That whole 'no nookie' rule seemed like a good idea until Chrissie got under the covers with Sam.When Chrissie declared a moratorium on hooking up for this group road trip, she didn’t think a miscommunication with a hotel desk clerk would put her in the same bed with Sam.A total dork wrapped in a nice package, Sam has been the object of her vacation lust since day one. Once she’s huddled together under the covers with him the rules go out the window.Can Sam and Chrissie turn their carefree holiday fling into ...
That whole 'no nookie' rule seemed like a good idea until Chrissie got under the covers with Sam.When Chrissie declared a moratorium on hooking up for this group road trip, she didn’t think a miscommunication with a hotel desk clerk would put her in the same bed with Sam.A total dork wrapped in a nice package, Sam has been the object of her vacation lust since day one. Once she’s huddled together under the covers with him the rules go out the window.Can Sam and Chrissie turn their carefree holiday fling into something more?Reader Advisory: This book contains some toy play.
Annemarie Hartnett lives in Eastern Canada and is a full-time office monkey/part-time smut peddler. She writes erotic romance as Annemarie and erotica as A.M. Hartnett. Her first erotic short was published in 2006 and yes, this totally made up for spending a fortune on the degree in English literature she'll never use. For more information on Annemarie or to contact her, visit annemariehartnett.com
Chrissie Lowe felt like she’d been on the hiking trail for hours. Her feet hurt. Her calves hurt. Her back hurt. Her libido was amped up to such a degree that she felt like sinking her teeth into something. Sinking her teeth into Sam Ferguson’s ass, to be precise. He had been behind her, but when they’d reached the embankment about a quarter of a mile back, he’d jumped ahead of her so he could help her up. Now she was stuck staring at his backside. And what a backside it was. Nice and round and clenching with every step he took. Those cargo shorts were going to be the death of her. It wasn’t just his ass. His upper body was obscured by his backpack but the entire lower body got a standing ovation. He had thick thighs and muscled calves that were dusted with blond hair. Even the scratches and scuffs on his bare legs were sexy. She could hear his breath coming in hard spurts as he hoofed it up the incline and occasionally grunted. Delicious sex sounds. Every such sound went right between her legs. “I can see why they took the long way,” he said and glanced over his shoulder. “They probably beat us to the lake.” Chrissie bobbed her head and took a moment to catch her breath. “Is this where you stop being Mr. Outdoors and admit that this is killing you?” “I admit nothing except that I’m not in the shape I was in five or so years ago.” There was sweat on the back of his neck that formed a ring around the collar of his grey T-shirt. The shirt was coming off soon. It always did after he started to sweat through it. When it did her palms would itch from wanting to run all over that hard chest. His shorts would slip just a little over his narrow hips and she’d get a flash of the black waistband of his jockeys. The hot flashes she’d been having would turn into a full-body burn, and then the real suffering would start. This vacation had seemed like a good idea at the time. All of it had been orchestrated by Chrissie’s friend from university, Tony Reade, who was currently on the easy footpath with their other friend, Laurie. It had been a week on the road to take in the entire East Coast of Canada, sleeping in vacation houses and motels. A party of ten friends and mutual acquaintances had converged at the airport in St. John’s, Newfoundland, and after a brief introduction piled into five rentals to navigate the scenic coast. They’d seen every fishing village, every fort, and every sight there was to be seen. Starting on day seven, their party began to dwindle in number. Those who had a second week of vacation would leave Newfoundland and take on the rest of the Atlantic Canadian provinces. After a particularly lively farewell party, the last two married couples had been dumped off at the airport in St. John’s looking like reanimated corpses. After an exhausting ferry ride from Newfoundland to Nova Scotia and a few stops around Cape Breton Island, there were now just four remaining: Chrissie, Laurie, Tony, and Sam. Sam. Thank God for Sam. He was a grade school buddy of Tony’s and hoo-boy, was he something else. Six feet of muscle and golden scruff wrapped in camo cargoes and v-neck tees. He made these long treks worth it. “Damn it!” Chrissie jolted and smacked the back of her neck. Sam turned, panic flashing on his tanned face before turning to sympathy. “Horse fly?” “Yes! Jesus Christ!” She pressed the tips of her fingers to the sore spot just beneath the hairline. “Why do they keep eating me?” “I’d eat you,” he said as he stepped towards her. Chrissie’s gaze snapped to his and his mouth popped open. “If I was a fly, I mean. Wow.” He laughed. “What I meant was that you have dark hair and you’re wearing dark clothes.” Chrissie smiled but she sure as hell wasn’t going to laugh, not when her entire lower half had lit up like a landing strip. She tried not to stiffen as he turned her around and flipped up her pony tail to examine the bite, and then she tried not to melt as he gently circled the swelling flesh with the tip of one finger. She could feel his breath against the back of her neck and gritted her teeth as the hot stream ran down her spine.