Part-Time Lovers (Friendship Chronicles Book 4)

by Shelley Munro

  His cock pulsed against the walls of her vagina and his shaft seemed to thicken. He groaned and stroked into her again hard and fast. Once. Twice. His face contorted in a mask of pleasure, his big body quivering with the punch of his climax.

  “Yvonne.” He stole her next breath with his kiss, the uneven thumping of his heart keeping time with her own pulse rate. “God, Yvonne. That was amazing.”

  She grinned at him. “Think how much better it will feel with practice.”

  “Cheeky minx.” He pulled out of her and tugged her against his sweaty body. “I was serious about spanking you.”

  Laughter bubbled through her as she winked at him. “As long as the spanking comes with cooling lotion and cuddles afterward.”

  They lay quietly together, his arm brushing up and down her spine.

  “I need to move soon and pick up the boys.”

  “What say we both go to collect them? We have time to drive to Napier and buy a ring. The boys could help us choose, and we could celebrate with dinner before we head back to Clare.”

  Warmth flooded her, and she found herself smiling and tearing up at the same time. “That’s a great idea. Michael and David would love the treat, and they’ll be so excited that we’re all going to live together.”

  His eyes were bright with happiness. “Are you okay with moving to the farm?”

  “Of course.”

  Nolan gathered her in his arms and the atmosphere thickened between them. She pressed a kiss to his neck and reveled in his possessive hold, the stroke of his hand and the renewed surge of his cock against her stomach.

  “We don’t have time for a quickie,” she whispered, a hint of laughter in her voice.

  “No problem. We have the rest of our lives.”

  “The farmer has found his wife,” she murmured.

  “Damn straight,” Nolan said. “And this time I’m keeping her.”

  Would you like to read the prequel to Secret Lovers, book one in the Friendship Chronicles? Get a free copy of Turning Point (a short story featuring Connor’s mother and stepfather) by signing up for my Readers’ Group. You’ll also learn about upcoming releases, receive free books and short stories tied to my some of my series plus contest and special promotion news.

  Also, I want to ask a favor. Word-of-mouth is crucial for an author to succeed. If you enjoyed Part-Time Lovers, please consider leaving a review. Even if it’s only a few lines, it would be a tremendous help.

  Please turn the page for a glimpse of Enemy Lovers, the next book in my Friendship Chronicles series plus an excerpt from one of my standalone romances, One Night of Misbehavior.

  Enjoy!

  Shelley

  Excerpt – Enemy Lovers

  Whoa. Dallas O’Grady caught a glimpse of blonde hair seconds before the woman kicked her flat tire. She owned the sexiest arse he’d seen in months. Without another thought, he pulled his truck onto the shoulder and climbed out to offer assistance.

  “Problem?”

  “My brother is an idiot.” Her lyrical voice held the same crisp chill of the wind whistling across the Napier road. She turned, and he caught a friendly smile belying her words. “Thanks for stop— You!”

  The smile skidded away.

  Hard drops of rain fell on Dallas’s face, the sleeves of his brown leather jacket, as he eyeballed a very sexy, very grown-up Laura Drummond. His gaze shifted to the gray, washed out clouds, the sky building to dense black on the horizon, then to the rear tire on her late model sedan. “Fine, if you don’t want my help, I’ll be leaving.”

  “No, please.” Her hand shot out to halt his retreat. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry you’re hobnobbing with the enemy?” He spelled out what they were both thinking. Their parents would issue horrendous battle cries if they witnessed this scene, saw the pair inhaling the same air, let alone engaging in something civil like a conversation.

  She swept a strand of blonde hair away from her pink lips. “You’re not my enemy. I don’t know you.” She stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets, hunched her shoulders against the rain and stamped her feet. “Look, I’m grouchy. I have a flat. My brother borrowed my spare last week and told me he put it back. My phone is dead, and I’m not going to make Clare in time for my cousin’s hen party. My mother will make dolls in my image and stick pins in them.”

  “My brother said there’s a slip partially blocking the road leading into the town, near the Shannon Pass. If it keeps raining, they might close the roads, if they haven’t already. You wouldn’t make it even if your car was drivable.”

  “Yep, I’m screwed,” she said.

  No, she wasn’t—not yet, but he’d love to take that thought to its logical conclusion. While their families might harbor long-standing grudges, his dick wasn’t sticking with the program. The skinny Laura Drummond from his vague school-day memories had grown into a classy woman. Her brown eyes glinted with intelligence while her mouth…

  Dallas tore his gaze off her because his inappropriate thoughts bore repercussions. For one—a painful hard-on. And two, no way could he cozy up with the enemy.

  He cleared his throat. “What do you want to do? I can give you a lift to Clare and hope we’ll make it past the slip, or I can ring for a breakdown truck.”

  The rain was coming down harder now, icy crystal pellets pummeling his cheeks. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worried it then nodded a decisive agreement.

  “Let me grab my purse and overnight bag,” she said. “I’ll grab a ride and chance my luck. The slip might have been cleared already.”

  Dallas told himself not to look, but when she bent over to retrieve her bag, his eyes zeroed in on her arse.

  Down boy.

  God, he hadn’t experienced this sort of reaction to a woman for a long time. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her mouth, holding her in place by her hair, and most of all he wanted to tie her to his bed. He wanted the classy Laura Drummond to submit to him while he fucked them both to breath-stealing pleasure.

  Shaking the lust away, he accepted her bag and stowed it behind the driver’s seat. He straightened, his mind leaping straight to her and sexual desire. Man, he was weak. Giving in to his libido, he watched her lock her sedan and splash through puddles to join him.

  “You don’t resemble your sisters and brother.” They were dark-haired, her sisters both shorter than Laura.

  “Nope, everyone says I’m the cuckoo in the nest.” She peeled off her wet raincoat and slid her long legs into his vehicle. “Ugh, it’s bucketing down out there. I’m lucky you came along.”

  She was still talking when Dallas climbed behind the wheel. Nervous? He grunted, started his truck and pulled on to the road, trying to ignore the unpleasant sensation of water dripping down his neck.

  “I take after my great-grandmother on my mother’s side. They say I’m her twin.”

  Dallas nodded while his mind trotted back to the more pleasant occupation of imagining this woman naked and engaged with him in things carnal. A whoosh of heat replaced the chill of wet clothes.

  “What are you going to do if the road is closed?” she asked.

  “My cabin is on this side.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you wondering what I’m going to do with you if the road is closed?”

  “Please.” A strangled laugh emerged from her, tinged with a healthy dose of uncertainty. “I doubt you’d do away with me.”

  “But you’re not too sure?” He set the window wipers to a faster speed and eased up on the accelerator, not taking his attention off the road. “I am one of those O’Gradys.”

  “Positive.” She slanted him an ice-princess look, lifted that elegant nose just so. “I’m pretty sure you’re not hiding horns under your hair, although you might be concealing a tail. Even so, I’m confident I’ll get through this ordeal unscathed. I’ll grab a ride back to Napier. There’s bound to be someone heading to the city.”

  Dallas barked out a laugh, amused at her sly humor
lurking beneath the hauteur. She didn’t act like any Drummond he’d come into contact with in the past. He’d thought he might have consigned himself to an hour of chilly silence—more than an hour in these driving conditions. But she’d tossed his assumptions on their butt, and he found himself wanting to explore her mentally. Ditto the physical.

  “What do you do for a job?” He shot her a quick glance, caught the wrinkling of her nose.

  “My mother organized a place for me at a charity. I’m working for them at present, but I’d prefer a position with more challenge.”

  “What sort of employment are you looking for?” Hearsay said Laura’s older sisters had never worked in their lives. They’d done the socialite thing, found rich husbands and married. They were now popping out a new generation of Drummonds to heap down hate on the O’Grady family.

  “I enjoy organizing things, which makes me a natural in the administration field.”

  “Are you good with computers?”

  “Not bad. Any program I don’t know, I can learn. I’m a quick study.” Her chin lifted a fraction as if she expected him to challenge her statement.

  Again, he found a smile pushing his lips for escape. He enjoyed a woman who surprised him. “If you weren’t a Drummond, I’d offer you a job.”

  “What sort? What do you do?”

  Again, not the reaction he’d expected. “My brothers and I own a couple of Irish bars in Napier, and I have several rental properties. It’s getting too much for me to handle the paperwork along with the day-to-day things.” The pub where he had his office wasn’t in the best part of town. Nah, he couldn’t see Laura slumming it at O’Grady’s. “We’re thinking of buying the old pub in Clare.”

  “The one that closed down due to fire damage?”

  “Yeah.” Dallas peered through the windshield, not taking his eyes off the road.

  “Can I interview for the job?”

  Dallas slowed even further until his truck crawled. Closer to the Shannon Pass, the rain slapped the windows, obliterated the scenery. What he could see of the sky was a sullen gray and lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a rumble of thunder. “You want to work in a pub? Maybe I should check you for horns and a tail. You have an impish sense of humor.”

  “I’m not joking,” she said, and he felt the weight of her gaze. “But if you want to check me for devilish signs you go right ahead. I might enjoy it.”

  Dallas opened his mouth, shut it again, risked a swift glance in her direction. A tiny grin played around her luscious lips. Oh yeah. She was pleased with herself. “I’m an O’Grady, sweetheart. I don’t possess the right bloodlines for you.”

  Purchase Enemy Lovers

  Excerpt – One Night of Misbehavior

  A modern-day retelling of Cinderella, set in New Zealand

  “Charlotte Joanna Dixon!” A shrill voice—her stepmother’s—hacked through Charlotte’s Saturday morning lie-in and intensified the boom, boom, boom of her aching head. “Of all the mornings for you to sleep late,” Elizabeth screeched. “Didn’t you set your alarm clock? I have to meet the fundraising committee in an hour.” The sharp accusations kept coming, accompanied by a thunk on her bedroom door.

  Charlotte stared up at the damp spot on her bedroom ceiling and started silently counting to ten. One. Two. Three. Snippets of music, memories of a sexy masculine form crept into her mind, and her count faltered. Last night she’d experienced the dizzy taste of freedom and now the thought of her normal routine rubbed like a raw blister. Her mouth settled into a mutinous line. Maybe she’d stay here all day.

  “Charlotte!” Doors slammed. The water pipes in the old Victorian groaned as they gave up water for the shower. “Hurry up.”

  Or not. Sighing, Charlotte scrambled into jeans and a T-shirt and trudged down the sweeping stairs to the kitchen. On automatic pilot, she started the coffeemaker then filled the jug to boil for Gran’s tea. While she waited, she trotted outside to grab the early morning post from the mailbox.

  Soon the scent of fresh coffee flooded the kitchen, making her stomach lurch in protest. Maybe the last glass of Champagne hadn’t been the best idea. Gritting her teeth, she set the breakfast table, then swallowed down two headache tablets and assembled a tea tray for her grandmother. When she carried the tray and three letters upstairs, she found her grandmother was already awake, perusing one of the new craft magazines she’d had Charlotte purchase for her the previous day.

  “Morning, Gran. How are you feeling? You have mail from your friends.”

  “Charlotte.” Gran put down the magazine and peered over her glasses. Her blonde curls were already brushed into submission and a pale pink lipstick gave her face a touch of color. She cocked her head in Charlotte’s direction like an inquisitive bird. “You were late home. Tell me about the ball.”

  “Shush, someone will hear.” Heat suffused Charlotte’s cheeks as memories of the previous evening rose to thump her over the head—seductive music, dancing, glasses of tickly Champagne. Many glasses of crisp, fruity Champagne. And Zorro.

  Her entire evening summed up in a few words. She’d let a tall, masked man seduce her with his charisma and endless glasses of Champagne. The night of freedom had gone to her head along with the alcoholic buzz, and for one night, the mysterious and very sexy Zorro had shoved her loneliness aside. Unsteady hands poured tea for her grandmother. After adding a touch of milk, she handed over the cup and saucer.

  “I danced so much my feet are sore,” she said, opting for a partial truth. She did have a blister on her little toe.

  “Good. Did you see Elizabeth at the ball? What about Jenny and Rachel?”

  Charlotte plopped on the end of Gran’s bed and nodded cautiously. The pain was muted now, the tablets working their magic. “They seemed to enjoy the ball. Everyone danced all night. The band was excellent.”

  Gran’s faded blue eyes twinkled behind the lenses of her glasses. “Did they recognize you?”

  “They didn’t glance at me twice.”

  “I told you so.” Her grandmother’s gaze zeroed in on her neck.

  Charlotte recalled the addictive kisses Zorro had trailed down her throat, the sensual bite and suck, and groaned inwardly. Kisses plus suction equaled one thing. Hickeys.

  “Did you meet someone special?”

  “No,” Charlotte said quickly. Too quickly.

  “I see.”

  Charlotte was glad someone saw because she didn’t understand her actions of the previous night. Yes, she’d had too much Champagne, but she’d known what she was doing. No one had forced her to kiss Zorro or to run her hands down his naked chest. Heck, no one had forced her to scream with the pleasure of her orgasm either. It was as if an alien had taken possession of her—one who enjoyed the heck out of sex.

  “I think I’ll go down to breakfast this morning,” Gran said unexpectedly. “I want to hear about the ball.”

  “I’ll help you dress.”

  “There’s a tube of concealer in my dressing table drawer,” Gran said. “Perhaps you should apply some to your neck while I’m taking a shower. You don’t want Elizabeth asking embarrassing questions.”

  No, she did not. Half an hour later, Charlotte had breakfast ready and Gran was seated at the table, eating a bowl of porridge.

  Elizabeth stalked into the kitchen and sat beside her mother. “Coffee.”

  “Elizabeth,” Gran said in a sharp tone. “Charlotte isn’t your maid.”

  Elizabeth yawned and smoothed a hand over her neat blonde bob. “I provide her with a roof over her head and a small wage. The least she can do is make me breakfast on a Saturday morning.”

  Charlotte frowned in Gran’s direction. Mother and daughter couldn’t be more different in temperament and often butted heads. She wasn’t about to get into the middle of one of their arguments. She rose from the table and her dry toast, grabbed a mug and poured coffee for Elizabeth. On hearing the clomp-clomp of footsteps on the stairs, she pulled two more mugs from the cupboard. She ha
nded one to Jenny and the second to Rachel as they sailed past to join their grandmother and mother at the table. All four women were petite and blonde with blue eyes. Jenny and Rachel wore jeans and silky tops to highlight their curves while Elizabeth stuck with classic—black trousers and a feminine blouse in baby pink.

  “What’s for breakfast?” Jenny asked. “I’ve got the munchies.”

  “There’s fruit and cereal or I can make some more porridge,” Charlotte said, praying none of them noticed the love bites. The concealer hadn’t exactly lived up to its name.

  “I’ll have toast,” Rachel said. “Whole wheat.”

  “I’ll have fruit and cereal,” Jenny said.

  Without a word, Charlotte started preparing the requested breakfasts.

  “Did you enjoy the ball?” Gran chirped.

  Charlotte frowned in Gran’s direction, noting the satisfied glitter in her eyes. A secret smile played on Gran’s lips as she studied her granddaughters and daughter. Then she shot a mischievous glance at Charlotte, her granddaughter by marriage.

  “I want details,” Gran said. “The spicier, the better.”

  “I wish they’d had an ordinary ball instead of a costume one,” Jenny said. “It was difficult guessing identities. I don’t want to waste effort playing nice with men who don’t have money.”

  “That’s not a good attitude,” Gran scolded. “When I was a young girl, we accepted dances from everyone who asked us. It was good manners.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Times change, Gran. Women can vote now.”

  “I want the girls to make good marriages,” Elizabeth said. “Money is important.”

  “I don’t want a traditional relationship,” Jenny said. “I want a career plus a rich man. Did I tell you Marlborough Media is looking for a junior designer? They’re starting interviews on Tuesday.”

  “Are you applying?” Rachel asked. “You’d have a good shot since you’re already working there. More coffee, please, Charlotte.”