Series: Original Heartbreakers Series #6
on December 5th, 2017
CAN’T GET ENOUGH Synopsis:
New York Times best selling author Gena Showalter returns with a sizzling Original Heartbreakers tale, featuring a rough, tough bad boy brought to his knees by... a kindergarten teacher?
The king of one-night stands...
To inherit--and destroy--his father’s business at long last, Brock Hudson needs a temporary wife. The ruthless ex-military heartthrob has always avoided romantic entanglements. Women are sweet, but vengeance will be sweeter. Or so he thinks. Only one woman will do, but the vulnerable beauty is more than he bargained for—sexier, wittier, and utterly irresistible.
The queen of the deep freeze…
After an abusive first marriage, Lyndie Scott has sworn off relationships. But still she longs for a child of her own. Turns out, the brawler who used to frighten her with only a glance is the answer to her problems. She agrees to his proposal, with a caveat: spend every night in bed with her, then walk away for good when it’s time to divorce. Even if she’s pregnant.
A marriage of breathtaking inconvenience...
As the days pass too quickly and the nights heat up, Brock battles a sense of possession and obsession. Will the former commitment-phobe convince his wife they’re better off together, or will she pack her bags and go?
From New York Times Bestselling author Gena Showalter, comes the next standalone romance in the Original Heartbreakers Series—CAN’T GET ENOUGH!
Grab your copy today!
“But… marriage? ”Lyndie asked. “I promised myself I’d never do the whole legal-ties thing again.” Straight white teeth nibbled on her bottom lip. “How long would our marriage last?”
“I don’t know exactly.” Anticipation blended with excitement, driving Brock mad in the best possible way. So close to victory! “I’ll need to find the employees of the Hud and Son Group new jobs before I dismantle the company. There will be no collateral damage on my watch.” The employees were innocent, and he wouldn’t leave them in the lurch. “If I had to guess, I’d say a month. Maybe two, but not likely.”
Her beautiful lips shaped the words, One month.
His father’s will had two stipulations: Brock had to be married in order to run the business and, if he planned to continue running it, he had to remain married.
Daddy Dearest had used the perfect bait. Miranda’s downfall. He’d known Brock would seethe as he imagined his mother rich, happy, and carefree.
What Brock hadn’t yet comprehended? Why his father cared about his relationship status at all. What made his father think a commitment would “bring him out of the darkness and into the light?”
Thankfully—and shockingly—there’d been no requirements for Brock’s wife. No “proper” pedigree. No reputation above reproach. No set family worth. The very requirements for the girls he’d dated in high school.
Little wonder he’d always gravitated toward wild, tattooed biker babes.
Lyndie was an anomaly, everything he’d never wanted but now had to have.
She gulped. “Would we live together?”
“Yes. For the sake of appearances, but also because your safety and peace of mind matter to me.” He would be on his best behavior. Would sidestep any conversations about the terrible things he’d done in the past. She would never know how much blood stained his hands. “I will continue to protect you from Rick Lambert. From anyone who threatens you.”
Her shoulders rolled in. “I’m a magnet for crazies, aren’t I?”
“Scottie, you’re a magnet, period.”
She drew in a deep breath, slowly released it. “I’m shocked to admit this, but I like the idea of having you here… which makes me not want to have you here. I can’t learn to rely on you. I must rely on myself.”
Craved her independence? “What if I promise not to ever cook your meals or clean the house or do anything gentlemanly?”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “That would help, yes.”
“We’d have to sleep in separate bedrooms though. I’m not going to get used to your warmth.” Twin pink circles stained her cheeks. A flush of embarrassment… or pleasure? “But, uh, just to be clear,” she said, and gulped, “you will want to have sex with me, yes?”
His excitement deflated. Did she not want to have sex with him? “Yes. I will. I do. I hope you’ll want to have sex with me.” Many times. Every night. “If you allow me into your bed, I will make your pleasure a top priority. But I will expect nothing, and I will never pressure you for something you aren’t willing to give. The money will be yours whether we sleep together or not.”
Her breath hitched. Her pupils grew, black spilling over amber. Her nails dug into her knees, as if… no way. As if she had to stop herself from reaching for him.
He went still. She wanted him. Lyndie Scott wanted him.
Do not pound your chest like a gorilla.
“I don’t want your money, Brock.”
Heart thudding against his ribs, he opened his mouth to tell her that he’d give her anything. If she wanted him to beg, he would beg. He had no pride. Not with her.
Shoulders squared, she added, “I want your sperm.”
Uh, what the what now? His brain short-circuited.
Groaning, she hunched over to anchor her elbows on her knees and cover her face with her upraised hands.
“I think I misheard you,” he rasped, but deep down realization had begun to click. Lyndie Scott had caught the baby fever. She might agree to marry him, but she expected a child in return.