The Original Heartbreakers
New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter is back with a sizzling Original Heartbreakers tale featuring a troubled playboy and the woman he can’t resist…
Beck Ockley is ruthless in the boardroom...and the bedroom. He's never been with the same woman twice, and vows he never will. With a past as twisted as his, meaningless sex keeps the demons at bay. His motto: One and done. No harm, no foul.
Harlow Glass is the most hated girl in town. The beautiful artist is penniless, jobless and homeless. When she sneaks into Beck's home—her ancestral estate—for food, she's shocked by his early return...and her immediate, sizzling and intense attraction to him.
For the first time in Beck's life, he can't get a woman out of his mind. All too soon, friendship blooms into obsession and he'll have to break her heart...or surrender his own.
THE HOTTER YOU BURN
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FROM CHAPTER 26
After their explosive encounter in the car, he drove her to the farmhouse. He led her into his private bath room, where they showered, cuddled in bed together, and talked in hushed, secret tones.If you pre-order THE HOTTER YOU BURN by July 27th you'll have a chance to 1 (one) of 4 (four) different prizes. Get the details here & good luck!
“Since you can’t ride my nonexistent mustache ev erywhere,” he said, “what kind of car would you like? And don’t tell me a car is too expensive a gift to—”
“Please. I like gifts. Gimme. But a car is a car. I don’t care what kind.”
He made a noise of disbelief. “A car is not a car, Miss Glass. You take that back right now.”
“Never!” She squealed when he tickled her, finally admitting, “I don’t even have a driver’s license.”
“What?” he demanded, and she shrugged.
“I had one, but I let it expire in high school and never got it renewed.”
“You have a reason to get it renewed now.”
And the funds, apparently. “True, but I haven’t driven in years. I’ll endanger the entire town.” “Just means you need to practice. You can drive us to the Berryween Festival.”
“You’ll be placing your life in my hands.”
His eyelids grew heavy, hooding the dark, carnal gaze underneath. “Baby, there’s no place else I’d rather be.”
She curled around him, resting her head on his shoul der, drawing little hearts over, well, his heart. “I’ll keep you safe. I was only in, like, six fender benders back then, and only, like, five of them were my fault.”
He chuckled, his warm breath tickling the top of her head. “I’m feeling safer already. I’m also think ing I should give you a bumper car instead of the key to my Jag.”
“No take-backs,” she said. “You offered the Jag, so I’m driving it. I’ve developed a need for speed.”
“In the past two minutes?”
She nipped at his nipple. “Seems like forever.”
He cupped her bottom and squeezed. “Careful. You keep that up, and you’ll find yourself flat on your back, Beck Jr. deep inside you.”
“You mean the Baconator?”
He barked out a laugh. “You’ve named my penis the Baconator?”
“What? I like bacon.”
“Well, I’m naming your breasts Strawberry Pie and Strawberry Shortcake.” Rolling her to her back, he cupped the strawberry twins, licked one nipple, then the other. “Hey, girls. Did you miss me?”
Moaning, Harlow ran her fingers through his hair. “They missed you so much.”
“Good. Wrap your legs around me, and I’ll give them a more intimate hello,” he said, and when she stiffened suddenly, he lifted his head. “What’s wrong?”
Habit urged her to say the typical, “Nothing. I’m fine.” But if she trusted him, she would share with him. “I’ve heard you say that very thing to other women.”
His brow furrowed with confusion. “How do you know?”
“When I was camping on my—your—land, I would come to see the house every night and there you’d be. And it doesn’t bother me anymore, it really doesn’t. I don’t know why I reacted that way. I’m sorry.”
He peered at her for a long while, his expression in tense but unreadable. Finally he said, “Wrap your legs around me, Harlow.”
She did—without stiffening—fitting her body around his, placing her core right against his massive erection. His hiss of breath blended with her deliciously agonized gasp.
“Do you know what I remember about those women?”
She shook her head, not sure she really wanted to know the answer.
“Nothing. And do you know what I’ll always re member about you?”
Melting into the mattress while somehow dissolv ing into him, she scraped her nails down the plane of his back and said, “Tell me.”
Gena Showalter is a New York Times and
Today bestselling author whose works have appeared in Cosmopolitan and Seventeen magazines, as well as Entertainment
Weekly. Her novel Red Handed has
been optioned by Sony Television. Critics have called her books “sizzling page-turners”
and “utterly spellbinding stories,” while Showalter herself has been called “a
star on the rise.” Her mix of humor, danger and wickedly hot sex provides
wildly sensual page-turners sure to enthrall. USA