leaned back against the opposite counter and sort of held my glass in front of my crotch. “Why are you even concerned with alpha males? You’re never attracted to them.”

“What? Yes, I am!”

“No, you’re not.” I knew her type well. “You’re always saying how you don’t want to be rescued, you want someone willing to show affection and talk about feelings, you don’t like arrogant or competitive guys or guys who always have to win, you like guys who get along with everyone—”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. But that’s not an alpha male.”

She chewed her bottom lip. “But look at Bond. Who is he so worried about protecting? Why is he so driven to kill the bad guys? There must be people he cares about more than himself to put himself in harm’s way so often.”

“Maybe he just likes the thrill of the chase.”

“Maybe he’s more selfless than you think.”

“In this case, I think we’re going to have to disagree.”

She sighed heavily, and I knew I had disappointed her by ending the argument in a draw instead of winning or losing it. Any other night, I might have kept it going, but there was something odd going on with me, something that had me wanting to close the distance between us, set her up on the counter, slip my hands beneath that fuzzy white sweater she had on, see what her legs felt like wrapped around my hips. But I knew better.

Get her out of here before you do something stupid.

“Hey, you got fortune cookies? I didn’t see those.” She reached for the little cellophane bag.

“I forgot about them.”

“Can I have one?”

“You can have them both.”

She took one out and cracked it open. “A ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not why ships are built.”

“Very deep.”

She ignored me and went on to the next one. “You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” Her lips pursed. “Hm. I don’t want a dangerous ship or a broken heart.”

I laughed at the anguish in her tone and expression.

“It’s not funny,” she said, shoving pieces of cookie in her mouth. “It means I’m doomed to be unhappy. And then I’m going to die in a shipwreck.”

“It means you take things way too seriously.” I tipped back the last of the bourbon in my glass, and set it in the sink. “Well, I’ve got an early morning at the gym tomorrow.”

She popped the rest of one cookie in her mouth and brushed off her hands. “I’m going. What time is it anyway?”

I checked the digital clock on the microwave. “It’s 11:11.”

Her face lit up. “Ooh! Make a wish!”

“What?”

“It’s 11:11, you have to make a wish.” She closed her eyes for a couple seconds, her lips moving as if saying a silent prayer. Then she opened them. “Did you do it?”

I laughed. “No.”

“Nate! Hurry up! Make a wish.” She glanced at the clock and flapped her hands agitatedly.

“I don’t have a wish to make.”

“So make one for me, then. And do it fast, before it’s 11:12.”

This time it was my turn to roll my eyes, but secretly I wished that the next guy she fell in love with would love her back the way she deserved, and she’d be happy. But I didn’t close my eyes, and I didn’t move my lips, so she had no idea whether I’d made a wish or not.

“Did you do it?” She looked concerned.

“Yes.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

Her mouth fell open for a second. “What was it? What did you wish for me?”

I started to laugh as I left the kitchen. “Nice try, Calamity. Even I know you don’t tell a wish if you want it to come true.” The credits were still rolling on the television, and I picked up the remote to turn everything off.

“Oh, now you believe in wishes?” She sat down on the couch and tugged on her fluffy boots.

No, I wanted to tell her. I don’t, because I learned a long time ago that wishes and prayers and hopes don’t mean anything. No one is listening. But I didn’t tell her that, not only because she was looking up at me with my favorite expression of hers, the one daring me to fight back, but because at that very moment, I heard a noise in the hall.

A strange and oddly terrifying noise.

I looked over my shoulder toward the door, thinking I must have imagined the sound.

Then I heard it again—the unmistakable, ball-shrinking, cringe-inducing sound of a baby’s wail.

Preorder exclusively on iBooks!

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About Melanie:

Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her heels high, and her history with the naughty bits left in. When she's not writing or reading, she gets her kicks from TV series like VEEP, Game of Thrones, House of Cards, and Homeland. She occasionally runs three miles, but only so she can have more gin and steak.

Melanie is the author of the AFTER WE FALL series, the HAPPY CRAZY LOVE series, the FRENCHED series, and the sexy historical SPEAK EASY duet, set in the 1920s. She lifts her glass to romance readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI, where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and pet rabbit.

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Read an excerpt from Gentleman Nine by Penelope Ward.  I was lucky to read this book early and I LOVED IT! 

GENTLEMAN NINE

(A standalone)

Release date: 2/19/2018

A Contemporary Romance Novel

New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author 

Penelope Ward 

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Synopsis:

From New York Times bestselling author Penelope Ward, comes a new, sexy standalone novel.

Growing up, the three of us were friends.

He was the nerd.

I was the playboy.

She was the beauty.

Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits.

He lied.

I went off to college, and he got the girl.

Amber never knew how I felt.

They were together for years—before he broke her heart.

Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch.

When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.

Still reeling from her breakup, she’d sworn off men.

One night, I opened her computer to find the shock of my life. She’d hesitantly contacted a male escort company. Afraid to date and get her heart broken again, she was looking for sex with no strings.

Every emotion imaginable ran through me: protectiveness, jealousy—curiosity.

Amber had chosen Gentleman Number Nine and sent him a message.

She opened up to him, confessing, among other things, her physical attraction to her friend—me. But she considered me off-limits—and she thought I was a manwhore. (Ironic, considering the circumstances.)

Eventually, she set up a date to meet Gentleman Nine at a hotel. 

When she showed up several nights later to meet him, she was stunned to see me standing there—with an offer I hoped she wouldn’t refuse.

About the Author

Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She’s a seventeen-time New York Times bestseller. Her novels are published in over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 13-year-old girl with autism and a 12-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island. 

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EXCERPT

G9,

Is that what your friends call you? I like that. Thanks for the answers.

That’s an interesting question—why tonight of all nights? Well, I saw my ex tagged on Facebook with another woman, and that put me over the edge. But it’s more than that. Lately, I’ve developed a strong attraction to a good friend of mine, and that’s sort of screwing with me a bit. He’s actually temporarily living in my condo, but he’s someone I’ve known for years. I’ve always thought he was extremely handsome, but it’s complicated. He and I would not be a good match romantically. He’s not the monogamous type, or at least, he never used to be. We’re better off as friends. He was also the best friend of my ex years back, so there’s that. Having him around, though, has made me more sensitized to my sexual desires. Little things like the waft of his scent, the way he touches the small of my back when he passes by me in the kitchen…it’s like my body is on this constant state of alert. So, I was thinking if I could just—for lack of a better word—get laid, maybe I could get this feeling out of my system.

—Amber

My jaw was open as I just sat there staring at the screen.

Holy shit.

I read it again.

And again.

And again.

I honestly didn’t think that Amber felt that way about me. She would always make jokes about me being good-looking, but her attraction to Rory proved that her taste wasn’t exactly conventional. Now, I really felt like shit for invading her privacy, because there was no way she would’ve been okay with confessing that to me. I never imagined any of this had to do with me. I’d assumed it was solely about Rory.

She wanted to use another man to f*ck me out of her system?

That revelation left me shocked and confused—not to mention hard as f*ck thinking about the fact that Amber wanted me.

Up in Smoke, an all-new gritty standalone romance by T.M. Frazier is coming February 19th, 2018!

Synopsis 

I’m a man without a conscience. 

I deal in murder and mayhem.

I’m the best at what I do. 

Frankie Helburn is supposed to be an easy job. 

A means to flush her father out of hiding.

Simple. 

Except there isn’t anything simple about Frankie or the secrets she’s keeping. 

She’s stubborn as hell and the sexiest god damn thing I have ever seen, sending dark, dirty animalistic desire coursing through my veins. 

She’s cocaine with legs. A f*cking addiction that makes me question things I’ve never questioned before. Want things I’ve never wanted before. 

I might have her, but she isn’t mine to keep. 

If her father doesn’t show his face, she will be mine. 

To KILL.

** Other books in the King Series DO NOT have to be read to enjoy Smoke's book. Up in Smoke can be read as a standalone. ** 

Excerpt: 

“All these bruises,” Smoke muses. “And not one of them caused by me.” He trails a hand up my arms and down my flat stomach. “Pity, but I still have time to leave my mark on you yet.”  

My entire body stiffens. I’m as rigid as a corpse. 

Smoke chuckles and I’m glad I’m facing away because his laugh is pure torture, causing his erection to vibrate against my folds which are aching for more contact. 

“You will be punished, hellion. You can be sure of that.” 

I look over my shoulder and meet his dark eyes which darken even further as his pupils dilate. His lingering gaze rakes me over from my feet to my breasts and back down to the space between my thighs. He licks his full bottom lip. 

My stomach flips. My will to fight him off doesn’t waiver, but my body isn’t getting the message. My core clenches again. I turn back around to face the tile, digging my teeth into my lower lip until I taste my own blood. 

His chest presses against my back, and his hardness pulses between my legs, rubbing against my inner thighs. He squirts some shampoo in his hand, working it into my hair. He tilts my head back and rinses my hair then slides his slick and soapy hand down my body. 

I’m breathing rapidly now. Short quick breaths I can’t control. There’s a deep rumble in his throat. His hand travels lower and lower on my stomach until it’s between my legs. He’s working his thumb over my swollen nub, sending sparks of need, pangs of pleasure, and a wave of self-hatred, surging within my battered body and bruised soul. 

“What…what are you doing?” I ask, seeing flashes of white hot lust behind my closed eyes. 

“More questions…” his voice a hearty amused rasp. His fingers circle my clit while he continues to rock his hard cock between my legs. The pressure building is so strong it borders on painful. 

Tears leak from my eyes. I’m so fucking mad at myself for being turned on. For Smoke being right. I’m so wet. He feels it. There’s no way he can’t feel it.  

He leans in close. I’m stone still except for the tremors gripping my body. He licks the tear off my cheek and groans. He dips the tip of his finger inside of me and I tighten around the intrusion. It’s a foreign sensation. Strange. It feels both wrong and right. Pleasurable and painful. “Your tight little pussy is weeping too. I wonder if its tears taste the same.” 

I look over my shoulder as he withdraws his finger and sucks it into his mouth. He groans. “Fear or desire. They both taste real fuckin’ good to me.” 

He places his hand back between my legs. When I try to squeeze my thighs together to keep him out he parts them with his knee on a grunt and begins circling my clit again. This time harder. Faster. 

I’m staying as still as I can, but when I feel something begin to happen inside my body. The sparks he ignited within me are all crashing together. I can’t hold back. My face scrunches as I try to fight the orgasm fighting its way out, but it’s no use. I can’t fight it. It’s too fucking strong. I’m so fucking close. 

I arch my back without thinking, pressing my ass against him, begging for more. For what I need to push me over the edge. 

Smoke hisses. “Oh, what I could do to this beautiful little pussy.” 

The pleasure builds and builds as he strokes me harder. Faster. I’m about to come all over his fingers when the feeling is lost. 

I spin around. 

Smoke is gone. 

I can’t see through the steam so I shut off the spray and wipe the water from my eyes only to see Smoke toweling off in front of the sink on the other side of the bathroom. 

The only proof I have of what just happened between us was real is his cock. Erect. Thick. Huge. The purplish swollen head bobs against his abs, jutting out over the top of the towel he wraps around his waist. 

“What…what just happened?” I stammer, leaning back against the wall for support. 

Smoke steps forward, and when I go to jerk back, he reaches out and pinches my nipple painfully hard. I yelp and leap back, slipping on the tile, falling on my ass, taking the shower curtain down with me.

Smoke rips the curtain off my head and glares down at me with a triumphant grin on his evil beautiful face. “What just happened was called punishment and you got off easy. Next time I’ll split that tight pussy in two with my fucking cock.” 

He goes to leave but stops. “You want pain?” he asks. “I’ll give it to you. You want pleasure? Now that’s something you’re gonna have to earn.”  

He leaves, slamming the door behind him. 

I release a shaky exhale. 

I’d hoped the rest of my time with Smoke would be tolerable, but there’s no fucking way that’s going to happen. Not now. Not with my skin crawling with need. I’m losing my mind. About where I am. About what this is all about. About this beautiful horrible evil man. 

I feel like I’ve already been split in two. 

What Smoke is doing to me is far more than punishment. 

It's  pure fucking torture.

Preorder Today!

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About the Author: 

T.M.Frazier is a USA TODAY bestselling author. She resides in sunny Southwest Florida with her husband and her young daughter.

When she’s not writing she loves talking to her readers, country music, reading and traveling. Her debut novel, The Dark Light of Day was published in September of 2013 and when she started writing it she intended for it to be a light beachy romance.

Well…it has a beach in it!  

Connect with T.M. Frazier: 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TMFRAZIERBOOKS/

Twitter: @TM_Frazier

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http://www.tmfrazierbooks.com

xo, Zach
By Kendall Ryan

Standalone

Release Day: Jan 23, 2018

The first time we met was at a party.

Your ex arrived to show off the person he'd left you for last month, and you asked me to pretend to be your date. 

I was more than happy to help. You were attractive, smart and witty--and that kiss we shared? It left me wanting you for days. 

The second time we met was in my office on campus where we were both surprised to discover you were the new master’s degree student in poetry that I would be working with. You promised to be professional. I did no such thing.

The late nights and intense study sessions spent alongside you majorly throw me off my game. I want you, and I fight with myself daily over this fact. 

I know I'm crass, that my sexual innuendos and dirty mouth annoy you, but I live for those two bright spots of color in your cheeks. If that's the only reaction I can get out of you, I'll gladly take it. 

You hate Mondays so every Monday I slip an anonymous poem into your bag and your smile gets me through the week.

I think I'm falling for you, and I know it's wrong. I know that I'm only supposed to be your adviser and nothing more, but here's the thing. I think you're falling for me too. 

xo, Zach

Pre-Order Links:

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Audible:  Live release, narrated by Andi Arndt & Sebastian York!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author of more than two dozen titles, Kendall Ryan has sold over 1.5 million books and her books have been translated into several languages in countries around the world. She's a traditionally published author with Simon & Schuster and Harper Collins UK, as well as an independently published author. Since she first began self-publishing in 2012, she's appeared at #1 on Barnes & Noble and iBooks charts around the world. Her books have also appeared on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists more than three dozen times. Ryan has been featured in such publications as USA Today, Newsweek, and InTouch Magazine.

Visit her at: www.kendallryanbooks.com for the latest book news, and fun extras

FACEBOOK | TWITTER | INSTAGRAM | AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE | GOODREADS | BOOKBUB | NEWSLETTER

EXCERPT

"This is serious, Poppy. Will you promise?"

"What am I promising?" This man had a way of getting me to say things, to feel things, to admit things that I might not have otherwise. I wasn't sure if it was because he was older and wiser and that much more cunning at these types of discussions, or if it was just because being near him seemed to physically lower my inhibitions. He was like a walking shot of tequila. 

"I need you to promise me that if anything physical happens between us—that it will be very consensual, and very sex-positive. I need you to understand that I will worship you and make you come So. Many. Fucking Times."

He annunciated those words so clearly and slowly, I felt them with every beat of my heart, every pulse of heat between my legs.

Oblivious to my hammering heart, Zach continued. "But I also need you to know that if I do or say anything you don't like, all you have to do is say so and everything will stop. Just the word no, Poppy. Use it and I promise to leave you alone."

"Leave me alone as in stop mentoring me, stop helping me in the program?"

His face was serious and he shook his head without even considering it. "I will never stop mentoring you, as long as you want it. Giving in to our attraction—or not—will never be a condition for my help. I want you to succeed, and it has nothing to do with how much I want you in my bed. Do you understand that?"

I felt myself nodding my head. 

I knew what he was saying. Despite how aggressively Zach put his feelings on the subject of us out there—I knew he'd never betray my wishes. 

"Okay," I murmured.

He considered me for a long moment, neither of us blinking. 

"Why did you approach me that night at the party, Poppy. Did you find me attractive?"

Was he fucking serious?

Of course I find him attractive. Actually, attractive was too weak a word. I found him mesmerizing. Addictive. Enchanting. Impossible. 

"I'm not saying I do, but if I wanted something to happen ..." I swallowed a wave of nerves and took a shallow breath as Zach's mouth curved into a grin.

"Something as in finding out how many times in a row I can make you come using my mouth, my hands, and my ..."

I held up one hand. "Yes. That. How would it work, isn't it, like, forbidden?"

God, why did the word forbidden make me feel even hotter? 

BLURB:

My relationship with Hunter Delucia started backwards.  

We met at a wedding—him sitting on the groom’s side, me sitting on the bride’s.  Stealing glances at each other throughout the night, there was no denying an intense, mutual attraction.  

I caught the bouquet; he caught the garter.  Hunter held me tightly while we danced and suggested we explore the chemistry sparking between us.  His blunt, dirty mouth should’ve turned me off.  But for some crazy reason, it had the opposite effect on me.

We ended up back in my hotel room.  The next morning, I headed home to New York leaving him behind in California with the wrong number.

I thought about him often, but after my last relationship, I’d sworn off of charming, cocky, gorgeous-as-sin men. A year later, Hunter and I met again at the birth of our friends’ baby.  Our attraction hadn't dulled one bit.  After a whirlwind trip, he demanded a real phone number this time.  So I left him with my mother’s—she could scare away any man with her talks of babies and marriage—and flew back home.

I’d thought it was funny, until the following week when he rang the bell at Mom’s house for Sunday night dinner.  The crazy, gorgeous man had won over my mother and taken an eight-week assignment in my city.  He proposed we spend that time screwing each other out of our systems.  

Eight weeks of mind-blowing sex with no strings attached? What did I have to lose?

Nothing, I thought.

It’s just sex, not love.

But you know what they say about the best laid plans…

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(Amazon eBook will be a live release, no pre-order)

EXCERPT

“You’re not going anywhere before you do two things.”

“Two things?”

“Leave your number and kiss me goodbye.”

“I…I…you haven’t brushed your teeth.”

Hunter chuckled. It felt like he could see through all of my bullshit. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed his phone and held it out to me before getting up. “Toothpaste in the bathroom still?”

“The little one the hotel sets out.”

“I’ll brush. You type.”

While he was in the bathroom, I mulled over not typing anything into his phone. There was no way I was keeping in touch with a man living three-thousand miles away. A guy like him was the last thing I needed. But then I thought better of just telling him I’d put my number in. He seemed to have figured me out pretty quick. So instead, I typed my name and number, only I changed the last two digits.

And it was a good thing I did, because when Hunter returned from his bathroom trip, the first thing he did was check that I’d entered something. Luckily, he didn’t attempt to call me. Satisfied, he tossed his phone on the bed and nodded.

“Thank you. Now kiss me.”

I could see he wasn’t going to let me leave without this. So, sacrificing to make my plane, I pushed up on my toes and delivered a quick peck to his lips.

Mmm.... Nice and soft.

(And minty fresh.)

“Well…it was nice to meet you.” I turned to dart out the door, but Hunter grabbed my wrist yet again.

“I said kiss me.”

“I did!”

“Kiss me the way you kissed me last night.”

Before I could even attempt to let that sink in, Hunter yanked me against him. One of his large hands cupped the back of my neck, and he squeezed firmly to direct my head where he wanted it. Then, his lips crashed down on mine.

The shock of feeling his mouth against mine quickly dissipated as he licked my lips, encouraging me to open for him. His tongue dipped inside, and he groaned as he tilted my head and deepened the kiss. The vibration of the sound traveled between us and sent a hum through my body. Soft and gentle went out the window after that. He grabbed a fistful of my ass, and I lifted my body up onto his, wrapping my legs around his waist. As he backed us to the wall, a sense of familiarity overcame me. I couldn’t remember the specifics of our previous kiss, but I now knew deep inside what it had felt like.

My cell dropped from my hand so my fingers could tangle in his hair. Yanking on the soft strands, I couldn’t get enough. A moan from deep inside my chest moved through our connected mouths. Hunter pushed harder, his thick erection pressing into the center of my open legs. He rocked as he kissed me, causing a friction through two layers of clothing that was leading me to a place I didn’t think it was possible to go fully dressed.

It felt like he wanted to swallow me whole, and in that moment, I would have let him. My breasts were crushed to his chest, and a heartbeat raged out of control—only I wasn’t sure if it was my own or his. Jesus, where does a man learn to kiss like this?

I was breathless and stunned when our kiss broke. Hunter sucked on my bottom lip, tugging it before releasing my mouth.

His voice was strained. “Change your flight. We’re not done here.”

I swallowed, trying to gain some composure. “I can’t.” My voice was barely a whisper. It was all I could muster.

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

Vi Keeland

Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared in over eighty Bestseller lists and are currently translated in nineteen languages. She lives in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.

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An emotional and unforgettable new romance from New York Times bestselling author Kim Karr. The Thing About Love releases on JANUARY 3rd!

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Synopsis:

The whole stethoscope-and-white coat thing isn’t my cup of tea. 

I prefer a man with an artistic vein in his body. 9 - 5 hours. And I can definitely do without the half-lidded, sleepy bedroom eyes. (Okay, so those are kind of sexy.)

Tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t change the fact that he’s arrogant, cocky, and rude.

Not that I care, but he’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with a quirky girl like me, which is why he said no.

Turns out no isn’t an option.

I have a quickie wedding to plan, and Dr. Jake Kissinger doesn’t have a choice. He looks at our situation like he’s stuck with me, but in reality I’m stuck with him. Stuck with his pouty mouth. His long, lean body. And stuck with those loose, low riding scrub pants. (Okay, so the doctor thing is growing on me.)

When spending time together turns into more than it should, I know I’m in trouble.

He isn’t supposed to make my heart pound.

I’m not supposed to make him look twice.

And we aren’t supposed to spend the night together. (Okay, so he has more than one artistic vein in his body, and other places.)

Falling for him is definitely a mistake.

Here’s the thing…

Jake is unavailable, and I know it.

Just not in the way you might think.

I guess you can’t have your cake and eat it too.

By Kim Karr

Copyright 2017

If a barn could be magical, this one was definitely enchanting.

I was in a daze as I looked around. The rafters. The tables. The river. They all seemed to sparkle with a light I wanted to capture.

“Isn’t that right, sweetie?” The voice was deep and husky, but I was in my own world imaging what I could do with a place like this and not paying any attention.

An elbow nudged me, and it wasn’t until then that I realized I was sweetie.

Sweetie?

Seriously, the man with the DR before his name couldn’t find something a little sexier in his vocabulary to call me? Sugarcakes. Honeypie. Cookie, even.

“What’s that Chocolate Cake?” I smiled big and wide when I said it. Obviously, he was giving this little show all he had, so I figured I might as well, too.

Ignoring my taunt, Jake draped an arm around my chair just as Shania Twain’s “Any Man of Mine” came bellowing through the speakers.

When his fingertips brushed my shoulder, I wasn’t listening to the beat of the music though because butterflies took flight in my belly, and lower. I had to remind myself that this was part of the show, but still, I found myself having to squeeze my thighs together to sooth the ache his touch had ignited.

“I was just telling George how much you love to dance. Especially square dance,” he said.

I had been reaching for my water, and I practically spilled it when he said that. Was he out of his ever-loving mind? I didn’t know a thing about country dancing other than the fact that the word do-si-do had something to do with it.

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Yes, big boy, I do like to dance, but you know I prefer to watch you line dance because you’re so great at it. Besides, don’t forget, I did hurt my ankle not that long ago.”

His grin was beyond wicked. “You can be a klutz sometimes, but I seem to recall you assuring me your ankle was absolutely fine, and after I checked it out, I did concur with your self-diagnosis.”

Ethel tapped George on the shoulder, and when he looked at her, she whispered something in his ear.

“Did you say you wanted to dance, Jules?” George asked me over the music.

Before I could say no, George was on his feet and standing beside me with his hand extended. “Would you do me the honor of having this dance with me?”

Like I could say no now.

He really was so sweet. Dr. Kiss, on the other hand, well he was the devil reincarnated. “I’d be delighted,” I said and glared at Jake as I stood.

“Have fun, Sweetie,” Jake grinned.

I bent to whisper in his ear. “While I’m gone, do you think you could come up with something to call me that doesn’t make you sound like you might be George’s age.”

He narrowed that blue-eyed stare at me.

Satisfied with that, I pivoted around and didn’t look back.

The bridesmaids, in their short, peach dresses and cowboy boots, were having a blast stomping their feet and clapping their hands all while shaking their behinds and pressing their thumbs into their sides.

How on earth were George and I going to dance to this?

Thank God just when we reached the center of the dance floor, the music changed, and Tim McGraw’s voice came overhead. As Tim sang about how no one ever made him feel the way she did, George and I stepped into position.

He took my hands and started to move, ballroom style. This type of dancing I knew how to do. “So,” he said, “When are you and Jake planning on getting hitched?”

Up until now, I had been able to twist what I said so it didn’t sound like a blatant lie, but this question was pretty straightforward. “We haven’t decided yet.”

Which was true. In fact, we hadn’t decided a lot. Like as a starting point, if we were friends or enemies.

“I noticed you ain’t wearing a ring. He not gotten you one yet?”

“That’s complicated,” I answered.

And it was. He hadn’t gotten me one and he never would because he didn’t even like me, and after tonight, I was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to stand me.

“Well, he’s a good man. Give him some time. He’ll come around.”

Yes, he’d come around all right. Come around to telling me I was fired, which reminded me of Finn.

Where had he gotten his information?

I leaned back. “Is Labor Day weekend available for a wedding?”

George started to laugh. “You’ll give the man a heart attack if you make him move that fast.”

“Oh, I know, but just in case, is it?”

“As a matter of fact, it might be. A lad called here today inquiring about it though, and I told him to come up and see the place before I reserved it for him. Since he ain’t shown, I reckon it could be yours.”

“Good to know.” I winked.

He raised a curious brow.

I shrugged. “Just in case.”