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Destiny Happened by London Saint James

Blurb:

Desi

Of course, I noticed Mr. Shirtless. With a bod like his, who wouldn’t? But his hot-factor didn’t matter. What did? My asshat ex and the need to make him jealous. So, I strolled up to the panty-melting stranger as though I knew him and laid one on him, hoping said asshat would see I’d moved on just fine without him. Only, he never saw me kissing another man.

Kash

I spotted her—honey-blonde hair gleaming in the sun as she came my way. I’d flirt. Smile. Maybe get her number. I sure the hell didn’t expect her to toss her arms around my neck, mashing her body against mine, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of me. Then, she stopped. Stepped back. Blushed. Whispered “Sorry” and blended into the crowd. I never got her name that day. Or her number. However, fate had other plans and Destiny happened…again.

Available from: Amazon UK | Amazon US | Books2read | Smashwords

*****

Excerpt

Kash

Pops quickly flipped a line of sizzling sausages with his heavy-duty tongs as I carried an oversized cooler past him. “Those better be more brats for the grill since these babies are sellin’ out fast.”

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, old man,” I said, sliding the container next to the boxes I’d placed under the canopy a few minutes earlier.

He bobbed his head. “Know it.”

There was affection and perhaps a little pride in my papaw’s tone.

“I’ve got another couple of coolers to bring over, so we should have enough brats to get us through the rest of the day.”

While having a food booth at Oktoberfest was an annual money-raising activity, allowing us to give a nice sum to a local charity—as well as excellent advertisement for Caldwell Trucking and Repair—hauling stuff to and from our venue and fighting the traffic and crowds wasn’t my favorite thing.

Glancing around I asked, “Where’s Joe?”

“He called a little while ago. He should be here any minute now.”

“You actually answered your cell phone? I’m impressed.”

Pops flipped another bratwurst. “Don’t give me shit, boy.”

“Just happy to see you giving in.” I chuckled. “It’s about time you moved out of the stone age.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, “I miss the good old days when a person wasn’t reachable twenty-four-seven. When my ass isn’t planted in my office chair, then I’m out. No one gets the concept of being away and unavailable anymore. I don’t need to be interrupted all the time.”

I couldn’t help but grin at his usual rage against the machine. Everyone knew if Pops was out of the trucking office, odds were good, speaking to him probably wasn’t happening.

“How about Cray?” I asked.

“Haven’t heard from him.”

“That asshole better not pull another no show. It’s his turn to do clean up.” With a shoulder lift, I swiped sweat from my face onto my damp, gray t-shirt.

I’d much rather work fifteen-hour days at the shop—which, let’s be honest, I did often so I could catch up on the paperwork end—than to deal with the daily vendor set up and nightly clean up.

“You know your brother, Kash.”

Shit… I’d be doing my younger brother’s job later because Crayten would do what he always did—leave me high and dry.

“Yeah, Pops, I do.”

We were only two days into this four-day event, and I wasn’t happy. Adding to my piss poor mood was the damn heat. It might have been October, but it was still hot as hell and even hotter standing behind our commercial-sized stainless steel grill where I would eventually be to give Pops a break. But come on. Four days of organized chaos and three-hundred-thousand festival goers could drive a man to drink. Although, on a positive note, I didn’t have far to go if I wanted to tie one on. The entrance to the beer garden was only a few feet away.

“Hey.” Joe strolled up, man bun in place—hipstered out in his skinny pants, a blue shirt with red suspenders, and a big goofy smile on his bearded face. “Did you catch those bar wenches?”

We did our standard fist bump greeting. “I’ve been too busy hauling shit to notice anyone.”

“Joe”—Pops motioned with his tongs—“I’ll never understand why you want to do that crap to your poor ears.”

That was Pops for you. His grousing way of greeting one of our best mechanics while at the same time giving the guy crap about the shiny black plugs protruding through his lobes.

Joe tugged on his right ear good-naturedly. “All the ladies love my accoutrements.”

“Accoutrements is it?” My papaw snorted. “Fancy.”

“Pops, stop busting Joe’s balls,” I said.

“All right, all right,” he rasped. “Glad you’re here, J.”

“Thanks, Mr. Caldwell. I’m happy to help,” Joe said—humor in his tone. He glanced back at me. “Still have stuff in your truck?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll give you a hand.”

I reached over my shoulder and yanked my shirt up, tugging it up and off my head. “Appreciated. Just give me a sec.”

Balling the cotton material, I swiped the driest section over my sweaty chest and stomach, glad I’d thought to toss a couple of clean t-shirts with our shop logo onto the passenger seat of my pickup that morning. I’d need to put on a fresh one.

A section of the milling crowd parted, and a few whistles snagged my attention. No. The whistles weren’t directed at me. They were for some dark-haired woman who was tossing her hands in the air and shaking her ass.

I’ll admit, she was attractive in a Jennifer Garner kind of way. But the woman next to her, shaking her head and smiling—long, honey-blonde hair gleaming in the sun—was a fucking knockout. A knockout who looked my way. A knockout who stared at me, then glanced past me—eyes narrowing—her porcelain-doll face going serious as she started in my direction.

Maybe it was the way she held herself. The biting of her luscious bottom lip. The gentle sway of those shapely hips. Or maybe it was the hip-hugging jeans and white, scoop-neck, long-sleeved tee showing off all her curves that did it. But she had this combination good-girl-next-door with a hint of wild-in-the-sack vixen vibe going on.

Filthy images of what I could do to muss her up raced through my head at supersonic speed.

I was ready to give her my best smile. Flirt a little. Maybe get her phone number. And I was just about to do all of that when without hesitation she stepped up to me, popped up on her tiptoes, tossed her arms around my neck, pressed those soft, full tits into my hard chest and smashed her plush, pink lips against mine.

All right. I’d had my fair share of women hit on me, and do that shit hard, but a woman literally throwing herself against me and taking charge without so much as a hello? Well, that was a first. When it came to the fairer sex, I took the lead. Regardless, though, I wasn’t stopping her. In fact, screw introductions. I didn’t need any.

Groaning, my right hand grabbed the back of her neck—fingers tangling into the strands of her silky hair. My other hand, still holding my wet shirt, went to her ass and pulled her even tighter into me.

She made a little mew of sound which turned into a throaty moan—her smaller frame melting into me as I plunged my tongue into her mouth, tasting an explosion of cool mint and womanly desire.

Yeah. I was full-on frenching someone I didn’t know—deep penetration style—while in front of Pops, Joe, and the entire swell of weekenders at Oktoberfest.

Obviously, I didn’t care.

Both my brain and body agreed. It was time to get down and dirty. This became apparent when all the blood I possessed rushed to my dick, and I ground myself into her pelvis. It didn’t matter where we were. It didn’t matter the woman in my arms was a stranger. Nothing in the world did but the feel, smell, and taste of her.

I needed more. More touching, tasting…just more.

Awareness seeped into my ‘need woman now’ mindset when she let go of me and pressed a palm to my bare shoulder, attempting to push me away.

Definitely get her number became the thought overtaking me as she stopped our rigorous game of tonsil hockey and stepped back, breaking my hold.

Staring down into the most exquisite pair of navy-blue eyes, I was struck mute. That was new as well. I’d never before been tongue-tied over a woman. Not only was I silent, but it also seemed I lost my ability to move.

Part of me understood I probably looked like a complete dumbfuck, standing there in front of our booth with a raging hard-on, shirtless, and goddamned speechless, but I just couldn’t pull my gaze from her.

A rosy hue started at her chest, crawled up her neck, and swept across her cheeks. She placed her fingertips on her kiss-swollen lips, whispered “Sorry,” spun around, and took off like the devil and all his minions were on her trail.

Her leaving so abruptly snapped me out of my stupor, and all my faculties crashed back in place with a jolt to my system. Rebooting me.

“Hey! Wait!” I called out, reaching. “Don’t go. What’s your name?”

All I caught was thin air and a peek of her shoulder as she blended into the crowd.

*****

About the Author

London Saint James has lived in many places but never felt ‘at home’ until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.

As an award-winning, international bestselling author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.

A complete list of London’s books can be found on her website http://www.londonsaintjames.com. You can also e-mail London with any questions or comments at London@londonsaintjames.com. She loves to hear from her readers.

Would you like to know more? Join her mailing list for her monthly newsletter http://eepurl.com/6P2on. Or, join her book group on Facebook, Slip Between the Pages with London https://www.facebook.com/groups/SlipBetweenthePageswithLondon/

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***

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Spotlight on Destiny Happened by London Saint James (@LSJRomance @romancerebels69) #downanddirty #getdirty

Down and Dirty

Coming May 22!!

Published by: Romance Rebels Publishing

Cover Artist:  Sinfully Sweet Designs

*****

BLURB:

Get in, get down…and get filthy with these sexy, hardworking, blue-collar heroes who don’t mind when things get a little dirty at work or at play.

This collection of 22 brand new stories from USA Today and International Best-Selling authors is full of scorching hot romance tales that will be sure to leave you breathless for more. These men work hard and play even harder.

From cops to mechanics, miners to brewmasters, they aren’t afraid to go all in. At the end of the day, when they find the woman who completes them, they learn love and life can be as messy as their day jobs…and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Featuring stories from: Lori King, Maia Dylan, Sarah Marsh, Elena Kincaid, Cecile Tellier, London Saint James, Bella Settarra, Rose Nickol, RL Merrill, Ashley Malkin, Lucy Felthouse, Scarlett J Rose, Sydney Lea, CR Moss, Samantha A. Cole, Danielle James, Ava Campbell, Eva Moore, Kimberlie L. Faye, Sabrina Sol, Nikki Prince, and Mia Hopkins

PREORDER LINKS:

AMAZON US  I  AMAZON UK  I  AMAZON CA  I  AMAZON AU

IBOOKS  I  BARNES&NOBLE  I  KOBO

*****

Destiny Happened by London Saint James

BLURB:

Desi

Of course, I noticed Mr. Shirtless. With a bod like his, who wouldn’t? But his hot-factor didn’t matter. What did? My asshat ex and the need to make him jealous. So, I strolled up to the panty-melting stranger as though I knew him and laid one on him, hoping said asshat would see I’d moved on just fine without him. Only, he never saw me kissing another man.

Kash

I spotted her—honey-blonde hair gleaming in the sun as she came my way. I’d flirt. Smile. Maybe get her number. I sure the hell didn’t expect her to toss her arms around my neck, mashing her body against mine, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of me. Then, she stopped. Stepped back. Blushed. Whispered “Sorry” and blended into the crowd.

I never got her name that day. Or her number. However, fate had other plans and Destiny happened…again.

*****

EXCERPT:

Desi

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…”

My breathless mutterings were meant for no one but me. Because seriously, I was stupid. Look up the word in the dictionary and you’d see a big ol’ picture of my dumb face. I’d just kissed a stranger and ran. A ‘kiss and run’ if you will. Not only was I stupid, but I might also be insane. Like, total zonkers!

Why did I do what I did?

Okay. The why was simple. Or, at least, I thought it was at the time. I wanted to make my ex jealous. Show the douche-canoe I’d moved on just fine without his no good ass. Let him know he’d been easy to forget. Prove I was so over him, it wasn’t even funny.

You’re probably thinking the ex? Let me back up a bit.

When a group of Oktoberfester’s shifted, most of them watching the hip-wiggle/ass-jiggle Linds was doing, someone started catcalling. This had me looking in the direction of the whistles, and that’s when I became aware of Mr. Shirtless. With the chiseled cheekbones of a Greek God, he stood a few feet away in low-slung denim—glistening in the sun.

Hello! With a rock-hard bod like his, who wouldn’t notice?

I’m pretty sure he hadn’t been the whistler, but I was certain he had been watching Lindy. Then his gaze slid to me as I took him in. Honestly, the man’s abs alone should be bronzed. It was like I’d stepped into one of those hot guy calendar shoots, his more than a six-pack rippling.

And did I mention glistening? I think I did, but it’s worth mentioning again.

That man’s midsection with the V-cut was enough to bring a grown woman to her knees in adoration. But just as I was about to stop myself from gawping at all those large, well-defined muscles flexing as the tall, dark-haired hottie wiped sweat from his bare chest, someone else redirected my attention.

Jenner.

Of all the places the asshat could be, there he was, mixed in with a group to Mr. Shirtless’s left! He shouldn’t have mattered. I shouldn’t have allowed the sight of him to burrow under my skin, but there was no helping it. Jenner had his arm curled around the shoulders of that woman as they strolled along a line of vendors—she smiling up at him all happy while he winked down at her.

Heat, and not from the sun, prickled along the back of my neck.

Seeing them out together—him more attentive to her than he’d ever been with me—pissed me the hell off. Thus, I made a rash decision and did something completely nuts. I strolled up to Mr. Shirtless like I knew him and laid one on him.

Or maybe he laid one on me.

Either way, we kissed. Hard. With tongue. And he smelled good. Clean sweat and something a bit caramel-spiced. And the way my stranger pulled me into him—alpha male possessive—God help me. Though, the real ‘holy wow’ moment came when I realized the man had developed an impressive erection while thrusting his tongue against mine, and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

Truth here. Stranger or not, when he pressed himself against me—hard and commanding—lightning struck my core.

Let’s just say, lip-locking with Mr. Shirtless had been, well… kind of mind-blowing. And after, when he looked into my eyes—his the color of chocolate swirled with honey gold—I think I lost my ability to breathe.

Then, Bam! Reality hit me.

Not only had I made a complete and total fool of myself, but my spur-of-the-moment decision hadn’t worked. Jenner and the skank had strolled on by—engrossed in each other. He never noticed me nor my brilliant public display of kissing the lips off another man.

Slowing to more of a power walk than a run, I glanced around. “Shit!” I’d been so hell-bent to just go, I’d gone in the complete opposite direction of where I’d left Lindy.

Body jittery with adrenaline, I turned around and started on my way back to her.

“Hey, babe. There you are.” Lindy strolled up, handed me a strip of chicken teriyaki on a stick, and frowned. “Where did you go? I lost you for a little while.”

“Jenner,” I said, disgusted. “He’s here.”

“Is that why you’re all flushed? Did the buttmunch say something to you?”

“No. I kind of strolled up to some random hot guy and kissed him to make the asshole jealous, but he didn’t even notice.”

Lindy’s eyes went wide. “Say what?”

With a nod, I spilled. Jenner with the woman. How they looked together. Mr. Shirtless. The PDA. The entire crazy tale.

When I was done, my bestie grabbed my shirt sleeve. “Show me the guy.”

“No way.” I shook my head. “I made a complete fool of myself and added to it by running away, Linds. I can’t take you to see him. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.”

“Come on. We’ll just stroll but keep our distance, and you can point him out.”

I groaned. “What if he sees me?”

“We’ll be sneaky.” She tugged at me. “Let’s go.”

“All right. This way.”

Being careful not to be noticed, I led Linds over toward Pops Brats, only I didn’t see Mr. Shirtless.

“He’s not around,” I said.

“Damn it.” Lindy sounded disappointed.

And me? Well, I couldn’t be sure if I was relieved my sexy stranger was no longer there or despondent I’d never see him again.

*****

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.

As an award-winning, international bestselling author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.

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