(#5 of Love Happens)
Author: Jodi Watters
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Military
Publication date: March 20th, 2020
Pre-order: Amazon (US/UK/CA/Aus)
A lust story. Only meant to be temporary.
A love story. Always meant to be permanent.
A hate story. Never meant to be.
This... is all three.
It started in an elevator in California. Our lust story.
You know, the kind you know going in is a bad idea, but... the nagging desire and all. A few drinks in the hotel bar across from our workplace. A few nights in a luxury suite twenty floors above. What could it hurt?
Innocent fun would be had by all, and I’d walk away a well-satisfied woman. Ready to continue my life of brokenhearted loneliness.
It started on a ridge in Afghanistan. Our love story.
You know, the kind you felt in your soul at first sight, but... the tragic circumstances and all. Intentionally casual conversation over Irish whiskey. Intentionally casual sex over the course of two weeks. How could I refuse?
Guilt-ridden bonds would be built, and I’d confess my darkest sin. Beg for forgiveness five years overdue and clean my conscience along with it.
It started with the cold hard truth. Our hate story.
You know, the kind that could end a surprisingly beautiful beginning.
Excerpt . . .
His rose-colored glasses were dislodged by a hot blonde—and yes, Nolan was right, he did always look on the bright side. Force of habit to offset his profession. And yes, Nolan was right that she smelled like peaches. Ripe and juicy, with a dollop of sugary sweet cream on top.
But back to the problem at hand.
Nicole’s surprise offer of no-strings sex—nothing more, nothing less, thank you kind sir.
As it turns out, theirs wasn’t gonna be a story they could tell the grandkids.
It could be a story for an erotic website. Perhaps a smutty romance novel. For sure, a fantasy you conjured up when you lost your internet connection during a solo session.
But a downright illegal story for the faint of heart, minor-aged children, and his ninety-year-old grandma.
She didn’t want a casual, exploratory relationship.
She didn’t want commitment.
She wanted another C-word entirely. A sexually explicit C-word, and yeah, he was good at that. And sure, he desperately wanted to do that to her, among other sexually explicit things. And no, she’d not outright asked him for cunnilingus, because had she, he would’ve choked on his Jameson and required the Heimlich Maneuver. But she’d made her parameters known.
Now to be clear, this wasn’t a bad thing.
It just changed up his timeline a bit.
Giveaway . . .
About the Author . . .
I live with my high school sweetheart husband in the desert Southwest. Awesome in the winter, not so much in the summer.
My life long goals are to think before I speak, smile more and swear less, and actually weigh what my driver's license states I do.
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