OUT OF BOUNDS by Erin Nicholas

OUT OF BOUNDS by Erin Nicholas
The Boys of Fall Series

In a town where football is the main religion and the boys on the field each fall are the deities, Jackson Brady had a charmed life. As the star running back on the sure-to-be Championship team, Jackson was living the dream. Until he pushed his luck just a little too far. And got suspended from the team just before the big game.

All because goody-two-shoes Annabelle Hartington had to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. Watching his team win the title from the bench was hell and if it wasn’t for Coach Carr’s influence, Jackson would have spiraled completely out of control. Instead, he just spiraled enough to lose his college football scholarship. From there, he took on the bad boy moniker with a passion akin to his passion on the field.

Now, twelve years later, it’s a no-brainer for Jackson when he’s asked to return to Quinn to help his Coach after his heart attack. Jackson’s grown up and gotten over the mistakes of the past. This is his opportunity to make up for everything. But they have to give him a chance.

And when he runs into Annabelle and sees how nicely Dr. AJ Hartington has grown up, he realizes that she is his key to getting back into everyone’s good graces. If the beloved and respected town veterinarian is willing to take a chance on him, then everyone will see that he’s a new man.

All he needs is to show her it’s a win-win situation. And winning is something he takes very seriously.

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Excerpt:

“Hi, Jackson.”

Annabelle’s soft voice behind him felt as if she’d stroked her hand down his arm. Every muscle in his arm and his stomach tightened. And maybe a couple a little lower.
From a simple “hi”?

That reaction definitely drew Jackson’s attention from the conversation at the bar. It had been mostly small talk, a few questions about Coach, and him trying to nonchalantly feel people out about any land for sale. Not to mention trying, unsuccessfully, to work his desire to bring some of the city teens to Quinn into the conversation. He needed to know if Tom was the only one who was against the idea or if that was going to rile up everyone.

But the moment Annabelle said, “Hi, Jackson”, he forgot about everything but wanting to know how her hair smelled. Again.

He turned to face her fully.

Damn, she looked good.

That was the thought that first hit him. And it was strange. She was wearing one of those full skirts again that didn’t show a thing. But the image of her in yoga pants was branded on his brain and he could easily conjure it.

The memory made him grin. “Hey, Annabelle.”

She took a deep breath and looked, if he wasn’t mistaken, a little shy. “I was wondering if you’d dance with me.”

Dance with her? Oh, really?

“I’ve never ever turned down the chance to have a beautiful woman in my arms,” he said.

She flushed and Jackson almost grinned in satisfaction. He did so love making women blush and with Annabelle it seemed so easy. But he couldn’t quite grin. He was working too hard on not giving away how much he wanted to have her up against him.

What the hell was going on?

She smiled and the feeling got stronger.

“Great.” She started for the dance floor without waiting for him.

Jackson took a second to watch her go and changed his mind about not liking the flowing skirts. They weren’t as good as yoga pants or nothing at all, of course, but there was something about the way the silky material draped over her hips, and swung against then away from the curve of her ass, that made a man’s heart rate pick up.

It was kind of like the difference between flirting and outright telling a guy “I want you”.

The blatant “I want you” was very, very nice. But a good flirtation was equally compelling once in a while.

Jackson glanced at the other men at the bar. None were watching Annabelle walk away.

That was good.

He thought he might want to keep the secret of Annabelle’s cute butt to himself.

Jesus. Cute butt?

Jackson started after her. When she got the edge of the dance floor, she swung to face him and the skirt swirled around her.
Jackson noticed her boots immediately. Annabelle might have spent her teen years in tennis shoes but she was still a Texas girl and eventually they all wore cowboy boots. These were red. Blood red. That did surprise him a bit.

“Damn. Was hoping to catch a glimpse of that music thing again.” He stepped close and held out his arms, palms up, ready to two-step her around to some George Strait.

“Music thing?”

“Your tattoo.”

“The one on my foot?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Is there another one?” Oh, damn, please let there be another one.

“There is. In fact, there are several more.”

Yes. Now to convince her to show him where. “Several?”

She grinned. “Yes.”

She still wasn’t getting closer. He wiggled his fingers. “I’m not used to women taking so much time to get up against me,” he told her. “I feel like a dumbass here, Annabelle. Come on.”

She blinked, then seemed to register what he was talking about. She laughed, said, “Sorry,” and stepped into his arms.

His hand settled on her lower back, hers on his shoulder as he took her other hand in his. They began moving in the steps that every kid in Quinn knew from the time they could walk. A country two-step was right up there with learning the Pledge of Allegiance and their bedtime prayers.

They began swaying and he just looked at her. Annabelle Hartington smelled like cupcakes.

Finally she asked, “What?”

“Shh,” he told her. “I’m imagining your other tattoos.”

She looked startled for a moment, then her face relaxed into a knowing smile that women have been giving men since the Garden of Eden. It was a mix of fake innocence and I’ve-got-you-right-where-I-want-you.

Which made something hot throb deep inside Jackson. He was right where she wanted him? She wanted him anywhere?

“What about them?” she asked sweetly.

But he was starting to suspect there was a spicy side to Annabelle.

He tightened the arm around her, pulling her closer. “What they are. Where they are.”

She licked her bottom lip. “Why don’t you just ask me?”

“My imagination is a lot of fun.”

He was flirting with her. That wasn’t exactly a shock. Jackson usually had to try not to flirt when he was dancing with women in bars. No, the surprising thing was that Annabelle seemed to realize it.

She certainly didn’t strike him as the flirtatious party-girl type. Yet there was a recognition in her eyes that said she knew exactly what was going on.

And didn’t mind a bit.

Annabelle tipped her head to one side, her lips curled in a soft smile and her body moved closer to his as the song switched to Brad Paisley’s soft ballad She’s Everything.

“I can almost guarantee,” she said softly, “that you will never guess what the others are. And you will probably only guess where about half of them are.”

Flirting had just ratcheted up to seduction. He was pretty sure. That’s how this felt, anyway. The only thing making him wonder was the fact that this was Annabelle.

“How many are we talking?”
“Eight.”

He knew his eyes went wide. “You have eight tattoos?”

She nodded. “Seven besides the one you’ve seen.”

Of course they could be tiny. Little daisies didn’t need to take up a lot of skin. But eight?

He’d dated women with tattoos before. Lots of them, in some cases. They were gorgeous and sexy and he loved them.

But there was something very sweetly sexy about Annabelle having seven other hidden tattoos that he really, really liked. Maybe it was because it was unexpected. But he thought maybe it was more that these tattoos were obviously only for her. She hadn’t done it to be sexy—especially if the majority were hidden. She’d done it because she wanted to. They would say something about her.

He liked that most of all. And he really wanted to know what they were now.

His grip on her hand tightened and he dropped his voice to a husky growl. “I think instead of guessing, I’d rather go on a treasure hunt.”

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ALL THAT MATTERS by Erin Nicholas

ALL THAT MATTERS by Erin Nicholas

The Billionaire Bargains, Book 3

Will Weston knows Emily Steele is too good for him. She's too good for any of the guys he knows-even if he does know an astonishing number of suave, handsome millionaires. But Emily's special. And he thought so even before he realized he had a little crush on his boss's niece.

Emily Steele would definitely consider herself intelligent and worldly. Born into privilege, she's been exposed to travel, culture and the best education. A billionaire's daughter, Emily is used to having everything she could ever need or want-cars, clothes, trips. But she isn't used to being single. When she decides she needs a break from her eight year relationship with the only boy she's ever even dated, Emily realizes she has a lot to learn. About the world and herself. And men. Definitely about men.

A friend's bachelorette party in New Orleans is the perfect place to get in touch with her inner vixen. Some drinking, dancing, flirting and fun seems like a great plan. Too bad she knows nothing about flirting. And has never actually met her inner vixen.

When Emily's uncle insists that his assistant, Will, accompany Emily to New Orleans, he knows it's not a good idea. The minute she was single, he suddenly became all too aware of how beautiful, charming and interesting she is. And that can only mean trouble. But when Emily offers Will's best friend a million dollars to be her date for the weekend instead, there is no way Will is staying behind.

Warning: Contains a woman with enough money to buy a date for a weekend in New Orleans, a guy who's never going to let that happen, a bachelorette party on Bourbon Street, hot sex to slow jazz and beignets... because there has to be beignets.

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Excerpt:

Copyright © 2015 Erin Nicholas
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

She took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ve been eating strawberry ice cream for eight years, and now I want to try something new, but I don’t think I should go straight for the double-fudge-brownie sundae with whipped cream and nuts. I need to start smaller—maybe a double scoop of white chocolate with some colored sprinkles or something.”

Will leaned on the counter top with one elbow and tried to be cool. He wanted to be patient, make her feel comfortable opening up to him, but there was a tension coiling in his gut, pushing him to figure this out. “Sorry, you’re going to have to spell it out more for me here.”

She looked annoyed. “Chad is the life preserver,” she said. “Now I’m swimming without him there to make me feel safe. I need to start swimming on my own, take some lessons, figure out what I can do and what I’m comfortable with, but I need to start in the shallow end. That’s Gus.”

Will studied her face, thinking back over her analogy. “Who are the big waves?”

She blushed.

“Me?” he asked, hoping it was him.

She nodded and the tension let go slightly.

Will felt his mouth stretch into a grin. “I’m the big waves, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

He really liked that. Except… “Wait, you’re scared of the big waves?”

She focused on the water bottle again, pressing her lips together.

He reached out and picked the bottle up, bringing it up next to his face so she had to look at him.

“You’re scared of me, Emily?” He tried to say it gently, but he had to resist the urge to growl the question. He hated that idea. And he didn’t understand it. He’d never done anything to make her feel she couldn’t trust him.

Her blush deepened. She shook her head. “Not scared.”

He breathed.

“Intimidated maybe,” she said. “I’m just not sure I’m quite…ready for you.”

Ready for him. His imagination took that in all kinds of directions. Directions that, yeah, would probably intimidate her.

Okay, intimidation. He didn’t like that any better though. What had he done to make her feel anything less than comfortable around him?

But then he recalled something she’d said. “And who’s the double-fudge-brownie sundae?”

Double-fudge brownies weren’t scary. They were tempting. Maybe bad for you in some ways, but also very good in many ways. His heart started thumping. He was really hoping there wasn’t someone else that she was tempted by but not ready for. But it was him. He knew it was him.

She sighed, not looking intimidated at all. “You know it’s you. And Gus is the double scoop with colored sprinkles.”

Will started to reply, thought better of what he was going to say but then said it anyway. “Are we talking about sex here?”

Her gaze dropped to the counter top. “Kind of.”

Damn, they were talking about sex. And her being tempted but not ready for him. And her wanting Gus instead.

Will’s eyebrows slammed together. “So you’re asking Gus to be your date in New Orleans because you’re trying to start slow on the sex thing?”

There was no way in hell that Gus was having sex with Emily. No. Way.

She shook her head quickly. “Not sex. That’s why Gus is a good choice. I can relax with him, we can dance and flirt and stuff, but it won’t be more than that.” Suddenly, she straightened and frowned at Will. “You think I would pay Gus to have sex with me?”

He held his hands up. “I’m just trying to get on the same page here.”

“Not sex,” she said firmly. “That’s just it. I’m not ready for that.”

And a huge, tempting, horrible realization hit Will directly in the gut. She wasn’t ready for him.That meant she’d been thinking of him sexually. She wasn’t ready but that meant she’d considered it. That meant she’d been tempted by it. She was turning down the brownie sundae but that didn’t mean she didn’t want it.

Will pulled in a slow breath, trying to cool off.

“This will be the first guy I dance with or flirt with or even spend a lot of time with since Chad.”

“But you and I couldn’t dance and flirt and spend time together?” And in that moment, Will wanted all of that.

Her cheeks were still pink when she nodded.

“Because…” he prompted.

“I don’t think it would be just that.”

Heat hit him hard. She was attracted to him, tempted, had given it enough thought to decide that he was too much for her. Just the idea that Emily had contemplated what it would be like to be with him made him hot and bothered.

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GETTING DIRTY by Erin Nicholas

GETTING DIRTY by Erin Nicholas

Sapphire Falls Book Three

Travis Bennett is exactly the kind of guy Lauren Davis has been avoiding for the past nine years. Religiously. Stubbornly. Successfully. She knows too well how easy it is to let lust ruin perfectly laid plans. And a small town farmer with no ambitions beyond the borders of his own cornfield is not going to change her mind. She’s got important stuff to do. Her company is literally working to stop world hunger. Her plans are much bigger than Sapphire Falls. No matter how hot those farmers might be. 

The problem is—Lauren is falling in love. With Sapphire Falls. To kick her sudden desire to buy a welcome mat and start baking pies, she asks Travis to help her get over her crush. She wants him to show her what life in the small town is really like behind all the sweetness and sunshine and remind her that there’s no place for French manicures and Gucci heels on the farm. 

Travis has everything he wants or needs—a quiet, simple life in his hometown, a successful farm and his friends and family all around. A hoity-toity city chick who looks down on everything from the local coffee to his favorite music is the last girl he wants sticking around. So he agrees to her crazy plan. He can definitely show her the less-than-glitzy, rough-around-the-edges side of Sapphire Falls. In fact, things just might get downright dirty.

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~Excerpt~

© copyright Erin Nicholas, 2014

“Whatever.” She was leaving. What the hell she was doing in the midst of chickens and cows, she didn’t know, but this was Sapphire Falls and it was the annual town festival—most of both of those things didn’t make sense to her.

She turned her back on the calf… and ran directly into a hard chest.

And something cold and wet.

“Ah!” She jumped back, shaking her hands free of the icy liquid that cascaded down the front of her soaking into her shirt and freezing her skin.

It was a warm June evening so she was quickly more concerned about the fact that the liquid was purple. On her white shirt. Because of course it was.

She looked up into the grinning face of the man whose grape slush had just soaked her.

Travis Bennett. Because of course it was. She sighed. Mud, cornstalks, manure… she’d had all of that on her at various times in Sapphire Falls and Travis Bennett was always the cause.

“Why am I always getting dirty when you’re around?” she demanded, grasping the front of her blouse and pulling the wet stickiness away from her stomach.

“Oh, darlin’ that ain’t dirty.”

No apology, no reaching for a napkin, no sheepish look. All she got was “darlin’” and the word “ain’t”. In a drawl that was like fingernails on a chalkboard. Oh, and a big, fat, cocky grin.

“I’m soaking wet!”

His grin pulled up more on one side. “Now that I have some theories about.”

Lauren narrowed her eyes and planted a hand on one hip. “Theories about what exactly?” She knew where he was going with this, but she wanted him to say it so she could shoot him down. Like every other time he’d made any kind of sexual innuendo.

“You being soaking wet when I’m around.”

She gestured to her clothes. “Clearly, you need carnival food to get me wet, Farmer Boy.”

“No kiddin’. I woulda pegged you for a fancy schmancy wine and caviar girl.”

Liquor actually. She loved a good martini.

“But hey, a girl who likes meat on a stick and funnel cakes is my kinda lady.”

Meat on a stick. Yeah, right. Though funnel cakes weren’t horrible. They involved powdered sugar after all.

She blew out an exasperated breath. Travis talked like a hick. Why did she want to put her hand down the front of the blue jeans that had been covered in who-knew-what in the course of the years he’d owned them?

Travis was a farmer. A small town farmer. A small town farmer who had never traveled outside of the county in which he’d been born—and his father had been born and his grandfather had been born. She knew the type. Too well. She’d been surrounded by the type, involved with the type, in love with the type, until she escaped to the city. Where she’d found real life. Real culture. Real coffee.

And it didn’t matter what city. She loved them all. Traffic, people, action… life. And not a cornfield or haystack for miles.

She was a city snob, a small-town-phobic. She knew it. She owned it.

And no good-looking, suntanned, slow talking, cheap beer guzzling small town farmer was going to change her opinion.

“Clearly the slushie needs to be applied externally for it to get me wet,” she told the cheap beer guzzling small town farmer she wanted to lick from head to toe. In a cornfield.

She hated him.

“You city chicks are into some weird stuff,” Travis said. “But darlin’, I’ll apply anything you want anywhere you want.”

Stupid tingles all over her body.

She put on an unaffected expression. “And I suppose it would be some sexy set-up like the bed of your truck with mosquitos buzzing around and maybe some straw poking me in the ass while we’re at it?”

He gave her a slow grin. “You, me, the bed of my truck... I’ll put twenty bucks on soaking wet in five minutes.”

The bed of his truck. Of course.

But it wouldn’t take five minutes and he knew it. Somehow.

Damn him.

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GETTING WORKED UP by Erin Nicholas

GETTING WORKED UP by Erin Nicholas

Sapphire Falls, Book 2

Phoebe Sherwood is in love with the perfect man. Well, except for the fact that he’s in love with someone else. But Phoebe isn’t the type to let a little detail like that keep her from getting what she wants. And as she’s plotting how to get him back, she meets the perfect solution—Joe Spencer. The city boy is in town to retrieve his sort-of fiancé—the woman who stole Phoebe’s man— and when he hears Phoebe’s plan to reclaim their respective soul mates, he’s in

Bright and sparkly. That’s Joe’s first impression of Phoebe. He’s always been attracted to sparkly things—like neon casino signs, sequined evening gowns and Porsches. In fact, his affinity for those things, and the trouble they can cause, are exactly why he’s determined to change his habits and settle down.

But if he’s going to win his girl back, he’s going to need to learn a new way of life. Country line dancing, guzzling homemade moonshine and getting rid of his custom-made suits are what it takes to fit into Sapphire Falls… and he’s got some work to do.

But Phoebe is the perfect coach.

And everything will be just fine… as long as they can keep their hands off of each other and remember which hearts they are trying to win over.

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~Excerpt~

© copyright Erin Nicholas, 2014


Phoebe took a seat on the bench across from him and crossed her arms on the table top. “You gonna make it?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’ve been worse off than this. But it usually involves way more liquor, a couple cigars, staying up until the sun comes up and—” He caught Phoebe’s wide eyes and shifted on his seat. Maybe that was too much sharing too early on.

“And a couple of blonds and brunettes on the side?” Phoebe asked.

He cleared his throat. “Past life. That’s over. I’m turning over a new leaf.”

Phoebe gave him a knowing look. “That’s not a denial on the multiple girls.”

“Past life,” he repeated.

“Ah.” She nodded. And certainly didn’t seem shocked or disgusted. “Well, you’re gonna have to change your ways if you’re gonna live here,” Phoebe said. She was studying the back of the booth beside his shoulder with a frown.

“What do you mean? If that Booze is a regular thing around here, you’re all way wilder and tougher than me,” he said lightly.

Phoebe looked up. “Well, there is that.”

“Then I should be fine.”

“Sure, as long as vanilla is your favorite flavor, you’ll be great.”

He leaned in. “Are we talking about vodka, ice cream or sex?”

She leaned in too. “Do you like vanilla in any of those things?”

“Nope. Vodka isn’t my drink and I like some flavor and even a few add-ins with both ice cream and sex.”

“Add-ins?” Phoebe repeated.

“Like crushed up oreos and colored sprinkles.” Joe made note of Phoebe’s bright-blue sleeveless top. He also knew that her capris were yellow, as were her flip flops, though they had blue rhinestones that glittered from the straps.

He really did like colored sprinkles.

“You use oreos and colored sprinkles during sex?”

He grinned. “Sure. Or chocolate syrup. Or edible body lotion. Or other add-ins. You know…toys, handcuffs, naughty costumes. That kind of stuff.”

Phoebe licked her lips and Joe couldn’t look away from the shine on her bottom lip. “What kind of costumes?” She was practically whispering now.

Phoebe Sherwood never whispered. He’d known her less than twenty-four hours and he knew that.

He liked this. He lowered his voice too. “I’ve always been partial to naughty teachers.”

Phoebe blushed.

He liked that too. It was probably almost as rare as the being-quiet thing. But he didn’t know why she’d be blushing. “Do you have a naughty-teacher costume?” he asked, so hoping the answer was yes.

“I am a teacher.”

He thought about that, his grin growing. “And here I was gonna say that I thought my new favorite might be a naughty farm girl.”

She blushed brighter at that and he laughed.

“You shouldn’t be flirting with me,” she finally said.

He sighed, his smile fading. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“You can’t really help it though, huh?”

“It tends to get the better of me.”

“You’re gonna have to tone it down.”

“Hanging out with you isn’t going to help me there.”

They sat looking at each other. Joe honestly didn’t know how he should feel at that moment. Maybe apologetic, but that didn’t seem to be sinking in.

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GETTING OUT OF HAND by Erin Nicholas

GETTING OUT OF HAND by Erin Nicholas

Sapphire Falls Book One

Genius scientist Mason Riley can cure world hunger, impress the media and piss off the Vice President of the United States all before breakfast. But he’s not sure he can get through his high school class reunion.

Then he meets the new girl in town.

Adrianne Scott loves Sapphire Falls. The sleepy little town has been the perfect place to escape her fast-paced, high stress lifestyle. Her only plans now include opening her candy shop and living a quiet, drama-free life.

Until Mason Riley bids four hundred dollars just to dance with her.

Mason sure doesn’t look—or kiss—like a genius scientist geek. In fact, he makes Adrianne’s heart pound like nothing she’s ever experienced. Passion like this with a guy who travels the world and parties at the White House should probably be a red flag for a girl who wants a simple boring life.

Good thing no one falls in love in a weekend.

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~Excerpt~

© copyright Erin Nicholas, 2014

“’Kay all, Adrianne’s next.”

A hand shot up in front before Jack even asked for a bid.

Jack chuckled and started the action at thirty dollars. It quickly climbed to two dances and fifty dollars.

Adrianne. Mason had no idea who she was, but it was obvious she was damned popular. She was no Hailey Conner, and in Sapphire Falls she never would be, but at least the guys around here hadn’t missed the silkiness of the blond waves that fell to her shoulder blades, or the sweetness of her smile, or the perfect curve of her ass—

Mason straightened. What the hell was that? His type was about four years younger than Adrianne, twenty pounds lighter and not from Sapphire Falls.

“What’s her story?” he asked Drew.

“Adrianne Scott,” Drew said with an appreciative sigh. “She’s new.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“Been here a couple of years. She’s friends with Hailey. Everyone wants her.”

He’d noticed that too. And it bugged him.

“She’s not dating anyone?”

Drew chuckled and shook his head. “Nope. Not for lack of trying. She never dates. The first guy to kiss her gets a hundred bucks.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. He didn’t necessarily approve of guys kissing a woman to win money, but then again, he was quite sure that no man would want to kiss Adrianne just for money.

“Everyone wants her.”

The guys in Sapphire Falls might have more taste than he’d given them credit for.

He drained the beer he didn’t want and disliked immensely and decided to place a food order to go. This was all of no interest to him.

“Okay, sixty-five dollars and three dances with Miss Adrianne Scott. Going once—”

Then she laughed at something the woman next to her said.

And Mason was in trouble.

Well, hell.

“Three hundred dollars,” he called out.

Every single pair of eyes in the room turned to look at Mason at the same time.

He’d never been the center of attention without a microphone in front of him and a conference logo behind him before.

Certainly never in Sapphire Falls.

He stepped forward. He’d opened his big mouth, couldn’t really go back now. He should probably be more surprised that he’d bid like that, but he wasn’t. He was a genius after all, and while his brain and mouth almost never disconnected, paying a few measly bucks for a chance to dance all night with Adrianne Scott and hear that laugh again was a genius move.

“Did you say three hundred?” Jack demanded, pointing a wooden gavel at him as if challenging him to take it back.

“Yes, sir,” Mason replied, looking at Adrianne when he added, “For the rest of the dances tonight.”

Adrianne’s cheeks were pink and her eyes wide. She wore no makeup to enhance the features that were completely captivating him. Her hair was loose and she wore a simple white cotton tank under a denim shirt with blue jeans. Simple, unadorned, and yet he had never been more drawn to a woman.

Jack looked around the room. Obviously, it was unprecedented for a man to monopolize a woman for the entire evening.

“But it’s only—” Jack started.

“Four hundred,” Mason answered, still watching Adrianne.

“I don’t—”

“Maybe we should let the lady decide,” Mason interrupted, walking toward Adrianne.

“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head as he advanced. She was breathing a little fast and she darted her tongue out and wet her bottom lip.

He took another step toward her. “Then what are you worth?”

She swallowed and glanced around. “There’s only three dances left,” she said. “I can’t let you pay three hundred dollars for that.”

“I offered four,” he reminded her, moving in closer still.

She smiled and he couldn’t stop staring at her mouth.

“I meant that even three was too much.”

He was directly in front of her now, and only those within about ten feet of them could hear the conversation. “I didn’t tell you what I expected those dances to be like for four hundred dollars.”

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GOING FOR FOUR by Erin Nicholas

GOING FOR FOUR by Erin Nicholas

Counting on Love, Book 4

It's either true love…or the biggest mistake they've ever made.

Hot firefighter Cody Madsen has stayed away from Olivia Dixon for almost two years-technically. Even though he talks to her every day and sees her every weekend. But there's no kissing, touching, or telling her how he really feels. Because they're just friends. Anything more than that would mean crossing the line that Olivia's older brother has firmly drawn between them.

Olivia wants what her three sisters have-true love. She could almost believe she's found it with Cody, if it weren't for the fact that he's her older brother's best friend and her brother won't have it. And he's never steered her wrong before. Her head is telling her to trust her brother, but her heart won't let go of Cody.

Her solution? A dating site where she and Cody can each find their "Perfect Pick" once and for all.

But when the site yields some unexpected results, their real feelings come front and center. And they have to decide if it's worth the risk to cross the line from friendship to love after all.

Warning: Contains a starry-eyed romantic, a wannabe knight in shining armor, and chocolate chip cookies. A lot of chocolate chip cookies.

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Excerpt:

Copyright © 2014 Erin Nicholas
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Cody Madsen had never seen Olivia Dixon naked. Until today.

And there was a very good reason for that.

Two, in fact.

She was his best friend. And her brother would kill him.

But damn, the sight was breathtaking.

Breathtaking enough that his entire system short-circuited and all he could think was Every day for the rest of my life.

“Cody! Oh my god! What are you doing here?”

She’d obviously just stepped from the bathroom. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, the scent of her favorite shower gel and lotion were strong in the air and, most significantly, she was as naked as the day she was born.

Which had to be why his brain and mouth would not connect.

Olivia crossed an arm over her breasts—her glorious, perky, perfect breasts—and put a hand over her even-more-private part—the mouthwatering, holy crap, light blond hair that was trimmed into a perfect V pointing the way home—and said louder, “What are you doing?”

But it wasn’t until another voice hit his ears that Cody was able to pull himself out of the Olivia-is-even-hotter-than-I-thought daze.

“Cody! I’m heading to the fuse box!”

Olivia’s eyebrows arched. “Is that Conner?”

It was. And Cody’s first spoken word on the matter was, “Crap.”

He grabbed her upper arms, backed her into the bathroom and kicked the door shut.

That proved to be the biggest mistake of all. Her skin was silky and warm and he should never have touched her.

“What’s Conner doing here?”

Cody was an idiot. When he’d first seen that she was naked, he should have turned around and gotten the hell out of here. Instead, what had he done? He’d touched her. Then he’d put himself in a closed room with her.

A tiny closed room.

“There’s a good reason we instituted the conservative-clothing-at-all-times rule,” he said gruffly.

She still had her arm and hand covering the most important parts, but that didn’t matter one iota. He was never going to be able to forget what he’d seen.

“That rule is for when we’re together,” she said.

“We’re together now.” Wow, were they. Her scent was imprinted on his brain. Now, standing submerged in a cloud of it between her and the bottles on the shelf behind her, he found himself taking deeper and deeper breaths—and growing harder and harder.

The naked-breasts-and-other-parts thing wasn’t helping.

“I didn’t know we were going to be together now,” she returned. “What are you—and Conner—doing here?”

“Fixing the outlet in the kitchen that’s not working.” He breathed deeply and concentrated on keeping his eyes on hers. “I texted you.”

“My battery died.”

“Why are you naked?”

“I took a shower.”

“You’re not in the shower now. Do I need to buy you a robe?”

“I don’t need a robe when I’m in my house, presumably alone.”

“You always walk around the house naked when you’re alone?”

“Yes.”

He had nothing after that. He pressed his lips together and resolutely continued to focus on things above her shoulders. Like the two empty towel racks. “Where are your other towels?”

“In the dryer.”

He pulled the towel from her head, handing it to her. “God. Cover up.”

She wrapped the towel around her body, her wet hair falling past her shoulders, big blue eyes staring at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You look…weird.”

“This is, apparently, how I look when I’m trying with every fiber of my being not to kiss you.”

She made a soft choking noise and her hand grasped the towel tighter against her breasts.

“I’ve never seen that look before.”

“Yeah, I saw a few things for the first time today too.”

And she grinned.

That was one of the things he loved most about his “friend” Olivia. She had a fantastic sense of humor.

“What I mean is,” she said, “I thought there have been times in the past when you’ve had to try not to kiss me. And I’ve never seen that face before.”

There sure as hell had been times he’d had to resist grabbing her and pushing her up against the nearest wall. Or the nearest desk. Or the nearest copy machine, car door, refrigerator…

He cleared his throat. “Those times I was trying to resist kissing your lips.”

“But wh—”

She broke off as understanding dawned. And her cheeks got pink.

“God,” she finally breathed. “The not-talking-about-sex rule we have is a good one too.”

So were the other three rules they’d established nineteen months, two weeks and three days ago.

First and foremost was no kissing.

Second was conservative clothing only when they were together. He didn’t go shirtless, even when he was cleaning out her rain gutters in ninety-eight-degree weather. She didn’t wear fitted tank tops or short skirts. He didn’t wear fitted tank tops either—she’d added that to the list after the last time they’d gone to a baseball game together. If swimsuits were required, he wore baggy trunks that reached almost to his knees, and she had a two-piece with bottoms that looked like shorts and a top that covered her stomach and chest completely.

Third was no talking about sex—with anyone specifically or the overall topic in general. No innuendos either.

Fourth was no getting drunk together—they’d made that mistake once and would have made all kinds of horrible choices if Olivia’s sisters hadn’t come home early.

Fifth was no avoiding each other. That wasn’t acceptable. They were friends. They enjoyed being together. They had an entire group of friends in common.

It didn’t matter that they were more attracted to each other than they ever had been to anyone else. They weren’t going to let it keep them from being friends, and they weren’t going to let it make things awkward between them.

In fact, their friendship was one of the barriers they’d put up in hopes of fighting their attraction. They’d become even better friends, entirely on purpose, after the one and only time they’d kissed.

Nineteen months, two weeks and three days ago.

The thing was, the friends-only deal worked. It had started off as “let’s go to a movie” or “want to grab a burger” here and there, but once they’d started talking and laughing together, it had grown. When they’d discovered a mutual love for baking and had started baking together—even when he sometimes wished baking together was a euphemism for other things—their friendship had evolved into something real. There was something very innocent and fun and, of course, sweet about baking together. And in the process of mixing up cookies, muffins, brownies and new inventions here and there, they’d talked and shared and bonded.

Now they both protected the friendship staunchly. He’d never survive if he lost having Olivia in his life, and if that meant never kissing her again, so be it.

Or so he typically thought.

When she wasn’t naked in front of him.

“You’re still making that face,” Olivia said, her voice soft and a little breathless.

He was sure that he was. “You’re still standing here in a towel.”

“I can’t fix that until you move out of the way of the door,” she said with a smile.

He nodded. “It would make sense for me to move then.”

She swallowed. “If you want me to get dressed, anyway.”

“Right.”

He didn’t move out of the way.

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BEST OF THREE by Erin Nicholas

BEST OF THREE by Erin Nicholas

Counting on Love, Book 3...

Sometimes it takes a couple of tries before you get love right. 
 
Emma Dixon is known for getting in over her head—and having a great time doing it. She’s aware her shenanigans rub Nate Sullivan the wrong way, but getting a rise out of the cocky surgeon is one of her favorite pastimes. Truth be told, exasperated looks aren’t the only things she wants from the guy.

Nate has no intention of taking another trip down the falling-in-love road. Women are carefully compartmentalized—to his bedroom. Women who don’t mind his take-charge tendencies. Women very different from sassy, sexy, independent Emma.

But his usual strategy of arguing with Emma to keep from kissing her goes out the window when his son falls in love with her friend’s daughter. Emma sees a normal teenage romance. Nate sees his plans for the boy’s future ruined.

As Nate tries to derail the relationship, Emma runs interference, putting herself directly in the path of the chemistry that grows stronger every time they butt heads. And that could very well lead to the best surprise of all.

Warning: Contains a guy who knows exactly who he is and what he wants and a girl who’s going to change his mind about, well, everything. Plus inappropriate use of chocolate cake (of course, that depends on your definition of inappropriate).

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Copyright © 2013 Erin Nicholas
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication


“So, why don’t you ever ask me to take my clothes off?”

Nate Sullivan didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t act surprised, or amused or—most of all—interested. “Because X-rays can see through clothes.” He also didn’t lift his head from whatever he was putting into her medical record on the handheld computer.

Emma Dixon sighed. Nate was the one man in the world who looked at her with only exasperation. When he looked at her at all. She hated that she was attracted to him. “But it seems that you’re passing up a great opportunity.”

“Well, seeing women naked is why I went into medicine in the first place,” he said, dragging the pad of his index finger over the screen. “But then shattered bones won my heart and that’s the only thing I want to look at all day long now.”

And that bugged the crap out of her, Emma could admit. Not that she believed Nate didn’t like looking at naked women, but that he didn’t want to see her without her clothes. She wasn’t sure what to do with that. Men always wanted to see her without her clothes on.

“I know you’re not gay. You have Michael, after all,” she said, referring to Nate’s eighteen-year-old son. “Do you have trouble getting it up?”

Nate didn’t even blink as he continued tapping on the screen. He also didn’t look up.

Okay, that was low. Childish even. He just brought out the worst in her. She became this sad attention-seeking-low-self-esteem-over-compensating hormonal teenage girl that she hated when she was around him. She wanted to get a reaction from him. Always. Any time they were together.

“I even wore my pretty bra, in case you wanted to see me in one of those skimpy gowns,” she said, in spite of knowing she would not be proud of whatever came out of her mouth at that point.

Finally, he looked up and handed her a piece of paper. “Here’s a refill on the pain meds and no sex for six more weeks.” He completely ignored all of her attempts to rile him.
Bastard.

Emma looked at the prescription in her hand, then frowned at her surgeon. “You actually wrote that on the prescription?”

“Makes it official. This way, if you do it anyway and then come back in here complaining about how bad your hip hurts, I can officially say ‘told you so’.”

Emma resisted the urge to growl at him. Barely. “Seriously? It’s already been twelve weeks.”

He raised an eyebrow, in that very irritating you’re-acting-like-a-four-year-old way he had. She swore he only gave that look to her.
“Six more weeks.”

Nate Sullivan was cocky. Full of himself. Had a god complex. The whole nine yards. And he was completely and utterly immune to her charms. That made him more unique than the fact that he could put anyone back together again, no matter the trauma. It was thanks to him that she was now in one piece after the car accident and that she was walking again.
Unfortunately.

Knowing that she owed the guy who could make her crazy in under two minutes, made her…crazy.

“My physical therapist says that it’s ridiculous to still have a sex limitation after this long,” she said, folding the script and putting it in her pocket. She would fricking follow the damned thing because she would rather chew glass than hear “I told you so” from Dr. Sullivan.

“Does he?” Nate didn’t seem concerned. He was sliding her X-rays back into their envelope.
“He says that I won’t know what I can do until I try it.”

“You sure he was talking about sex and not jogging?”

“You said no jogging yet either.”

“Right.”

“He says that part of his job is to help me try the things that might be a challenge at first. You know, the whole physical therapy thing. He says I can try the new things out with him.”
That got Nate to look up. “Jogging, right?”

She leaned back, bracing her hands on the exam table behind her. God, there was something about him in that long lab coat and tie. She never saw him like that. He played football on the same amateur team as her brother, the Omaha Hawks, and he hung out with the guys afterward down at their favorite bar, Trudy’s, so she always saw him in uniform or jeans. And he looked very fine in both. But once he’d become her doctor—not that she’d had any say in that, having been unconscious and all at the time—she’d seen him dressed up and in charge. And damned if it didn’t make her tingle every time.

“Do you really think I need to wait six more weeks?”
“To jog?”

She allowed a long pause before saying, “Sure. Jogging.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes. I think you need to wait six more weeks to…jog.”

She had no desire to jog. She hadn’t been a big fan of it before her accident and, frankly, the idea of landing on her hip and pelvis like that made her shudder. It didn’t hurt much anymore but it seemed she always expected it to.

Nate started to turn away, then stopped. She followed his gaze to what had caught his attention. Her cane.
“What’s that?”

“You walk around here like a know-it-all but you’ve never seen one of those?” she asked, her stomach knotting. She knew what he was going to say. It was the same thing her therapist had been saying for four weeks. She didn’t need the cane anymore.

And when they broke their pelvises, they could toss the cane after eight weeks if they wanted to. This was her recovery.

Instead of grilling or lecturing her, however, Nate pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, dialed and lifted it to his ear, all the while watching her. “This is Dr. Sullivan. I need to talk to Bruce.”
Her physical therapist. Great.

He didn’t even bother to greet Bruce. “Why is Emma Dixon still walking with a cane?”

He paused to listen, then said, “Get her off of it,” and hung up. He pocketed the phone and turned away, adding something to her medical record.
“Seriously? You don’t want to talk to me about it?”

“Bruce told me what I needed to know, and I told him what he needed to know,” Nate said without looking up.
She felt the knot of tension tighten. “What did he say?”
“You know better than anyone what he said, Emma.”

She felt her tummy flip at his use of her name. It was so stupid, but he rarely called her Emma, and never called her Em like everyone else did, so when he used her name, it always startled her. “He told you that he tried to get me off of it, but I won’t do it, right?”
“Right.”

“I don’t want to get rid of it yet. Why isn’t that okay?”

“Because it’s ridiculous. You can’t expect to make progress if you aren’t willing to try.”

“It’s okay for me to not have sex for six more weeks, but I can’t keep the cane?”
“Right.”

“Why?”

“Because in my professional opinion, that’s what needs to happen.”

God, he was frustrating. He was so damned bossy. She’d seen him yell and get riled up on the football field, but most of the rest of the time he seemed—stuck up. Conservative. Uptight. Something. She loved to try to rile him simply because it was so interesting to see him get worked up. She seemed to be the only one who could really get him going. He’d argue with her, when he’d shrug at everyone else who disagreed with him. She always loved sparring with him.

But she hadn’t imagined such a dominant, I’m-the-boss side of him.
And she certainly hadn’t imagined liking it.

“I’m not ready to get by without the cane yet,” she said. She could be equally stubborn. Ask any of her siblings.
“But you are ready for sex?”

Something about the way he said it, or was looking at her, or something, made her need to take a deep breath. “Maybe.”

“Is there someone that you’re dying to get back in bed with?”
No.

But that was neither here nor there. Nor was it any of his business anyway. She didn’t have anyone she wanted to sleep with, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be ordered not to sleep with anyone by her annoying, I-know-better-than-everyone-else-in-the-world doctor.

She didn’t care if he did know better than everyone else in the world about her injury and its repair.

It was so strange, looking at him now, to think that he’d seen parts of her body that no one ever had and, god-willing, no one else ever would. That he’d had his hands inside her, putting her back together, was strangely intimate.
Or stupid.

It was definitely that.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked. Did Nate truly care who she was sleeping with? Surely not.

“I would not be pleased to know that one of the physical therapists I refer to the most is having an inappropriate relationship with one of his patients.”
Oh.

She frowned. “I’m not sleeping with Bruce.”

Nate seemed satisfied with that simple answer. Which also irritated her. If he cared, he didn’t care much.

“No sleeping with anyone for six weeks. At least,” Nate said.

She tipped her head, watching him, hating him for looking so good in a tie, hating herself for liking him in a tie. She didn’t go for guys in ties generally. She liked blue-collar guys, guys who worked with their hands. Her attention dropped to Nate’s hands and she had to swallow hard. He worked with his hands. He’d had his hands all over her. He’d worked for hours to make sure she was okay. Her life had been in his hands.
And she’d been unconscious for the whole thing.

And that disappointed her.

Which she freaking hated.

She’d been in a car accident. She’d been bloody and broken. He’d cut her open, for god’s sake. There wasn’t one damned thing about it that was sexy or hot. She needed to get a grip.

This was all a product of Nate being the one guy she couldn’t seduce. He could resist her. More, he could make her feel stupid and silly. She hated that more than anything else.

She slid off the table and slipped her sandals back on her feet. “I’m tired of that topic and I have my paper for more drugs, so I’m gonna head out.”

She pulled the hem of her top down—the top that Nate definitely did not want her to take off—and ran a hand through her hair. But as she twisted the doorknob, Nate again used her name.
“Emma.”

Schooling her features before she turned, she gave him a bored look. “What?”
“Behave.”

She hadn’t behaved since she was six. “See that’s where this doctor-patient thing stops working,” she told him, pulling the door open. “You can control my medication and you can bully my physical therapist. You can even keep me from all of my favorite workouts. But nobody has the power to make me behave.”
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IT TAKES TWO by Erin Nicholas

IT TAKES TWO by Erin Nicholas

Counting on Love, Book 2

How do you fall out of love with a man who's all in?

Isabelle Dixon never should have said yes to that first date, but she couldn't resist Shane Kelley's larger-than-life personality. Except now Shane seems determined to make their no-strings fling into something more.

If she thought dating Shane was hard work, breaking up is proving to be much harder. Especially since she's planning on making some major life changes that don't include staying out all night, Jell-O shots, and a sex toy shop punch card. She needs a restful cabin getaway-alone-to gather her thoughts. And the strength to finally end things for good.

Shane has always prided himself on being the good-time guy. Exactly Isabelle's type…or so he thought. Yet ever since he suggested her moving in, she's been pulling back. Thing is, Shane does everything with gusto-including falling in love.

He's not about to let her get away that easily. Even if it means chasing her heart down a crazy road to prove that no matter what life throws at them, they make a damned good team.

Warning: Contains a strange road trip with several weird tourist stops, some hot sex in a car wash, and two people who are just crazy enough to be perfect for one another.

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Copyright © 2013 Erin Nicholas
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication


“You know…” Her gaze went to his lips and she felt the very familiar hot flush of desire. The things he could do with those lips should come with a warning label. “I had specifically planned on not kissing you in here tonight.”

“Is that right?” His hands curled into her hips and his attention focused on her mouth as well. “Why is that?”
“Because it never ends with kissing.”

Even the kissing was enough to make her willing and able to keep the part of her life away from him that she was afraid would turn him off. And the other stuff that the kissing led to… Well, she had no problem understanding why she’d kept up the act.

And if the sex was enough to inspire her façade, then everything else he was and did was enough to convince her she could keep it up long term.
Until she was away from him again.

He was like a drug. When they were together it all felt good and right and doable. When they were apart, she’d remember that this was never going to work long term.
“Do you want it to?”

Her gaze flickered back to his. What were they talking about? Oh, yeah, the kissing thing. “We never just kiss,” she said. “The first night we went out we had sex.”

His voice was a little gruff when he said, “I remember.” He pulled her even closer. “I also remember that you initiated the entire thing.”

She couldn’t deny it. The entire night had felt like foreplay. Which was a little crazy and a lot dangerous. They’d been at Trudy’s. Like they had been dozens of times before. They hadn’t even been there together. He’d asked her, for the third time, if she’d go out with him. She’d said no. Then he’d gotten up on the karaoke stage with Ryan and Cody and sung “Just a Gigolo” by David Lee Roth. There was something about him—the confidence, the big grin, the way he not only had a great time wherever he was but made sure everyone around him had a great time, something—that drew her in. She’d fought it to that point but after he left the stage, she’d asked him to dance. From there she was a goner.
“I remember too,” she admitted.

Shane lifted a hand and traced the neckline of her top, his finger sliding along the top swells of her breasts. “When you pushed me up against the side of my car in the parking lot and laid that first sexy kiss on me I was willing to beg for more on hands and knees. But I wasn’t about to suggest sex on the first date with a classy woman like Isabelle Dixon,” he said.

Classy. She’d quickly shown him her opposite side to that persona. “You didn’t have to suggest it, did you?” she asked, memories shifting through her mind like a kaleidoscope.

He chuckled. “No, I certainly didn’t. And trust me, I was very pleasantly surprised by the dirty mind and mouth behind the polished, sophisticated front you put on.”

Yep, she’d already shown him a little of her talent for switching personalities. And he’d been pleasantly surprised because it had gotten him laid. Well. Three times that night.

He lifted his hand to cup the back of her head and pulled her closer until their lips were a mere millimeter apart. She was a good six inches shorter than him, but she usually wore heels that put her at exactly the right height for things like dancing and kissing and for him to put her up against the wall, hike up her skirt and drive deep.

She wore skirts and thongs a lot when she was with Shane. For those very reasons.

“You want me to just kiss you, Iz? I can be happy with that.”

“You sure?” Her hand slid up the back of his neck and into his hair. He wore it longer than most of the cops, but he didn’t get any crap about it. She loved the way she could thread her fingers through it and grip it when he kissed her—wherever he was kissing her.
“Very sure,” he said softly. Then his mouth met hers.

They’d kissed in every way there was to kiss. Soft and sweet, hot and heavy, long and delicious, all over each other’s body. This was a combination of all of those and then some.

His mouth moved against hers, lip to lip, for a long time. He’d press, then retreat, change angles, open slightly, lick along her bottom lip, then back off and softly kiss the corners of her mouth.

Shane lifted his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face, holding her still. Then he kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin, the side of her neck, then returned to her lips.
Isabelle sighed against his mouth.

“I could do this all night,” he muttered against her lips. “So many places to put my mouth.”

“Thought we were kissing only,” she managed breathlessly.

“Well, French kissing is kissing. And trust me, honey, I can French kiss you in lots and lots of places.”

She started to respond, but then he turned up the heat. He moved one hand to the back of her head, the other to her thigh, lifting it, pulling her close and holding her there, then he opened his mouth on hers, stroking his tongue in possessively.
This time she moaned.

The deep, hot kiss went on and on. Isabelle felt her whole body respond. Wet and hot and tingly. All over. Her scalp prickled, her nipples tightened, her stomach felt warm and everything below that was…all of the above.

She gripped the front of his shirt and arched harder against him, wishing they were naked, wishing she had worn her four-inch heels instead of the two-inch tonight.
God, she needed him.

She slipped a hand between them, running her hand over the hard bulge behind his zipper.
He released her so suddenly she stepped back.

“Whoa girl. I’m tryin’ to be good here. Show you I can do some vanilla kissing.”

That was vanilla kissing? Yeah, right. “I changed my mind,” she said, reaching for him.

He held his hands up and shook his head. “No way, babe. You wanted just kissing. I’m just kissing.”

“I want more than just kissing. Come on, Shane.” She stepped close and grabbed him by the shirt again. “You never say no to me.”

“Until now.” He gripped her wrist gently, but she knew she wouldn’t get her hand free until he let her go. “I’m gonna pass this test, Iz. I’m gonna pass all your tests.” He leaned closer until they were nose to nose. “I want you to move in with me. I want to be with you. I’ll have vanilla sex and play checkers. I’ll keep my hands completely to myself and make dinner for you every night. Or—” he leaned in close again, “—I’ll rock your frickin’ world as often, as hard and as loudly as you’ll let me.” He settled back on his heels. “It’s up to you.”

Isabelle stared at him, her heart pounding, heat swirling through her body. “Yes,” she finally said. “Yes. That last one. Right now.”

He touched his finger to her nose. “I’m gonna do this, Iz. Pretty soon you’ll be moving your panties into the top drawer of my dresser and wondering why you ever even thought to resist.”

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SHE'S THE ONE by Erin Nicholas

SHE'S THE ONE by Erin Nicholas

Counting on Love, Book 1

... Sometimes you see love clearly. And sometimes it has to smack you in the face. 

When a stranger walks up and punches him, Ryan Kaye assumes there’s a good reason. But he’s stunned to learn it’s over a one-night stand that never happened —with his friend’s sister, straight-laced Amanda Dixon. When Ryan confronts her about the lie, Amanda apologizes, but Ryan realizes he doesn’t want her to be sorry…he wants the night they supposedly spent together.

Amanda’s not looking to add anyone to her long list of commitments, so she was only trying to let a nice guy down easy by telling him a fling with Ryan broke her heart. So what if the fling only happened in her dreams? But when Ryan Kaye tempts her with the chance to go crazy and fulfill a few fantasies, she can’t resist. Thank goodness one night isn’t enough time to fall in love…

Warning: Contains a hot paramedic who knows how to get a girl to let her hair down, a girl who thinks she prefers her hair up, some naughty laser tag, some naughty role-playing and a lot of falling in love.

 

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Samhain Publishing
© copyright Erin Nicholas, 2013

Ryan signaled Carrie, the waitress. “Two of whatever each of the ladies want,” he said, pointing to Emma, Isabelle and Olivia. He looked at the girls. “Stay here and mind your own business. Or at least mind someone’s business other than mine and Amanda’s.”

Emma grinned. “You and Amanda have business in common?”

He looked down at the woman beside him. He still held on to her elbow and he became aware that she smelled really, really good. Yes, it appeared that he and Amanda had business in common. How interesting. “Just stay here,” he finally said to Emma.

He tugged Amanda through the crowd to the corner near the back door. It wasn’t exactly private, but it would work for a few minutes. That was all he would have, he was sure, before Conner realized one of his friends had one of his sisters off in a dark corner alone.

“Yes, I talked to Tim Winters,” Ryan said when they were as alone as they were going to get. “Right after he clocked me and knocked me on my ass.”

Amanda gasped. “He hit you?”

“Yeah, because I slept with you.”

“I… Oh… Um…”

Ryan fought a smile. “But it’s weird. That really seems like something I’d remember.”

She rolled her eyes. “We all probably blend together after awhile.” She said it quietly, more of a mutter really, but he heard it.

“What’s that mean?” he demanded. He put a finger under her chin and tipped her head so she had to look at him. “Amanda, what does that mean?”

She shrugged and pulled her chin away from his touch. “It means that it’s got to be difficult keeping track of everyone in and out of your bed without making them all wear name tags.”

He grinned. He couldn’t help it. She was sassy too. He liked that. And liked even more that it didn’t show all the time. Emma was pretty much what-you-see-is-what-you-get. He liked knowing that there might be layers to Amanda Dixon to discover.

“Where would they pin the name tags?” he couldn’t resist asking.

For just a moment, Amanda seemed surprised. Then she smiled. “You’ll have to get the adhesive ones, I guess.”

“Might cover up something I need to see.”

“You could try only dating women named Jennifer or something.”

He smiled. “But then Tim Winters wouldn’t believe whatever you told him about you and me.”

Amanda pressed her lips together. Then said, “I’m really sorry he hit you.”

“I’ll live. What I want to know is why he did it.”

“I thought he…told you.”

She actually blushed and Ryan wondered if he could remember the last time he’d seen a woman blush. Not off the top of his head.

“I want to hear it from you.”

She looked at the collar of his shirt instead of his eyes. “I told him I had a one-night stand with someone and had feelings for him.”

“Me.”

“Yes.”

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JUST FOR FUN by Erin Nicholas

JUST FOR FUN by Erin Nicholas

There’s having fun… And then there’s falling in love.

The Bradfords, Book 4

It was a chance meeting, a spontaneous, hot moment, a never-to-be-repeated encounter. So when the gorgeous redhead he knows only as Sugar walks into the bar and heads straight for him, Doug “Dooley” Miller knows he’s in trouble. But he’s sure not going to mind.

She needs a date to some swanky something-or-other. He’s a fish-sticks-and-denim guy, but for a woman who’s not afraid to get naughty in an elevator, he can stand a couple days of smoked salmon and Armani.

Morgan James admits she doesn’t really know Doug, but she needs him to keep her mind—and hands—off her ex. A man who, despite the fact he stole her ideas, she’s afraid could charm her into repeating her mistakes. Only Doug can make her forget the weasel exists. Besides, it’s just this one time.

What started as not even a one-night stand has Dooley feeling things that he’s never felt before. And that’s outside of the bedroom. Don’t even get him started on what’s happening between the sheets. Why does he have a feeling that, as far as flings go, they’re doing something wrong? Then again, if they’re falling in love, they might just be getting that right.

Warning: Contains a woman who knows what she wants, a man who knows what he doesn’t want, and a proposition that shows them both that they’ve never really wanted anything like this before.

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Copyright © 2012 Erin Nicholas
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
The sexy redhead who’d just stepped into the bar had been wearing far fewer clothes the last time he’d seen her.

But there was no doubt that she was the woman responsible for the hottest night of his life. Dooley Miller turned back to the bar and picked up his beer.

Well, shit.

This couldn’t be good.

“Hi, I’m looking for Douglas Miller. Do you know him?”

Just as he would have expected, his friends and co-workers parted like the Red Sea. It wasn’t that Dooley didn’t ever have women looking for him or wanting to find him. But he’d never had a woman who carried herself with such smooth confidence and obvious sophistication looking for him. None of the guys in the bar had, for that matter.

She was a whole different league.

He dated nice women, beautiful women, sexy women.

This woman was all of that times about ten thousand. Even the nice part. Though he doubted he was going to be seeing any of that in the near future.

He took a final fortifying swig, sighed and swiveled on his stool. He’d known, from minute one with her, that she wasn’t actually a stripper.

“Hi, Sugar.”

“You’re already calling her Sugar?” Mac, one of his best friends, asked.

Calling a woman Sugar did imply a relationship, after all.

Though having hot sex in public and spending an hour in jail together probably didn’t constitute a relationship.

“Sugar’s her name.”

“Actually it’s not. It’s Morgan.” She put her hand on one hip and regarded him with a mixture of amusement and irritation. An interesting combination to pull off.

Morgan. Something about knowing her real first name made him take a deep breath. “Sugar fits.” He took a drink of his beer as he watched her.

God he could still remember the taste of her skin against his tongue. And the way she moved. And the way she sounded.

All very, very sweet.

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, considering you don’t know me.”

“I know some stuff.”

Her cheeks got pink and her eyes narrowed. “I suppose you’re going to try to convince me you played baseball for the Arkansas Travelers.”

He grinned. He’d known there was no way she’d recognize the name of his father’s favorite minor league baseball player, but he’d been sure she’d known it wasn’t his name.

“You Googled me?”

“I Googled, curious about the name you gave me. It didn’t sound totally made up.”

They’d agreed to use fake names. He’d pulled his out of his head right away. When she’d paused, probably trying to think creatively through all the Kahlua, he’d suggested Sugar. He’d also mentioned it sounded like a stripper name. She’d grinned and said, “Perfect.”

Even thirty minutes into knowing her, he’d been aware that the woman was far too high class to have ever set foot in a strip club.

“So how’d you find me?”

“You told me you were the CEO of St. Anthony’s Medical Center.”

“Did I?” Crap, that had been dumb.

“Lucky for me the actual CEO’s assistant immediately knew who I was talking about when I described you.”

“You went to his office?”

“He wants to talk to you on Monday.”

Dooley lifted his beer. He was sure he did.

“So—” she slid up onto the stool next to him, “—remember when you told me if I ever needed anything all I had to do was ask?”

He looked over at her, truly taking in the details now. She was wearing a pantsuit. A nice one that even showed a little cleavage, but a pantsuit nonetheless.

He preferred the cherry-red dress she’d worn to the fundraiser. The tight cherry-red dress that left her shoulders bare and clung to her curves.

That really didn’t sound like him. “I said that?”

“No, but it’s what you should have said.” She scowled at him. “Especially after you got me arrested and left me in jail while you paid your bail and walked out.”

Dooley didn’t have to look at his friends to know their expressions ranged from shocked to downright entertained.

In fact, he stoically avoided looking at them. “You had to pay bail?”

She frowned harder. “Fine, they finally let me out without bail. You still left me there.”

He’d paid her bail. That’s why they hadn’t asked her for it. But he didn’t want her to know it.

The whole night with this woman had been out of control from the beginning, and getting arrested had been the sobering moment when he realized he was headed for nothing but trouble with her. He’d been in a cell before. Having a mark on his record didn’t bother him. But it bothered him that he’d let things get so out of control it had affected someone else. Usually the other people with him in the cell were there because they deserved it.

In the jail cell it had become impossible to ignore that this woman was the complete opposite of the sexy-girl-just-looking-for-a-good-time she’d portrayed. He didn’t get involved with classy women.
They naturally needed things he couldn’t give. Like money, for example.

That wasn’t his type. He wasn’t interested. It had been time to go.

Now she was here, had found him, in his regular hang-out. And the scene was all unfolding in front of an audience of his friends. Awesome.

“I need your help. And you owe me.”

“You need my help?” He faced her fully for the first time. He’d been avoiding it because he knew the moment he looked into her eyes, he’d feel like he’d been punched in the stomach.

He was right.

She was stunning. Her auburn hair fell to her mid-back when it was down. She had a killer body with generous breasts and curvy hips, enough for a man to have something to hold onto. But her legs were long and toned and her butt was tight.

She should have been a stripper. It wasn’t fair to humankind to not share every glorious inch.

She had a redhead’s pale, creamy skin, but there hadn’t been a freckle in sight. At least as far as he could tell. The lighting in the elevator had been good, but he hadn’t gotten her completely undressed. Just enough.

Her startlingly bright green eyes could have easily been mistaken for contact lenses, but they were real. They’d looked at him as if he could give her the world. Which had been exactly what he’d wanted her to think that first night. It was supposed to have been their last night as well.

She wasn’t looking at him like she thought he was a big shot hero right now.

He was dressed, as usual, in a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt. His tennis shoes had seen better days, which made them his favorite shoes. They’d just come off a twelve-hour shift and he had some stubble going and knew his eyes were bloodshot from the lack of sleep he’d had last night.

He looked nothing like the man she’d met five weeks ago.

He did look great in a tux.

“Believe me, I’m not thrilled about it either,” she said, referring to needing his help. “But, as unbelievable as this may sound, I need your sophistication and—” she looked him up and down in obvious doubt, “—charm.”

There was a moment of shocked silence and Dooley braced himself.

Then his friends let loose with three equally delighted and loud whoops of laughter.

Sophistication and charm were not adjectives most people would assign him.

But Sugar—well, she’d seen his best side for sure. The side he’d almost forgotten he had.

Dammit, it had been fun.

Suddenly Kevin Campbell, another of his friends, bumped into her. Sam and Mac had shoved him forward.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, with the goofy grin that always had girls making goo-goo eyes at him.

“This is the best we can offer in the sophistication and charm department,” Mac said, slapping Kevin on the shoulder. “There are no promises here either, but he goes to church and eats with utensils.”

Dooley rolled his eyes. He deserved all of this. Had any of his friends been on the receiving end of the gorgeous redhead’s attention he would have been doing the same exact thing.

He had to get her out of here.

But before he could tell her that, she turned and looked Kevin up and down. “The next time I need to pray or have dinner I’ll keep him in mind. What I need right now, though, I need from him.” She pointed at Dooley.

Mac, Sam and Kevin raised their eyebrows in unison.

“You sure?” Sam asked.

“Oh, yeah.” She said it in a husky, seductive voice that had Dooley’s blood pumping harder.

There were only three things she knew he was good at: dressing up, playing Blackjack and giving her orgasms.

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EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT by Erin Nicholas

EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT by Erin Nicholas

A girl, a guy, a set of handcuff... What more could happily ever after possibly need?

Anything and Everything, Book 2


Luke Hamilton's requirements for the perfect woman are straightforward: live, work and play in his beloved hometown-and get along with his mother. Dr. Kat Dayton's got it all. And Luke's noticed. It's obvious to him that his long-time friend belongs with him, especially after the world-rocking kiss she lays on him at his birthday party.

While Kat can't deny she's imagined a kiss like that - and more - for years, she's less convinced they're destined for happily ever after. Still, Luke figures that's nothing a friendly kidnapping and a three-day road trip won't fix.

Kat would love to let Luke in, but if he discovers the truth - that committee meetings bore her to tears and she'd rather have a root-canal than go to another potluck - his white-picket-fence dreams will be crushed.

Being stuck in an RV with Luke should be three days of flirtatious fun, but for Kat it's heavenly hell. The close confines and good old-fashioned lust are making a mockery of her perfect-woman facade, and if he finds out about the mistake that might cost her job - and force her to leave town for good - it'll take more than a sexy pair of handcuffs to keep him close.

Warning: Contains a man who's willing to do anything for the perfect woman, an RV and surprise road-trip to help him prove it, and a woman who's wondering just what the hell she's gotten into.

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Copyright © 2012 Erin Nicholas
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication


Luke didn’t see her or hear her approach, but he smelled her. And he didn’t care why Kat was behind him when she got that close.

He opened his mouth to tell her he knew she was there but suddenly her arms came around his neck and something covered his eyes. Instinctively, his body stiffened before her hot whisper touched the skin on the back of his neck.

“Hold still.”

He smiled in spite of having no idea what she was doing. “Kat, are you actually blindfolding me?” he asked as he felt the cloth over his eyes tighten slightly.

“You knew it was me?”

“Of course. I know your body spray.” He felt her surprise in the way she suddenly froze.

“Oh.” She cleared her throat.

That made him grin. “Now what?” He was up for anything involving Kat, frankly. He’d been on his way to find her. He was also smiling for the first time in almost two months.

Because ten minutes ago, his best friend had given him his birthday present—Marc had told him that Kat had feelings for him.

It was like sunshine had broken through a dark, cold day.

Sappy perhaps, but that’s how he felt.

Two months ago he’d watched her with another man at Marc and Sabrina’s wedding and had wanted to put his fist through the wall. Kat made the first move. Everyone—every male anyway—knew that. If she wanted someone, she let them know. Not only had she not given Luke any indication that she felt more than friendship for him, but she’d brought another guy to the wedding that would have been the perfect place to turn their relationship into more. If she’d wanted that.

He could admit the whole situation had made him into an antisocial ass over the past months. But tonight things were going to change. Marc had said the magic words—Kat wanted him.

And now she was blindfolding him.

Yep, this had the makings of the best birthday ever. And he wasn’t talking about cake and confetti.

“You have to leave the blindfold on, okay?”

Taking it off hadn’t even occurred to him. “No problem.”

“Really?” Again with the surprise.

“A hot girl and a blindfold? I’d be an idiot if I wanted to take it off.”

He heard her chuckle softly. “Thanks. So you’re good with this?”

“Very good.” It could only be better if she were the one in the blindfold. All kinds of images were racing through his mind as it was.

“Come on.” She took his hand and they started forward.

The Camelot, his restaurant and dream come true, was the place he spent most of his time and he knew every inch. He even managed to keep from stubbing his toe on the wingback chair near the arched doorway that led into the short hallway of offices.

After they’d stepped into his office, he heard the door shut and the lock click.

“A hot girl in black leather, a blindfold, a private office with a locked door on my birthday. My expectations are rising every minute.”

“Black leather isn’t all that uncommon for me,” Kat pointed out.

“True. But the rest… Well, it’s understandable that I would be expecting more than something like—oh, I don’t know—a set of DVDs for instance.”

There was a stunned moment of silence and he imagined she was staring at him in shock. No, she was probably frowning.

“How did you know?” she finally asked.

He chuckled. “A good guess. I hope it’s Burn Notice.” It was their favorite show. They discussed the current episode every week.

And he would love the DVDs. Just like he’d loved the first three seasons of House, another favorite, she’d given him last year and the boxed set of Seinfeld the year before that.

He liked to think she gave him their favorite TV shows to prove that she was paying attention to what he liked because she cared. But this was Kat Dayton. If Kat wanted or felt something, everyone knew it. Instead, she had to come up with an annual gift for a friend. Period.

“You think you’re pretty smart, huh?” she finally asked.

“Sorry,” he said with a shrug. “I know how much you hate being predictable.”

She really did. She wore black all the time, preferred tight, fitted clothes, loved boots and had a number of piercings. She also used dramatic eye makeup and body paint and her short dark hair was styled and colored differently almost every day.

“I might still have a few surprises left.”

He felt her move in closer and heard her rustling in her bag.

“I can’t wait.”

“Not nervous at all?” she asked.

“Definitely not what I’m feeling.” He was feeling…intrigued. Excited. Amused. Optimistic.

She had feelings for him and he had her undivided attention. There were only a few ways—a few very specific ways—this could get better.

It was common knowledge that when one sense was removed the others became stronger. He felt like he was completely tuned in to every move she made. There was a soft metallic clink and the air around him grew warmer as she leaned in.

“Were you predicting this?”

He felt her hands slide down his left arm to his hand and he took in a deep lungful of vanilla. Then he felt cold metal around his wrist followed by a click.

No way.

“Handcuffs?” he asked. He lifted his arm and found his left wrist connected to the arm of the chair.

“Handcuffs.” She still leaned close. “So, if you have different expectations of a birthday involving a blindfold, how do you feel about one with handcuffs?”

He grinned. “Kat Dayton wants me at her mercy? I’m liking it a lot.”

“I’m…flattered.” That had sounded more like a question.

He chuckled. “Being the first guy you handcuff? Me too.”

There was a pause and he felt her straighten away from him. “How do you know you’re the first guy I’ve handcuffed?”

“I’ve heard about your strip poker games, your skinny-dipping…somebody would have definitely been talking about being handcuffed.”

“I played strip poker one time with Greg Matthews and skinny-dipped one time with Travis Nelson. Here I thought I was dating gentlemen.”

“You did not. You’ve known these guys since third grade,” Luke said with a grin.

She blew out a breath. “Well, you know that both of them likely did some embellishing. You probably shouldn’t base your expectations on what Greg and Travis said.”

“You’re right. I should definitely find out for myself.” Even without exaggeration he knew that a few minutes with Kat, skinny-dipping or otherwise, would be better than a whole season of Burn Notice.

“Find out?”

“What a great kisser you are.”

He heard her little intake of air. Okay, so maybe he had some surprises for her too.

“You want to…” She cleared her throat. “Did you just say you want to kiss me?”

He chuckled at that. He’d kissed her once in college and he hadn’t been able to completely forget it. Even though he’d tried when it became clear that she didn’t want to do anything more about it. He wanted to kiss her again. Tonight. Now.

“Definitely. And you have to give me what I want—it’s my birthday.”

He held his breath, waiting for her to laugh, or say you’ve got to be kidding me, or something similar.

“They say the memory is the first thing to go as we age,” she said softly.

He heard the hurt in her tone and reached instinctively with his free hand, snagging her fingers as she tried to move away. “I remember the kiss, Kat. Vividly and often. I’m just teasing you.”

There was an excruciatingly long pause. He’d told the truth. He thought about that kiss. A lot. More and more all the time. Like the more she kissed other guys. Like he’d seen her doing at Marc’s wedding…

He loosened the hold he had on the arm of the chair and forced himself to relax. She wasn’t kissing anyone else tonight. He had to focus here. There wasn’t another guy with her tonight. He didn’t need to worry about being an ass to a guy he’d known his whole life, like he had at the wedding. All the guy had done was agree to be Kat’s date to the wedding. He really hadn’t deserved Luke’s glares or refusal to engage in conversation or the beer down the leg of his pants.

Anyway, she wasn’t kissing anyone else tonight.

Finally he heard her pull in a slight breath just before she asked, “Does Marc still have his appendix?”

He frowned. What the hell did that mean? “I’m, um, sure he does.”

“Okay, good.”

She pulled free of his hold but just as he was grabbing blindly, she leaned in and put a hand on each arm of the chair.

That was better.

“You ready?” she asked, her breath on his cheek.

“Is anyone ever really ready for you?” he asked.

“Aw, you say the sweetest things.” Then she touched her lips to his.

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