Itâs all fun and gamesâ¦until someoneâs heart is broken.
Theyâre not kids anymore, but Milo Caro is certain that Colton Mathews will only see her as his best friendâs little sister for the rest of their lives. After all, he made that clear the night before she left for college. But four years later, her brother is getting married and Coltâs the best manâand guess who is the best manâs last-minute date?
Milo vows to use the wedding to either claim the smoldering firefighterâs heart or douse this torch for good. When Maxâher best friend from college, who may be carrying a torch of his ownâcrashes the party, they devise a plan to make Colt see what heâs missing. But after Colt catches on, he decides to cook up his own revenge.
Now itâs personal. Colt and Milo are at war, and between Maxâs questionable acting methods, an unfortunate trip to jail, and a maniacal fiancÃ©e, what could possibly go right?
âWhat the hell is wrong with you?â Max gave me a tender shove. âWe were fine until you started stepping on my foot and elbowing me!â
âYou were hitting on my mom!â
âSheâs a beautiful lady!â he argued.
âOh, my gosh.â I fell into one of the chairs and moaned. âThis is a catastrophe.â
âNot true.â Max shook his head. âYou just have to be more believable. I mean, would it kill you to find me screw-worthy?â
âScrew-worthy? What does that even mean?â
âThatâs it.â Max grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall. âWhereâs the bathroom?â
âUh . . .â I pointed.
With a jerk he had me in the bathroom under the stairs and closed the door. Words and sounds were coming out of his mouth but I couldnât make anything out. Max pushed me against the door and pointed his finger in my face. âIâm going to kiss you, damn it, and youâre going to like it. And Iâm going to take off my shirt and youâre going to manhandle me, and youâre going to stop being so damn nervous or so help me God Iâm going to bend you over that sofa in the living room and spank your sexy ass.â
Shocked, I was paralyzed in place. âWhere did that come from?â
âInside.â Max looked at me and smirked. âI have lots of feelings and Iâm sick and tired of you looking at me like I donât have a penis. I may be used to your innocence but for my own pride at least try to be attracted to me. Now close your damn eyes.â
âStop cursing at me.â
âStop being difficult! Iâm trying to help you. And stop squirming. Shit, take a Xanax or something.â
âMax.â I closed my eyes and huffed. âThis isnât going toââ
My hand was on something hard.
I blinked my eyes open.
Since when did he have a six-pack?
I tilted my head, you know, to get a better look. His skin was really smooth but bumpy, each muscle defined so much that there was enough of a ridge for my hands to play with.
âOh, look, heâs a man after all,â Max said, sounding bored. âIâm not your sexless friend. Iâm not your damn brother. Iâm not your gay friend. And I sure as hell am not thinking about anything right now except that your hands feel really good against my skin. So Iâm going to kiss you, and youâre going to respond like the idea of my mouth on yours doesnât make you want to cryâand youâll like it.â
âIâll like it,â I repeated.
âThereâs my girl.â His eyes flashed, and then he was kissing me again, only this time his body was on fire as it pressed against me. I felt every ridge of his abs; the length of his body was beyond devastating.
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at www.rachelvandykenauthor.com