He had a huge problem . . . He couldn't keep it in his pants.
Lust without conviction can lead to disaster.
As Cory slaked his lust with yet another woman, he thought this one might be married, but he didn't want to dwell too hard on that. Since he'd opened his vet practice in Whiskey Cove, women had thrown themselves at him and he'd given them what they wanted.
He asked no questions, just pleased them and himself. What he needed was a good woman to straighten him out--preferably before his recklessness caught up with him and he was hurt or worse.
And then she arrived, fresh-faced in cutoffs and a tank top, cradling her sick dog. He hadn't cared what women thought about him, until now.
Brook saw Dr. Corrigan St. Martin emerge from the exam room straightening his necktie. And then she saw her landlord's wife smoothing her clothes down as she followed behind him. Brook wondered if he'd known the woman was married.
She'd heard the rumors about the vet, that he was shameless about his licentious behavior. But he was a devoted vet. And completely irresistible. Maybe there was more to the man than his reputation.
--- She knew he was a jerk, but she was falling in love with him.
And if that wasn't bad enough, she kept having sex with him because she was powerless to stop her body's attraction to his arrogant confident swagger and his godlike features. The man was sex on a stick.
--- Will Brook help Cory see the error of his ways before it's too late?
--- Will Cory commit to Brook and give her the companionship she deserves but has never received?
|Product dimensions:||6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.17(d)|
About the Author
I have spent the past several years working as a university instructor. My students are young adult females so I'm constantly running plot lines and book covers by them. They make a great beta team! I love my job at the university but there is something I love even more. . . romance novels. I'll read any genre as long as there are steamy sex scenes and the standard issue HEA ending. Initially I was drawn in by the escape and sweeping emotion of it all, so much so, I began to create my own fictional world.
Since I worked during the day my nights were consumed with writing. I was powerless to stop the stories that wanted to be freed from my mind. I actually started to get mixed up. I would think something I wrote at night was something I had said during the working day and vice versa. My friends were worried for my sanity but I assured them I had not gone mad, I was just writing. Once I started I wrote upwards of 3,000 words per day.
It was in the early millennium when I became brave enough to share my stories with others. I began to post my stories on fiction websites and then something marvelous happened-I was followed by hundreds of eager readers. I loved my followers and their kind words helped motivate me.
These days I am writing books and I've learned some things about myself during the process. I like to write series novels because I have trouble letting go. I like a little plot with my romance, erotica, contemporary. Call it what you will, but I have to have a good story in which to sink my teeth. If I start writing a story I have to finish it, even if it's terrible.
My dog is my muse and when he tilts his forehead at me and blinks his large black eyes questioningly at me, I think he is worried I've been sucked into the wormhole of the very fiction that I write. I appreciate his concern but I have yet to fall down the rabbit hole. Here's to everyone else in my boat, may our voyage become a permanent destination.