Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo
—
EXCERPT:
Finn stepped through Maggie’s back door and immediately ducked, dodging the flying tennis ball at the last second. Without that fourth cup of coffee, that sucker would have nailed him right in the damn eye. As it was, he was alert—and jittery—as hell.
Don’t give the caffeine all the credit.
Tossing his keys on her kitchen counter, he hesitantly walked across the tile floor, approaching the living room with caution. There was… Shit, he didn’t know what to even call the wide assortment of household items littering her floor. There was obviously a purpose to it all, but that was a code only Maggie could crack. Entering her Alice in Wonderland of a mind made The Butterfly Effect look like a walk in the park.
“What the hell am I looking at right now?”
Maggie’s head whipped in his direction, whisps of her dark hair plastered to her temples where she was sweating. “Canine calisthenics.” She stated it like he was dumb for not seeing it with his own eyes. “The vet says Berkeley’s weight is teetering right on the edge. Gotta keep my boy in shape, Jamie Lee Curtis and John Travolta style.”
“Isn’t that the movie where they spend an entire scene air-humping each other from across a room?”
He dodged another tennis ball that came flying at his head.
“Leave it to you to only remember the tawdry details of an 80s classic.”
The closer he looked at the objects around him, the more shapes he could make out. She had created her own makeshift obstacle course for their four-legged pet. Canine apparatuses of her own invention were set up throughout the house. As was always the case with Maggie, there was a method to her madness. One only she understood, but there was something to be said for it.
Finn rolled his eyes. “Just so you know, the vet only says that so you’ll keep coming back. He’s more interested in checking out your ass in your spandex pants than whether Berkeley’s put on a pound or two. Trust me, his weight is fine.”
A new song came over the speaker that Berkeley seemed to recognize because his tail started wagging like crazy. Maggie caught him when he excitedly stood up on his hind legs, and they proceeded to dance in the middle of the living room.
Oh, Jesus.
Finn only just noticed the matching leg warmers they were wearing. And headbands.
“Since when is my dog a Shakira fan?”
“Since always. He’s part Colombian, after all.”
“We found him on the side of Highway 21, Mags. Pretty sure he didn’t hitchhike from Bogotá.”
“But his spirit animal did.”
“He is an animal.” When Maggie swerved her hips, he swore Berkeley mimicked her. Finn scraped his hands down his face, groaning. “Look what you’re doing to my dog. He’s going soft on me. He didn’t even bark when I entered the house without knocking.”
“Why would he bark at you?”
“He wouldn’t have known who it was when the door first opened.”
Berkeley dropped back down to all fours and copied Maggie when she started twirling in circles. “If anyone is softening up this dog it’s you with all those steaks you’re feeding him. Why do you think he’s having weight issues?”
His molars ground together. “He’s not having weight issues. The vet is having infidelity issues. Dude is married, yet he’s drooling over you like Berkeley does when I pull our steaks off the grill.”
“Ribeyes or porterhouses?”
“What does it matter?”
“If I’m going to be compared to a steak, it better be the finest slab of meat on the market.”
For whatever reason, the moment she said those words, Finn’s eyes dropped straight to her ass. He wasn’t even conscious of the action. Some otherworldly compulsion—likely a demonic possession—seemed to take hold of him. She had on a pair of those ungodly tight pants women wore when they worked out. There were slits cut in the spandex that were made of a sheer, mesh material, and her top was one of those dri-fit tanks that had a built-in bra thing. Maggie still always wore a brightly colored sports bra when she worked out, though, regardless of any built-in material. She couldn’t exactly go without one, considering how…ample…her chest was.
Jesus Christ.
Why was he thinking about her chest size? Or her bras? For fuck’s sake, he only looked because Maggie talking about being compared to a steak had the words prime meat flashing like a goddamn neon sign in his head. Holy shit, he was as bad as the vet. An actual Neanderthal.
The next words out of his mouth proved it to be true.
“You know you’re filet mignon, Mags.”
She tripped over a couch cushion and stared at him in shock.
Oh, motherfuck.
Author Bio:
Melanie grew up in the Midwest, but she loves living in the Southeast (where the beaches are!) now with her husband and daughter.
Melanie's other passion is traveling and seeing the world. With anthropology degrees under their belts, she and her husband have made it their goal in life to see as many archaeological sites around the world as possible.
She has a horrible food addiction to pasta and candy (not together...ew). And she gets sad when her wine rack is empty.
At the end of the day, she is a true romantic at heart. She loves writing the cheesy and corny of romantic comedies, and the sassy and sexy of suspense. She aims to make her readers swoon, laugh out loud, maybe sweat a little, and above all, fall in love.
Go visit Melanie's website and sign up for her newsletter to stay updated on release dates, teasers, and other details for all of her projects!Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Bookbub / Twitter
No comments:
Post a Comment