Some think their lives are ruled by fate. Others by chance. But Annalise Morrison knows who crafts her destiny – an interfering author hag – and if Annalise ever finds that meddling writer, she is going to shove that keyboard down her throat. No one is going to tell her who to date, but grrr…why does Theo Griffin have to be so hot?
The man who’s only looking for a little T&A finds a whole lot of trouble…
Theo Griffin’s down to play hero to Annalise’s heroine. He’s all in for any kind of action between the sheets this novel requires. That’s what the hero does in these kinds of books, right? But this sexy woman entices him to ditch his plans and tempts him to give more of himself than he ever thought possible. Will he turn his back on love…or surrender?
It’s fun and games until the emotions turn real..
Read the fun story behind how T&A got its name by going here.
I shake my head because the worst itch just materialized right along my spine. Normally an annoying little tickle isn’t a big deal, but the irritation is in a spot I can only reach with my right hand, and with the cast that’s impossible. Still not a big deal, I’ve found a work around, the nearest wall, or countertop will usually do the trick. A quick rub and the itch will be gone. Just awkward as hell to watch. As my mother and Josie and Harper have all told me.
I take a backward step until the cold metal of the food truck pushes into my shoulder blades, and I try to maneuver a quick side to side. Not good enough. If anything, now every nerve ending and sensation centers around this one irritated spot on my back.
“Annalise, you okay?” he asks, his brows draw together in bewilderment.
Oh, you know, I like rubbing up against food trucks like a cat in heat.
It’s like the author specifically designed the most embarrassing scenario where I could meet this hottie, and then thought – let’s ramp that shit up.
Well, screw you author. I’m done. You’ve had this guy happen upon me talking to myself and admit that I think I’m part of a romance novel, while he gets to look gorgeous, carefree, and not covered in paint and the hugs of dozens of kids who still have to be reminded to wash their hands. Yeah, author, I’m a human being. I itch. I refuse to be weird about it. I rub against the truck again just to show the author I mean business.
“It’s my back. The cast makes it tough to scratch sometimes.”
His brow lifts with interest. “Oh, you have an itch. Now that’s a problem I can fix.” He nods to the attendant with a quick thanks and a smile, and then he reaches for my hand and twines his warm fingers through mine. He tugs me toward an out of the way corner in the shadows.
He positions me in front of him and then he begins to scratch my back. Gentle at first, and the heat of his fingers penetrates through the material of my T-shirt and I’ve never felt anything quite so good.
“Mmmmmm,” I moan, and I don’t even care. My head falls forward and I hold my breath. “Up. A little harder, oh yeahhhhhhhh.”
“Damn Annalise, I could scratch your back all day.”
I laugh because he’s funny, and I laugh because I love knowing he’s enjoying touching me, and I laugh because it’s been so long since I felt this good. I know I should probably stop him, and after a moment, a loooooong moment, I turn. His hands fall to his sides.
“Thanks. You hit all the right spots.”
I think I almost hear him groan.
“My pleasure,” he tells me. Why does that sound more like a promise?