This book is not a standalone. It is the sequel to ‘Neanderthal Seeks Human,’ it is book #1.5 in the ‘Knitting in the City’ series, and it is a full length, 105k word novel.
There are three things you should know about Quinn Sullivan: 1) He is madly in love with Janie Morris, 2) He’s not above playing dirty to get what (or who) he wants, and 3) He doesn’t know how to knit.
After just five months of dating Janie, Quinn—former Wendell and unapologetic autocrat—is ready to propose marriage. In fact, he’s more than ready. If it were up to Quinn, he would efficiently propose, marry, and beget Janie with child all in the same day—thereby avoiding the drama and angst that accompanies the four stages of pre-matrimony: engagement, meeting the parents, bachelor/bachelorette party, and overblown, superfluous wedding day traditions. But Janie, much to Quinn’s dismay, tosses a wrench in his efficacious endeavors and challenges him to prove his devotion by going through the matrimonial motions, no matter how minute and mundane.
Will Quinn last until the wedding day? Or will he yield to his tyrant impulses?
Regardless, one thing is for certain, Quinn Sullivan will have to learn to expect the Spanish Inquisition (i.e. the unexpected) if he plans to have and keep Janie Morris as his wife.
Again, you must read ‘Neanderthal Seeks Human’ first before reading this book. This book is written in first person, alternating POV (Janie Morris AND Quinn Sullivan; but more Janie than Quinn).
Excerpt . . .
“These go all the way up.” He sounded disgruntled at this discovery. There was a visible frown in his voice. I wasn’t looking at his face because, again, hypnosis. Instead, I was scanning the list of issues and mentally reorganizing them based on importance and conversation flow.
I nodded because I assumed he was referring to the fact that I was wearing warm tights befitting the cold Chicago weather and not lace-topped thigh-highs. “Yes. Are you hungry? I made chicken and saved some for you in the fridge.”
“No, thanks. I grabbed something on the way home.” His hands continued their path upward. “Why are you wearing so many layers of clothing?”
“Because it was cold outside today. I think the high was twenty-four.”
“Are you cold now?”
“Then….” Quinn paired this non-thought with a swift tug-yank that landed me on his lap. His fingers had already inched my tights and cotton underwear down a few inches before I could protest.
“Wait! Wait a minute!” My hands gripped his shoulders mostly due to instinct, and I squirmed away. His mouth was once again on my neck, and he gifted me wet kisses along the column of my throat.
“I need my wife.” His words were hot and possessive, causing me to shudder both inwardly and outwardly. I knew this shudder. It was the hypnotized shudder of cautionless desire.
“I’m not your wife, I’m your fiancée.” I arched my back, offering him more of my neck.
“Same difference,” he mumbled between kisses. He’d successfully pulled my tights to my upper thighs.
I grabbed his hands and held them still. “But we need to talk.”
“It can wait,” he whispered, leaning back to catch my eye, but his hands didn’t move.
I, stupidly, met his gaze and nearly forgot my name.