Bosom Buddies Episode One

Sabrina

Everything in life is a tradeoff.

At least, that’s the way I look at things. Take today, for instance. Here I was at the end of a twenty-four-hour shift at the hospital, and by all rights, I should have been heading back to my condo to collapse into bed for a solid eight hours of desperately needed sleep. But instead, I’d turned left out of the hospital parking lot and aimed my car toward the small town of Burton, located about forty-five minutes due west of Savannah.

I wasn’t driving all the way into town today, even though I was tempted to pop into my friend Celeste’s adorable lingerie shop and shoot the breeze with her. No, my destination was about ten miles outside of Burton: I was driving to a picturesque little piece of property that boasted a small lake, two acres of wooded land, and over a hundred years of fascinating history.

Oh, and it also included a rambling old mansion that hadn’t been occupied for several decades. Seeing the beauty it could become hadn’t been easy, but I had a discerning eye for spotting potential, and this house had it in spades. I’d fallen head over heels for the place and made a rare impulsive decision. I’d forsaken the search for a cookie-cutter suburban starter home and committed to another year or two in my soulless Savannah condo in order to fund the rehab of my dream home.

Last month, the work on the bones of the house—the structural support, electricity and plumbing—had all been finished. This week, the company I’d hired to handle the historical rehab was supposed to begin working its magic, and I couldn’t wait another moment to see what they’d done so far.

Hence, the tradeoff. I was giving up sleep in exchange for a quick walk-through of my dream home.

It was late afternoon, so I wasn’t completely surprised to see that there weren’t any trucks in the winding driveway that led to the house. Was I a tiny bit disappointed? Sure. I wanted to think that the people I’d hired were giving my precious project all of their time and energy and attention, but the truth was that they probably had other jobs going on at the same time.

Anyway, being alone would give me a chance to really soak it all in without anyone there to rush me along or ask pesky questions. There you go—yet another tradeoff.

I let myself in through the front door only because I wanted the full effect of stepping into the magnificent foyer. I wasn’t disappointed. The walls were freshly painted in an updated shade of their original color, and the woodwork we’d selected for this space was already up, and even though it hadn’t been finished yet, I could already see how gorgeous it was going to be.

“Oh, baby,” I murmured. “You are going to be so beautiful when they’re done. I’d say we’re restoring you to your former glory, but I think it’s going to be even better than that. Kind of like getting a facelift that makes you look like a sexier version of your twenty-year-old self.” I giggled to myself, thinking of all the women who would line up for that kind of surgery.

Kneeling down, I ran my fingers over the baseboards and craned my neck to examine the molding that ran along the top of the walls, seeing in my mind’s eye the old photos one of my contacts at the county historical society had dug up for me, the ones that we’d used to make style and color decisions. It really was like the original, only better.

I was about to stand up again and make my way toward the kitchen when I heard footsteps upstairs. That was disturbing; if the crew had left for the day, no one should have been here. But there they were again: yeah, someone was definitely upstairs, and whoever it might be wasn’t making any effort to disguise his or her presence.

My mind raced through a number of possibilities, landing on the worst one first. I’d heard that sometimes vagrants or addicts or criminals scoped out empty houses and camped out there when they were fairly sure no one else was around. My place was pretty far off the beaten track, but still . . . if someone happened upon it, they might not like the idea of being chased away, and if they felt cornered or had a weapon, I could be in trouble.

I moved slowly, reaching into my purse and groping blindly. Like most women, I’d learned young the defense method of threading keys through my fingers, and if I could find them now, I might be able to buy myself time to get to my car. I thanked my past self for feeling safe enough out here that I’d left it unlocked. The door was just a few feet away, and if I could get to it silently—

And then the footsteps sounded again—this time louder and coming closer. My heart pounded, and sweat broke out all over my body. I tried to swallow, but my throat was bone dry. I took a deep breath and was about to make a run for the door when I heard a deep voice.

“Sabrina?”

I looked up, lifting my eyes to the banister on the second floor where a man was staring down at me. I blinked, my mind darting this way and that as I tried to make sense of the stranger above me who knew my name.

It wasn’t Linc Turner, the co-owner of Kent and Turner, the historical restoration company I’d hired. I’d have guessed it was one of the men who worked for him, but I hadn’t met any of them. It might have been someone local to Burton—someone I’d met with Celeste or maybe through Young Survival Coalition, the breast cancer support network and organization where we both volunteered. But it wasn’t. Somehow, I knew I hadn’t seen this face in a long time.

But I didn’t know him. The familiarity was frustratingly fleeting and vague. I frowned, rising slowly as the guy who seemed to know me jogged down the steps. My keys were still in my hand, so if he turned out to be psychopath who somehow happened to know my name.

“I didn’t put it together . . . I mean, Hudson is a common name, right? But then I heard your car in the driveway, and when I looked out the window to see who was here, I knew it was you.” He took a step toward me.

I moved backward. “I’m sorry. I don’t . . .” My voice trailed off. “How do you know me?”

He was quiet for a moment, and then a half-smile curled his lips. My heart sped up again, but this time it wasn’t fear making my pulse race. It seemed that my body had realized who he was, but my head was slow to catch up.

And then he spoke, his voice low and husky.

“Brina girl.”

Just like that, it all came flooding back to me, and I knew without a shadow of doubt who was standing in front of me.

“Wesley?”

***************************

Who is Wesley?

And how does he know Sabrina?

Read next week and find out!

Meanwhile, catch up on all of the steamy romance happening in Burton right here!

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Teaser Tuesday: JUST ROLL WITH IT

Sometimes, the best-laid plans don’t work out the way you expect.

When law school student Amanda Simmons shows up at her friends’ engagement party, she’s not expecting to indulge in a wild one-night stand with the bride’s older brother. On the other hand, Vincent DiMartino is smart, sexy—and safe. He doesn’t want more than a quick hook-up, either. 

Or so she thinks. 

Vincent isn’t interested in long-term, and he has no desire for a serious relationship. His job as a pastry chef in his family’s restaurant demands all of his time and attention. His night with Amanda is supposed to be just that—one night. But he doesn’t bargain for how much he enjoys her sense of humor, her intelligence and her sass . . . not to mention to her unrepentant sensuality. 

Now that he realizes he wants more than just her body, can Vincent persuade Amanda to take a chance on him? Will she risk her heart on the man who was only supposed to be a fling? 

Sometimes plans go awry. And sometimes, you just have to roll with it.

JUST ROLL WITH IT is the long-awaited and anticipated fourth book in the Perfect Dish Romances. It’s releasing April 7th (my birthday!!) and I have a sexy sneak peek right here–just for you. After you read, be sure to click the PREORDER button below and get your copy ordered!

“Amanda.” My voice was rough. “Can I ask you a question?”

She rolled to her side to look up at me, and the neckline of her dress gaped as her boobs pressed together. Sweet mother Mary.

“Of course. You can ask me anything.”

I cleared my throat. “Are you wearing pantyhose or a garter? It’s been killing me all night, looking at your legs and wondering. I know I won’t get to find out for myself tonight, so humor me. Give me something for the spank bank.”

“Hmmmm.” One of her eyebrows quirked up. “Which would you find more . . . interesting?”

“Oh, come on,” I groaned. “Don’t make me choose. Just tell me.”

“What if I said neither?” Her fingers curled around the end of her dress, and slowly she began tugging it up. “I don’t like pantyhose. And garters can be uncomfortable sometimes. So when I have to wear stockings, I like . . . these.”

The green material moved out of the way to reveal a wide band at the top of the sheer black hose, which gave way to her creamy skin and then a hint of red lace.

Suddenly, my driver’s seat wasn’t so comfortable.

“You trying to kill me? Jesus God, woman. Look at you.”

“Sorry?” She sounded anything but.

I scowled, but a plan began to form in my mind. At the next intersection, I hung a sharp left and floored the gas, hugging the curves that took us off the main road and closer to the beach.

“Where are we going?” Amanda pushed up onto her elbows and peered out the window. “This doesn’t look like how Mom and I drove down from the hotel.”

“It’s called a detour, sweetheart.” When she tilted her head questioningly, I added, “Don’t worry. I’m not dragging you off into the woods for a quick fuck.”

“That’s a relief. I think.” She took a deep sniff, frowning a little. “Are we close to the ocean?”

“Yep.” I pulled into a small dirt lot. “This is Dawman’s Cove. Carl and I used to come down here sometimes to fish when we were kids. Well, more than kids . . . after Carl got his license and could drive us. It’s quiet, and not that many people come down here.” I turned off the car and stuck the keys in my jacket pocket. “C’mon.”

“Wait. Where are we going?” Amanda scrambled to sit up. “Vincent, it’s fucking cold out there. I don’t have a coat or anything. Just this little wrap. I’m going to freeze.”

“I’m not going to let that happen, baby.” I jogged around the car and tugged her out of her seat. “We won’t stay out here long. I just . . . I want to kiss you under the stars tonight. I want to hold you in the dark and hear the ocean pounding and believe in crazy things like eternity and forever.”

Her eyes were luminous as she closed her fingers around mine. “Vincent, just when I think you’re one thing, you shock the hell out of me and make me realize you’re something else.”

I laughed. “Don’t give me too much credit. I’m just not sure I’ll make it back home tonight in one piece after seeing what’s under your dress, and I need something to tide me over, since I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to see you again.”

She hesitated only a second before I knew she’d acquiesced. Keeping my hand firm on hers, I led her through the dark, down the uneven wooden plank walk until we were on the edge of the small secluded beach.

“Tide’s high,” I observed. “Plus, if I make you walk on the sand, you’ll break your ankle in those shoes.”

“You’re probably right.” She was breathless. “It’s so dark and quiet here. If it were summer, we could go skinny dipping.”

The image of Amanda dancing naked in the waves was enough to push me over the edge. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her body against mine until there wasn’t a breath of space between us. With one hand, I gathered the skirt of her dress up until her leg was bared. My fingers skimmed over the top of her stocking and then under the lace of her panties.

“Vincent.” She moaned my name. “What’re you doing?”

“Making a new memory for you, baby. I want you to remember how good we can be. Once you get back to the city and return to your real life tomorrow, you’re going to start to second-guess everything we talked about tonight. You’ll began to doubt what we said. I figure maybe I can give you a reason to believe in me.”

Bending my head, I covered her lips, tasting what I’d been craving for the past three months. Her tongue met mine, and as I stroked the inside of her mouth, I dragged my fingers over the wet and swollen folds between her legs. Her breath hitched, and she canted her hips to rock into my hand.

“God, Vincent.” She mumbled against my lips. “What do you do to me?”

“I make you feel good, babe.” My thumb pressed into her clit, and she cried out, gripping my shoulders and letting her forehead drop onto my chest. “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers, right here, and you’re going to come hard.”

She made some kind of undecipherable noise that was either consent or denial, but she didn’t pull away from me. I slid two fingers inside of her and pumped them hard, gritting my teeth as my cock grew painfully hard beneath the zipper of my fly.

“Vincent.” She was grinding into me now, her eyes closed and her lips open as she chased the pleasure. “God, oh god. Can you—god, harder. Right—right there.” With sharp gasp, she arched her neck, her legs stiffening and locking my hand where it was. I slowed the movement of my fingers, but I didn’t pull them away until she sagged against me.

“Are you cold?” I murmured into her ear as I held her tighter.

She shook her head. “I don’t feel anything right now except pure and unfiltered bliss. I think maybe I’m floating.”

I chuckled. “That good?”

“Mmmmm.” She hummed and lay her head on my shoulder. “But this isn’t fair to you. I’m all about reciprocity, but no way in hell am I getting down on my knees out here.”

“That’s okay. We’ll bank that IOU for the next time we’re together, okay?”

Amanda sighed. “Which will be . . .”

I snorted. “With that kind of incentive promised to me? Soon, baby. It’ll be soon.”

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Football is everything, but love is the only game that matters.

Leo, Quinn and Nate . . . They’ve been best friends forever, but life is about to take them in different directions. Decisions about love and friendship could change their paths forever.

Nate: He’s been in love with Quinn since junior high. She’s always been his fierce protector, the one person who looks beyond his physical challenges to see who he really is. But Nate knows the hard truth. Leo holds Quinn’s heart. He’s the one she loves.

Quinn: She’s tired of waiting for Leo to realize that he loves her. But when he finally admits his feelings for her, can they be together without destroying their friendship–and each other?

Leo: He’s the football star, the guy all the girls in school want. But the one girl he secretly needs–Quinn–is the one he’s afraid to want. He knows she’s too good for him, but he can’t seem to resist loving her anyway. 

Amid the joys and heartache of first love, crushing loss and unthinkable decisions, Leo, Quinn and Nate struggle to find their way forward without losing each other.

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