The Harty Boys, Book 3
Coming May 15, 2021
A torn Hart can only be mended by the right woman.
Fired from her dream job, Lydia Sullivan loses hope. How else do you drown your sorrows than in a cheap bottle of rum? Seems like a good plan until she runs smack into the hard chest of her dreamy neighbor Rex. Despite her not-so-adorable drunkenness, they strike up a friendship that quickly turns into more. But just when Lydia’s life is starting to look up—she’s got the job, the great guy with deep dimples, and the sun is shining—weird things begin to happen that make her question whether she’s losing her mind … or someone is out to get her.
Retired special operative and now security specialist Rex Hart normally falls in love with a new woman every night, but not this time. His neighbor with the hazel eyes and thin filter has him under her spell. He’d like to think she’s the one, but the way she’s acting has him torn between his heart and his head. He wants to believe she’s innocent, but instinct has him questioning everything—including his feelings.
Is Lydia who she claims to be? Is she the one … or the one he needs to turn loose?
BOOK STATUS: AND …. Done! Coming in at 87K words, this one is going to be dark and twisty. It’s off to the editor reader now.
He groaned, then growled. “Sit on my face.”
Lydia’s eyes widened and her hand stopped working his cock.
Rex opened both eyes. “What’s wrong?”
His lazy, sexy smile dropped and he propped himself up on his elbows. “Please don’t tell me you’ve never had a man go down on your before.”
Her head shook quickly. “No, no, it’s not that. I have. It’s just … I mean, I washed myself, but I haven’t tidied things up down there in a while. I don’t go bare as a peach, but I like to keep the hedge well … groomed if you know what I mean.”
He rolled his eyes and flopped back down into his pillow before reaching for her hand from where it was still wrapped around his cock. “Don’t care about that. Like fruit, like topiaries, like the wild, untamed wilderness. Now climb up onto my face, woman. I’m hungry.”
Warmth and lust infused her.
“Lydia …” he urged, hauling her over him with all his rippling muscles. “Climb up onto my face. I’m like a hobbit. I’ll have my first breakfast in bed, then we’ll head to the kitchen and I can whip us up some waffles.”
His nerdy reference to being a hobbit only made her like him even more.
Rex Hart was the walking definition of not judging a book by it’s cover. Because when she ogled him when he went for his runs or walked out to his truck for the last couple of months, never in a million years would she have guessed that he was closet nerd with a penchant for puzzles and Lord of The Rings.
“You could not be further from a hobbit,” she said, feeling her pussy pulse and tingle as he maintained eye contact with her, but slowly wedged his free hand into the elastic of her panties.
His brows scrunched and he made a mock dejected expression. “Are you saying I’m not courageous, brave and determined? Am I not a skilled listener? Do I not have good eyesight? I’d like to think that for my size I’m still nimble and deft in my movements.”
She sniffed a laugh. “Okay, maybe you have the psychological characteristics, along with the good listening and eyesight, but I’m more saying that you don’t look like a hobbit. Aren’t they generally short, fat and slow?”
He gripped her by the hips with both hands making her yelp. “Maybe some, but not this hobbit. Now give me my breakfast.” Then before she could complain—not that she would dream of it—he plopped her mound over his face, pulled her panties to the side and hit her clit with his tongue which made her leg spasm.