With: Jennifer Bonds
I love to write (and read) about heroines who are real. Or,
at least as real as they can be considering they’re the workings of my
overactive imagination. I’m talking best friend material here. And what could
be more legit than meddling parents, a healthy obsession with Tiramisu, and an Italian
temper that can go from slow burn to five alarm blaze in a New York minute?

One of my favorite things about Becca? She always eats dessert.
Always. Talk about a girl after my
own heart. Unfortunately, her love of all things pastry, pie, and ice cream is
also her downfall. Because while Becca has a weakness for dessert, Jackson Hart
has always had a weakness for her. And after ten long years of fantasizing
about the girl he left behind, this fireman isn’t above pressing the advantage if
it means getting the sexy spitfire of his dreams back in his bed.
Excerpt
“What do you think you’re
doing?” Becca asked, planting a hand on her hip and blocking the entrance with
her other arm.
“Coming up for dessert.” Jax
held up the carryout bag her mother had given him on the way out the door.
“Your mom packed tartufo for two. It’s still
your favorite, right?”
“Keep it.” She crossed her arms
over her chest. “I’m on a diet anyway.”
“Liar. You’re perfect just the
way you are.” His gaze slid over her body, assessing her from head to toe and
giving her all the feels in her belly. It was clear he liked what he saw. Lust
burned bright, flickering in those blue eyes like a flame greedy for oxygen.
She squeezed her thighs tight, refusing to acknowledge her own desire.
“Besides,” he went on, “I don’t have any spoons at my place, so if you don’t invite me
up, I’ll just have to leave them both here with you.”
Becca weighed her options. Her
mom’s tartufo was the best in the borough, and if they stood around arguing about it much
longer, there’d be nothing left but a soupy mess. Refusing to forgo a perfectly
good dessert, she relented and opened the door for Jax to pass.
Once inside the apartment, she
moved swiftly, making quick work of the carryout package. Then she and Jax
settled in at the bar, spoons in hand. Only, the way he was looking at her
spoke of an entirely different kind of hunger, one she refused to consider any further before
dessert.
Instead, she dug into her ice
cream.
“Oh, my God,” she moaned, the
dark chocolate coating her mouth with its silky goodness.
“This is so good, I could orgasm right here.”
Good one, Becca.
As soon as the words were out,
she regretted them, but what could she do? He seemed to have that effect on
her. Every time she was near him she felt like that bumbling kid again, fifteen
and clueless.
Shit.
The last thing she needed was
for Jax to think she had sex on the brain. Especially sex with him.
“Well, isn’t that a sad state of
affairs.”
“Excuse me?” She dropped her
spoon on the counter and shot him the haughtiest look she could muster. Who the
hell did he think he was, anyway?
“I like dessert as much as the next guy, but if you think
ice cream can make you come,” he said, his words a smoky caress, “then you’ve never
had a real orgasm. I’d be happy to correct that for you any time. Just say the
word.”
Firefighter Jackson Hart is back in Brooklyn and on the hunt for the girl who’s kept him burning for ten long years. The girl he left, in a total prick move, without saying goodbye. Now he’s determined to make it right, to hell with her three-date rule.
But Becca’s not ready to forgive and forget. In fact, she seems determined to stoke his fire every chance she gets. She wants to avoid sexy distractions like him? Fine. Because what she doesn’t know—yet—is that Jax isn’t the kind of man to give up when he wants something. And he always gets what he wants.
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