by Jodi Linton
Make Mine A Heartbreaker
Jodi Linton
Contents
Book Description
Also By Jodi Linton
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
A note to the reader
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2016 by Jodi Linton
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Book Description
Make Mine A Heartbreaker
Hannah is desperate to put an embarrassing blow-up doll encounter behind her. Who in the world knew she’d run into her brother’s best friend Nate Fox of all people in an adult store? When she gets the invite to be at a wedding alone, she decides she needs a pretend fiancé to face her ex-boyfriend.
Nate Fox is in deep PR problem—and having Hannah pose as his fiancée will help him smooth things out. But even though Hannah should be off-limits, the sizzling attraction between them proves to be a huge problem.
For a weekend, will they able to keep their heads on the deal and hands off each other?
Also By Jodi Linton
The Deputy Laney Briggs Series:
PRETTY RECKLESS
WHATCHA GONNA DO WITH A COWBOY
PRETTY SHAMELESS
PRETTY LAWLESS
Dirty Sinners Motorcycle Club:
REBEL LOVE
REBEL HEAT (Coming Spring 2017)
Standalones:
MAKE MINE A HEARTBREAKER
Chapter 1
If Hannah had known she would have been watching a rotating, naked cowgirl on the rooftop of a Texas adult novelty store she’d have said no to that last margarita at happy hour. But two hours ago reason seemed to fade along with her anxiety at her roommate’s suggestion to send her low-down cheating scum of an ex-boyfriend a blow-up doll. She could be brave for the sake of growing a backbone. It was just a damn sex toy inside an even bigger sex shop. Her cheeks flushed when the sign whipped around full-frontal again.
She might be a virgin sex-toy shopper, but her chastity belt snapped in two the night of her senior prom. With her ex. Her stomach dropped. Out of self-preservation, Hannah shot the stupid sign her middle finger. There. She could do pissy brave, too.
It was three months to the day since she walked in on Henry, her microbiologist ex- boyfriend, being spanked with a riding crop inside his lab office. Following Henry to Texas from L.A. so he could acquire his dream job had been a walk on the stupidity side. But that was the unimpressive, so-last-year Hannah. Today, Hannah was ready to prove she had goals. And once she crossed off her first item on her list toward righting her life by giving her ex a big F-U she’d feel so much damn better.
She popped her bubble gum and lifted her chin a notch before she stepped inside the store. The bell jingled above the door, and she watched the clerk behind the glass counter puff on an e-cigarette as he nodded in her direction. “Welcome to Frisky Business. We can help you find your inner sex kitten.”
She tucked a red curl of hair behind an ear. "I'm looking for the novelties."
"Male fetishes are in this front room. Our female products are in the back room past the maroon curtain."
Hannah crossed her arms and watched his eyes drop to her red T-shirt as he read the text printed across her boobs, “I can’t adult today,” out loud. She dared the guy to say anything. Crack a smile, even. When he didn’t flinch, she took it as a good omen and asked her next question. “You wouldn’t happen to have a geeky blow-up doll of a guy who looks like a cross between Chris Hemsworth and PeeWee Herman. With glasses?”
He raised an eyebrow. “A what?”
The butterflies took up flight in her stomach again. She looked the guy in the face and reminded herself that there was nothing wrong with stepping out of her comfort zone to prove a point. “I want to tell my ex-boyfriend to go screw himself.”
“Uh-huh?” The clerk rested his hand on the bell next to the register, making her feel oddly uncomfortable. "I think you might be the strangest customer I've ever had."
Hannah winced. "Is this where I'm supposed to say thank you?"
“No, don't thank me. I just find you odd.”
That deflated her mojo balloon. She nodded and turned to walk back toward the porn accessory section. Once she found Henry’s new life-sized best friend, Hannah could mail it to him as a house-warming gift. And why not? He deserved the finest Frisky Business had to offer. Maybe she’d even put a riding crop in the blow-up doll’s hand for old-time’s sake.
Two rows of unmentionables stood between her and an uneventful night in her apartment eating Blue Bell ice cream and binge watching Breaking Bad. Hannah felt the tequila roll in her stomach, and her hands grew suddenly sweaty. All things considered, she was a grown woman who thoroughly enjoyed sex. Just not with additional perks. Like male pleasure devices. As she played eyeball ping-pong with butt plugs, cock rings, and things she had no clue what they were, the knot in her stomach tightened. She stared at a penis pump, feeling her throat clamp shut. The package claimed to produce a banana-sized erection. No effing way that thing could expand a guy’s junk as the plastic wrap boasted. She tilted her head to the side and sighed. Nope, the penis pump still looked miserable.
Hannah balled her fist at her side and took a fortified breath.
I can be adventurous. I hate vanilla. I'm a freaking chocolate-with-sprinkles girl, for crying out loud. Oh Jeez, Hannah. Just grab the freaking blow-up doll, and then you can head over home for some ice cream therapy.
Her hand shot out and picked the first inflatable companion on the rack that she touched. She took a peek at the box, and the air stilled in her lungs. She clamped a hand over her mouth to conceal her laughter as she read Peter Pecker will put the punch in bedtime and snorted. Just about the cheesiest tagline in slogan history. With that in mind, she tucked the packaged blow-up doll under her arm and went to make her purchase. But before she could even reach the register, someone shouted, “Everyone down on the floor!”
Hannah looked up and froze when she saw a gun in the hand of a man at the front of the store.
Fudge-O-Rama.
The deflated sex doll fell from her fingers. Panic settled in her chest, and her heart beat against her rib cage like an angry prisoner. She dropped to all fours and began to crawl toward the back room hidden behind some dingy curtains, putting as much distance as possible between her and the front counter.
Nate Fox hated bets.
Even more, he hated losing them.
Last night’s poker game, which he’d lost, by the way, had forced him into this crappy store to buy a vibrator to take to the next game. They must’ve drank more beer than he originally thought. But his poker buddies expected an adult pleasure product in hand—his penance for losing—so he cranked the volume up on his iPod and focused on the selection of tackiness in front of him. He wouldn’t have thought that women liked pink, sparkly monster cocks, but from the assortment of toys displayed on the wall it seemed they did.
Nate turned to check out another wall of products right when the curtains parted and spotted a redhead with curves to spare crawl backward into the secluded room. He stuffed his earbuds in his jacket, and suddenly felt his throat go dry. She had on butt-hugging denim shorts, but for some reason he found himself staring a stupidly long time at her heart-patterned socks. He liked
their quirky appeal. A. Lot.
He cleared his throat and squatted so he could touch her shoulder. “I’m not sure you want to do that. That carpet might be infested."
"There's…" a breathy voice replied as the girl kept her back to him. “There's someone out there—”
"Ever consider the fact they might be buying a dirty movie?" he said, interrupting her husky plea.
The stunner in the denim hot pants whirled around, hitting her head at his crotch. Jesus H. Christ, he was being tested so fucking hard. Big, brown eyes looked up at him in wide-eyed confusion, and Nate swore he was experiencing a coronary. When her mouth pursed into an "oh shit" expression, he had to admit he was thinking the same thing.
Nate stared, his own confusion morphing into panic when the moment actually sunk in. Fuck me. Like a blast from the past, Hannah Lawson, old friend and a total no-fly zone, had somehow wound up inside the same porn shop. He’d met Hannah the day her brother became his roommate at the boys ranch for troubled teens they’d both been sent to in Montana. The ranch—and the ties he made there—was the reason he now stood next to a wall of sex toys. His counselor, John Stone, the only person to ever give a damn about him, was in a coma. And Nate had shored up the bad news with a round of poker and drinks last night. Avoiding conflicts was his M.O., that’s why he’d sent funds to help pay for Stone’s medical bills, not himself.
He could play it cool. He had to. Act like it was so freaking natural to chit-chat right in front of a wall of vibrators. Right, cool.
"Graham’s kid sister, Hannah right? Nate Fox,” he said. “God, it’s been a while. I didn’t know you moved to Texas.”
Try seven years to be exact. He’d moved back to Texas and started Chrome Motorcycles with his college roommate. And now his top-pick Ginger was kneeling before him in the flesh and dry humping his thigh.
Well, crap.
Hair swished past his zipper fly drawing his attention, and he heard Hannah mumble something.
"Yeah, well I'm up here, so could you please stop talking to my crotch?"
Her hands shot out, and she gripped his ass. Before he could react, she started to shake him. "I—I—I th—ink my hair is stuck in your zipper."
“Your what-what?”
“My hair,” she said.
“Hold still.” He stopped the body vibrations by cupping her face with his hands. “Let me see if I can work you free.”
"Ouch—ouch!" She slapped his ass. And he jumped. "You’re pulling my hair."
"We could use my pocket knife."
“My brother is going to hear how I was found dead stuck to Nate Fox’s crotch, and I won't be able to tell him I'm not an exhibitionist because I'll be in heaven." She yanked at her hair and released a panicky scream. "I'm going to die inside a porn shop!"
Nate rested one hand on her shoulder. “It could be worse. Like you could have your old buddy’s sister stuck to your fly.”
Hannah glared. “You shouldn’t have been standing in my escape route.”
He emitted a lengthy frustrated sigh. “Escape route? You’re inside a porn shop not a jailbreak.”
“Why does everyone keep reminding me where I am?”
Somewhere in the distance something went thud and they both jumped. Although Hannah was struggling with his crotch, which was funny about two seconds ago, he wanted nothing more than to figure out a way to cut her loose so they both could say good-bye and put this embarrassing afternoon behind them.
Thud, thud, thud.
Nate brushed his knuckles against her chin and smiled down at her. “No one’s questioning you here, Hannah. Okay? We'll just leave here and have a funny story to tell."
Hannah gingerly wrapped her fingers around his waistband, and Nate sucked down the growl trying to escape from deep within his chest. "How about telling that to the guy with the gun pointed at the shop clerk?"
Alarm rippled through him. "What—what gun? Why didn’t you say something?"
"I did. I said there was someone out there.”
"Sorry. I had trouble understanding since you were talking to my cock."
Hannah stared at him.
"Don’t look at me like that.” He started to unzip his pants, and her eyes grew wide as saucers. “I'm trying to dislodge you from my jeans."
She leaned closer and parted her lips. "Just do it."
As he reached for the waistband of his jeans, the curtains flew back and in stepped three men wearing bullet-proof vests. Nate should've remembered that Hannah never reacted predictably, so when she turned at the intrusion it shouldn't have shocked him, but having his friend's sister stuck to his zipper inside a porn shop had thrown his game.
Before he could readjust their compromising position, he heard—
"Austin PD. Put your hands up. This is a drug bust."
Chapter 2
“A blow job? Are you telling me the bed isn’t adequate enough to get your freak on now?”
The wrench slipped to the garage floor as Nate pushed out from underneath the 1939 Vincent Rapide he’d been tinkering on and glared at his business partner.
“I was there because I lost a damn poker bet. Not because I was looking for a little action,” Nate said. “I told you I’d keep my pants zipped, and I did. Sort of.”
Jack Campbell, his straight-arrow business partner in Chrome Motorcycles and his old college roommate, tugged at his necktie. “That’s exactly why I never play poker with Ben and his football coach buddies unless I have a wingman there to guide me out of my own stupidity. He’ll get you in trouble every time.”
He grumbled. “Now you tell me.”
Jack removed his Stetson. “Urban’s son called this morning and said that Senior didn’t find the incident at the porn shop too appealing.”
For the last couple of months they’d been seeking a partnership with Urban Chopper Products, the largest refurbished motorcycle distributor around, yet the owner hadn’t jumped on the deal as enthusiastically as they’d hoped. Bill Urban wore his conservative values on his sleeve, and Nate knew the guy didn’t care for his playboy reputation. So to save their asses he’d agreed to put his womanizing ways aside until the ink dried on their contract. He wanted to take a cross-country motorcycle ride in the fall, the exact same drive his mother had done when she was twenty-nine, before the cancer took her nine months later. Chrome just didn’t have the manpower yet for him to take that long of a vacation, although the new deal could give him that.
The porn shop was a total fuck-up. He could practically taste it.
Nate looked at Jack. “You want me to call Urban? I can try to explain the situation to him and cross my fingers he believes in awkward accidents.”
“No, I don’t want you calling.” Jack shifted in his cowboy boots. “We need damage control. You can’t really think Urban will give a rat’s ass to the whys you got caught with your pants down in a sex-toy shop. We live in the Bible belt, Nate. Folks might do the nasty, but they don’t get fucking press for it.”
Nate climbed to his boots, wondering for the first time in days if Hannah had received any blowback from their embarrassing encounter. He should’ve checked in on her, made sure she was fine. Even though he’d been under the impression she wanted nothing to do with him after the cops had cleared them both of any wrongdoing. She hadn’t even said as much as good-bye before walking out the police station doors.
“Okay, let’s just remember this isn’t that big of a deal.” Nate reached inside the mini-fridge, retrieved a cold one, and cracked the cap before taking a long, slow pull. “Even the cops agreed the whole incident was a misunderstanding.”
“Not a big deal?” Jack punctuated the statement with several rapid breaths. “Our biggest business partnership could pull out over such a misunderstanding. Bill Urban runs a tight ship. They’re a family business, and your little pantsing incident could cause Urban Chopper Products to sign with our competitor.” He tossed a couple of magazines on the ground. “Having pictures of your latest bimbo delivering you
a B.J. is not the image we want.”
Nate felt his agitation intensify. “Call her a bimbo again, and I’ll give you a new tattoo in the shape of a wrench on your forehead.”
“Fine, so B.J. girl isn’t a bimbo,” Jack said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “But we’re still dealing with a lot of shit on this.”
He thought about telling Jack to stop stressing over the small stuff, but that was before he checked out the newspapers sprawled across the garage floor. It’d been the first time he’d actually paid attention to the gossip mill. Even though the images of Hannah’s face were grainy, the bastard reporters had printed her name right over his crotch. Nate’s throat tightened in disgust. His gaze dropped on the bold headlines gracing the trashy gossip mags.
Surveillance video to be released soon of the kinky couple. It seems the bad-boy half of Chrome Motorcycles has a thing for redheads.
Hot fury coiled in his gut as he glanced at the last one: Nate Fox at it again with another nameless bimbo. Like hell he’d let the press refer to Hannah as if she were his usual flavor of the month. He might have a womanizing reputation, and yeah he owned it, but that was his problem. Hannah was innocent in all of this.
“I’ll sue their asses if they post that video and harm Hannah,” he said.
Jack adjusted the gold and cobalt blue striped necktie loosely dangling from his shirt collar. “I already saved our asses, Hannah’s included.”
“What did you do?” Unease settled in his gut.
“I did a little background check on the porno shop girl.” Jack stroked a hand through his hair as he met Nate’s glare. “She works as a preschool teacher at Sunshine Rascals, and I think you two should have a talk.”
“That girl is named Hannah,” he warned in a low, vibrating growl. “She’s an old friend from my past back in L.A. before I started putting up with your stubborn ass.”
