Southern Seducer: A Best Friends to Lovers Romance

by Jessica Peterson

  I also miss my friends and colleagues in Charlotte. But it’s only a two-hour drive, and Beau loves the excuse to take one of his fancy cars out for a turn.

  Overall, though? Life is good.

  So damn good.

  All three of us, as a family—we’re bonding, and it’s brilliant.

  Beau cleans us up, and we have wine in bed, reliving our favorite moments from last night for the tenth time. Beau loved the band and our signature whiskey cocktail. Predictably, I loved the food—we did something a little different and served Chef Katie’s gnocchi alongside Samuel’s roasted chicken—and the decor. With Milly’s help, we came up with a bold color scheme of French blue and bright red. Sounds tacky on paper, but in real life, Milly made it magical.

  Maisie was part of the festivities, of course. She was smiley and snuggly and just the happiest little bundle there ever was. Holding her on my hip at the altar, I felt happy and proud.

  I fantasized motherhood could feel like that. But after the reality of having a newborn at home hit me like a ton of bricks, I’d thought it was impossible. I’d resigned myself to the fact that motherhood was pain and boredom and frustration.

  I thought I’d feel that way forever.

  I’m happy to report that what the doctor told me is true. It really does get better. Not easier. But better.

  We have our good days and our bad ones, too. Overall, though, every week brings more joy than frustration. More fun than headaches. My old life is definitely gone, and while I still miss the freedom I had to lie on the couch and binge watch Netflix on hungover Sundays, there are parts of that life I don’t miss.

  I like my new life. Not all the time. But I’m happy.

  If I could go back and tell my brand-new mom self a few things, here’s what I’d say: stop trying so hard to bounce back. Let life fall apart for a while—it’s okay. Get all the help you can. You will sleep again. And no phase lasts forever. The days are long, but the weeks fly by, and one day soon, you’ll even find yourself wishing time would slow down. Then when your baby shits in the tub for the second time in as many days, you’ll wish it would speed up.

  When she plays happily by herself on her playmat for twenty minutes at a pop, you’ll wish it would slow down again.

  My heart still flutters at the memory of last night’s ceremony. Or maybe it’s the wine buzz that’s got my pulse skipping.

  Or maybe it’s just Beau. Naked beside me in our bed, scruffy and relaxed and happy.

  “Again?” he asks, eyes flicking over my face.

  “What do you expect? You turn me on. A lot.”

  Laughing, he leans over and kisses me.

  “Oh!” he says, pulling back. “I had a thought just now.”

  “You did? Congratulations.”

  He furrows his brow in mock consternation. “I do have those every so often, you know.”

  “I know.” I tuck a stray lock of hair away from his face. “Tell me.”

  “Remember when you asked me why we never got together until we did? I’ve thought more about that. And I think the baby had a lot to do with it. I think she made you realize what’s important, and you made me realize the same. I mean, yeah, we could’ve definitely hooked up earlier. But I don’t think we would’ve been ready.”

  “Maisie made us ready.”

  “Yes.”

  “I like that.”

  “I like you.” He cups my breast in his hand.

  Moaning, I lean in for a kiss when a voice in the hallway stops me cold.

  “Helloooo!”

  Beau startles. I shoot upright, making the throb in my head intensify.

  “Is that your brother?” I whisper.

  “Yeah. Samuel!” he shouts, getting out of bed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “It’s five o’clock, you fool!” someone else replies. Sounds like Rhett. I smile. “Drinking time. And we weren’t gonna let y’all drink alone on the first day of your married life.”

  Shoving his arms into a shirt, Beau murmurs, “Lucky us.”

  I get dressed and brush my teeth.

  When I emerge from the bedroom, I see our families gathered in the kitchen. Every single person, from Mama and Larry to Milly and Maisie, is crowded inside our house, most with cocktails in hand.

  One person I didn’t expect? Emma.

  She’s decanting a bottle of wine by the stove. Samuel is beside her, lifting bottles out of the cardboard box at his feet onto the counter.

  Emma turns her head to look at him. He looks back, and she smiles. He blushes.

  For a second—it’s so quick I would’ve missed it if I wasn’t watching—he puts a hand on the small of her back.

  “You seeing this?” Beau asks, low, in my ear.

  “Oh yeah,” I say. “Told you there was something going on there.”

  “Enemies to lovers,” Milly says, sidling up beside me. “Makes for a good story, don’t you think?”

  I nudge her with my elbow. “What’s your story gonna be?”

  “Romeo and Juliet?” Beau answers.

  “Really?” I ask her.

  She just shrugs. “Maybe.”

  Emma and Samuel pass glasses around. Someone calls for a toast. Beau, ever the good sport, raises his glass at the same moment he rests an arm over my shoulders.

  “As much as I wanna hate y’all for crashing our day after,” he says, “I don’t because we’re hopping on a plane to Hawaii tomorrow for eight glorious days of solitude. Thank you, Mom and Lizzie, for watching Miss Maisie for us.”

  “Happy to,” Mrs. B. says. She’s holding the baby, and she looks beyond blissed out.

  Mom just beams.

  “And thank you all for the best wedding weekend ever,” I say. “We’re lucky to have you in our lives.”

  Maisie giggles.

  Larry toasts to love.

  Beau can’t keep his eyes off me.

  We’re hungover and happy, surrounded by family and friends.

  This life we’ve chosen, it’s a good one.

  Want more Beau and Annabel? You’re in luck. I wrote a bonus epilogue! It’s Beau’s birthday, and Annabel has a big surprise for him. Grab your copy here!

  Thank you for reading SOUTHERN SEDUCER. It’s a book straight from my heart, one I knew I needed to write when I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression one month after my daughter, Grace, was born in November 2019. Like Annabel, I struggled hard in those early days. But I wish I’d known I wasn’t alone in the darkness. I would’ve felt so much less shame, so much less like a failure, if I’d heard others talk openly about their experiences with PPD and new motherhood.

  And so this book was born. This was not an easy story to write. But my hope is that some of you feel less alone as you read it. I also hope to further the conversation around the realty of new parenthood so that, one day in the not too distant future, moms (and families) get the resources they need to make the experience a more positive one.

  If you think you’re suffering from Postpartum Depression and/or Anxiety, I encourage you to seek help. It’s not a pleasant conversation to have, but I know from firsthand experience how life changing it can be. A combination of antidepressants and therapy have kept me afloat during the first year of Grace’s life. I cannot imagine what my experience would’ve been like without them.

  SOUTHERN HOTSHOT, Samuel and Emma’s book, is next up in the North Carolina Highlands Series! I’m hard at work on it and hope to have it out sometime this winter. In the meantime, check out SOUTHERN CHARMER, the first standalone book in my Charleston Heat Series. Yes, it has southern studs galore, food porn, and shamelessly raunchy sex scenes. And yes, you can read it for free with Kindle Unlimited (PS: it’s also available as an audiobook, with the fabulous Joe Arden and Emma Wilder narrating!) Keep reading for a steamy excerpt!

  In the spirit of openness, I love nothing more than hanging out with readers. I spend the most time in my reader group on Facebook, The City Girls, where we talk about anything and everything�
��PPD, butt stuff, what we’re having for dinner. It’s a fun place.

  You can also follow my not-so-glamorous life as a romance author and new mom on Instagram @JessicaPAuthor.

  Southern Charmer Excerpt

  Eli

  “Olivia!” Can’t help it. My gaze flicks down her body. “He—hey.”

  Of course.

  Of course Yankee girl shows up to The Spotted Wolf looking hot as hell five seconds after I decide to pump the brakes.

  What a sick fucking joke.

  Thanks for nothing, universe.

  Olivia, bless her, is wearing blue jeans that are tight tight tight. Her white button down would be prim if it wasn’t partially see through. The red lace bra she’s wearing underneath—

  I can’t.

  I focus my gaze on her feet instead. She’s wearing cute Chuck Taylors that are a little scuffed up.

  Her hair falls in loose, unruly waves around her shoulders. I bite the inside of my bottom lip, hard, to keep from winding a lock around my finger. I imagine how silky it would feel. How her lips would fall open and her cheeks would flush when I gave it a tug.

  I can smell her shampoo. Something clean and herbal.

  She smells good enough to eat.

  “I finished my chapter early today, so I thought I’d do some exploring. I saw the lights from the sidewalk and came in for a quick drink…” Olivia puckers her brow. “Eli? You all right?”

  “Yep,” I bite out, blinking. “Sorry, I just—uh. Long day. Beer—” Bullshit.

  I go in for a hug. It’s awkward, all thanks to me. Olivia has to go on her tip toes to reach me, and I kind of half crouch, half bend over. My brain screams slow. But my body—

  Well. There’s a reason I keep my crotch region bowed away from her.

  I fall back. Luke gives me a not so subtle nudge.

  “Don’t be rude, Elijah,” he says. “Introduce us.”

  I tug a hand through my hair. “Olivia, this is my friend Luke. Luke, this is my new neighbor, Olivia.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Luke says, aiming his all-American-baseball-player smile at Olivia while extending his hand. “I hear you’re new in town.”

  She takes Luke’s hand. “I’m already smitten with it.”

  “Charleston’s a great city. Only downside is that this grump lives here.” Luke points his thumb at me.

  “I’m not a grump,” I bite out.

  Luke shrugs. “See what I mean?”

  I resist the urge to punch him in that handsome mug of his.

  Grace gives Olivia a hug, and they chat for a minute. It’s obvious they’re friends, both of them laughing and gesticulating wildly as they catch up. I have to say that seeing how well they get along makes me feel all warm and mushy inside. Olivia’s a natural conversationalist. Good listener, thoughtful talker. Grace shoots me a look, grinning.

  I like this one.

  Because Olivia wasn’t great enough. Now she’s got to go and be wonderful with my sister, too.

  Yet another reason to think I might not deserve this girl. I’m gripped by the terrible idea that I have nothing to offer her. Which, in my rational mind, I know is ridiculous. I’m feeding her. Editing her book. Encouraging her to chase after this incredible career she wants. I’m inspiring her in the same way she’s inspiring me.

  That counts for something. It has to.

  Has to.

  “Let’s get you somethin’ to drink,” I say to Olivia during a pause in their conversation. “What’re you having?”

  Olivia glances at my beer, then at the empty shot glasses on the bar. “That looks good.”

  Behind the bar, Jake nods, checking out Olivia before turning to grab the Fireball.

  My grip tightens on my bottle. I am not a jealous guy. But all of a sudden I’m fantasizing about clocking every dickhead in this bar who dares to so much as glance at Olivia.

  I spear Jake with a look when he turns back around. He takes the hint, quickly pouring our shots and handing Olivia a beer before busying himself with the dishwasher.

  She picks up the shot glass and gives its contents a sniff. “It’s been a long time since I’ve taken a shot. What the hell is this stuff? Smells like candy.”

  “Tastes like it, too.” Luke grabs his glass and taps it to Olivia’s. “Actually, that’s a lie. It kind of tastes like fiery death. But it gets the job done.”

  Olivia cocks a brow, smiling. “Fiery death. All right then. I’m in.”

  We take the shot together, my eyes glued to her face the whole time. She winces, blinking hard, after she swallows. Her eyes water a bit. I can tell she wants to sputter, or maybe gag, but instead she just shakes her head and grabs her beer, taking a long pull.

  “Whew,” she says, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. “That is…interesting.”

  I’m smiling now, too. God damn she’s cute.

  “Yep. You’re definitely gonna feel interesting tomorrow morning, that’s for sure,” Grace says.

  The patio is really getting packed. People hang out in front of the stage, waiting for the band to begin. I look up when the lead singer from Buns ’n Roses introduces himself into the microphone. A beat later, the band bursts out into a loud, throbbing version of “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard.

  Immediately the front half of the patio turns into a dance floor. Hands are in the air, there’s hollerin’ and hootin’ and some pretty egregious dry humping going on.

  I turn to Olivia, half hoping she’s got a look of disgust on her face because she hates eighties music and/or Def Leppard. I need a reason to want her a little less. A reason to help me pump the goddamn brakes.

  Instead, her face is lit up with a smile as she mouths the lyrics, nodding her head in time to the beat.

  “You like Def Leppard?” I say, raising my voice so she can hear me.

  Olivia nods, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. “Love ’em. Although Bruce Springsteen is probably my favorite. From the eighties, at least.”

  My uncle introduced me to The Boss when I was a kid. I’ve been obsessed ever since.

  I meet Luke’s eyes over her head.

  Goodness.

  I’m in big fucking trouble.

  As if on cue, Buns ’n Roses plays “Dancing in the Dark”.

  Olivia looks at me. I look at her.

  “Wanna dance?” I ask.

  She chews on her bottom lip. My heart falls. She’s gonna turn me down again. God, why do I keep doing this to mys—

  “Would love to,” she replies with a smile. She looks at Luke and Grace. “Are you guys going to be okay? I hate to leave you…”

  “Y’all go have fun,” Luke says, hardly giving us a glance as he turns to my sister.

  I shoot him a dark look.

  “You two behave.” Then I nod my head toward the band. “Let’s go, Yankee girl.”

  She follows me as I try to nudge my way through the crowd. It’s slow going; the patio is really packed. I turn around to see some asshole cutting Olivia off, shouldering her aside.

  “Hey!” I shout at the guy, stepping back. “Watch it.”

  Then I reach behind me and grab Olivia’s hand. For a second, it stays lax in mine. I worry I’ve made her uncomfortable. But I don’t want her to get lost in the throng. Shit—

  But then she firms her grip, fingers curling around my palm. I glance over my shoulder and she meets my eyes.

  “All right?” I ask.

  She nods, her smile returning. “All right.”

  My pulse hiccups. Her hand feels small and warm in my own. She’s trusting me.

  I feel like I could fucking fly.

  I turn back around and head for the stage, keeping Olivia close. Once, when I stop unexpectedly, she kind of crashes into me. I swear to God I almost bite off my tongue at the feel of her tits pressed against my back. Am I imagining that she lingers there for half a heartbeat?

  I keep moving. I don’t wanna do something stupid. We burrow our way to a spot in the middle of the danc
e floor. The lead singer has busted out a saxophone, and everyone around us is going nuts. Olivia comes to stand beside me, her hip brushing against mine when she shimmies.

  I take a chance and give her hand a squeeze.

  Olivia smiles, squeezing back.

  I can’t let her go. Not yet. I crave this. Whatever this feeling is.

  I raise my arm and twirl her around. Then she raises her arm and attempts to twirl me, and even though I bend my back, I somehow manage to fuck it up, spilling beer all over the front of my button up shirt. Her eyes widen when they fall on the stain. She puts the flat of her palm over it. Over my stomach.

  “Sorry!” she shouts.

  My entire body warms at the simple contact. I don’t wanna read too much into it. That she’s the one touching me now.

  But I do.

  I lean into it. Into her palm.

  Into her.

  And she doesn’t pull away.

  “Don’t give me an excuse to take my shirt off,” I reply.

  Olivia laughs, taking a step closer. “Like you need one.”

  I cock a teasing brow, my free hand going to the top button. “Should I?”

  “I don’t wanna get kicked out yet. Band’s too good,” she replies, swatting away my hand.

  Her playful touching—her flirting—is driving me up the wall. It’s such a fucking turn on. The blood inside my skin feels downright giddy.

  I catch her hand, guiding it onto the back of my neck. Her eyes flash with heat, and she steps into me, sliding her other arm onto my shoulder. Pressing our bodies together.

  The solid, soft feel of her against me is enough to make me wanna scream. Our bodies fit together perfectly.

  Her curves are all over me.

  My cock starts to feel heavy when she digs the tips of her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, gently dragging her fingernails across my scalp.

  I curl an arm around her waist and hold her closer. Duck my head to murmur in her ear.

  “I like that.”

  Olivia’s nose brushes against the line of my jaw. I don’t know if it’s intentional or not. But it turns me on in a really big way.