She gives me a challenging look. “And you’re mine too.”
“Just so.”
And when we come together, hot and messy and slick on top of my desk, surrounded by the library she built and with our baby sleeping upstairs, it’s not the beginning of something incredible—the beginning happened on a drenching night over a year ago. But it’s a confirmation.
A confirmation and a conclusion, and for me being the professor, I have to admit the woman underneath me has taught me more than I ever could have imagined. I couldn’t have planned the lesson better myself, although as we start kissing and grinding our way to a second round, I decide there’s no way I can ever admit that to her.
I am the professor in this house, after all.
Acknowledgments
Firstly, thanks go to my beautiful and tireless agent, Rebecca Friedman, whose confidence in my writing is unwavering (and probably undeserved, but I’m taking it anyway!).
To my editor, Scott Saunders, for his sharp eye and flawless observations, and to the rest of the Waterhouse team: Meredith Wild, Robyn Lee, Jennifer Becker, David Grishman, Yvonne Ellis, Haley Byrd, Kurt Vachon, Jonathan Mac, and Jesse Kench. And my undying thanks to Amber Maxwell for a staggeringly good cover!
To Ashley Lindemann, Serena McDonald, Candi Kane, and Melissa Gaston for their help and support with all the back-of-the-house work that comes along with writing a book. To Laurelin Paige, Melanie Harlow, and Kayti McGee, as well as Julie Murphy, Natalie Parker, Tess Gratton, Nana Malone, Sarah MacLean, Carrie Ryan, Jana Aston, and Becca Mysoor—along with everyone else at the Orange Beach and Kiawah retreats for all the support and laughter (and occasionally liquor). And huge and grateful thanks to Karen Cundy, who made sure Oliver sounded more Cambridge than Kansas.
To Doug Hagen, Eddy Bisceglia, Dana Hagen, Kay Hagen, Sandra Whitman, Ed Wells, Lizzie Hagen, and Kathie and Milt Taylor for supporting the brooding author in their lives. And to Josh Taylor, who has to support her most of all.
And lastly to my readers. Thank you for going on yet another dirty, fun journey with me!
Don’t miss any Misadventures!
Misadventures on the Rebound
Available November 20, 2018
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Excerpt from Misadventures on the Rebound
The sexy dude entering the bar looks to be in his mid-twenties. He’s holding a motorcycle helmet in one hand and a dark backpack in the other. He’s got sandy hair, a chiseled jaw, and light eyes framed by bold eyebrows. His extremely fit body is clothed in a dark leather jacket, worn jeans, and a blue T-shirt that matches his stunning eyes. In short, he’s perfect.
My heart thumping, I turn back around and take a long gulp of my drink and, a few seconds later, Mr. Perfect bellies up to the bar to my right.
The air between us fills with the delicious scents of him: leather, faint aftershave, and the great outdoors. He places his helmet atop the bar and his backpack on the ground and greets the bartender in a low, masculine voice. “Hey, man.”
“What’ll it be?” Cal replies, placing a cocktail napkin in front of the guy.
“Whatever will get me shitfaced and stupid in short order,” comes Mr. Perfect’s perfect reply.
“Great minds think alike,” I murmur.
“Huh?”
I clear my throat. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t initiate contact with a stranger in a bar, especially not a stranger who looks like this guy. But, today, normal rules don’t apply, apparently. Today, I’m all out of fucks to give. “I said, ‘Great minds think alike.’ Meaning my plan is to get shitfaced and stupid in short order, too.” I raise my drink. “Indeed, I’m well on my way. This is my second drink, and I’m a lightweight, especially after eight months of not drinking.”
“Well, damn. As long as we’re both getting shitfaced and stupid tonight, we should probably do it together, don’t you think? Drinking is a lot like sex. You can do it alone, but it’s a whole lot more fun with a partner.”
I can’t help returning his wicked smile. I motion to the stool next to me. “Please.”
“Thanks.” He settles himself and the delicious scents attached to him intensify. “So what are you drinking?” he asks.
“Whiskey sours,” I say. “But, actually, I’m imbibing, not drinking. Because drinking is sad.” I make a sad face. “But imbibing is fun.” I make a happy face that makes him chuckle. “Actually, no, that was a lie,” I say. “I’m not imbibing. I’m most definitely drinking. Drowning my sorrows, in fact. I’ve had a horribly shitty day, and I’m numbing the pain.”
“Sorry to hear that. Is the whiskey doing the trick?”
I slap my face. “So far, so good.”
“Perfect.” He motions to Cal. “I’ll have whatever the fuck this gorgeous woman is having. And add her drinks to my tab. A woman this beautiful, especially one having a horribly shitty day, can’t pay for her own drinks. Not on my watch, anyway.”
Every cell in my body spazzes out, all at once. “Thank you,” I say, my cheeks blooming. “I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” He leans toward me. “I’m not doing it simply to be nice. I’m trying to seduce you after having a horribly shitty day myself.”
“Oh. Wow. Thanks for letting me know.”
He winks. “Sure thing.”
The bartender slides a drink in front of Mr. Perfect, and he raises it to me. “Cheers,” he says. “To getting shitfaced and stupid and numbing the pain.”
“Cheers to that.” I clink his glass. “Although I hope you’re not planning to get too shitfaced and stupid. I’m quite certain Uber doesn’t pick up out here in 1982, and I’d hate to see that thing turn into a brain bucket on you.” I motion to his helmet on the bar.
“Thanks for your concern, but I won’t be driving anywhere tonight, unfortunately. Hence, my horribly shitty day. My bike crapped out on me a couple miles back, and I had to push it until I came upon the garage across the street. As it turns out, they had to order a part, which means I’m stranded for at least a couple days.”
I grimace sympathetically.
“And that was just the tip of the iceberg of my horribly shitty day,” he adds. He exhales. “So I’ve decided to get shitfaced and stupid, crash at the motel tonight, and figure out my game plan tomorrow morning.”
“Great minds think alike again,” I say. “That’s my exact itinerary, as well. I’ve already booked my room at the motel.”
“You’re one step ahead of me there. I came straight to this bar after the garage. But don’t worry about me. I promise I’ll be crashing at the motel tonight.” He flashes me a wicked smile and winks. “One way or another.”
Holy crap. Did this sexy man just call his shot? Did he just imply he’ll be sleeping with me in my room tonight? By George, I think he did. “So where were you headed when your bike broke down?” I ask.
“Vegas. What about you? Unless, of course, this place was your final destination.”
“No, I stumbled upon this place by chance. I’m actually headed to Vegas, too. I grew up there, and my five-year high school reunion is this Saturday night.”
I wait. Surely, he’s going to try to bum a ride to Vegas from me now. And what will I say? It’d be no inconvenience for me to take him. And I’d thoroughly enjoy glancing over at him for three solid hours during the drive. And yet, on the other hand, I think I’ve seen this particular after-school special…and it didn’t end well for the female driver who picked up a handsome stranger.
But, nope. Much to my surprise, he doesn’t broach the subject. Instead, he takes a long sip of his drink and mutters, “If that’s your second drink, then I’ve got some catching up to do.”
I return his smirk. “If you want to keep up with me, then you’d better make your next drink a double.” I throw back the rest of my drink and place my empty onto
the bar next to his. “I’m not fucking around today. I’m done fucking around.”
His eyes blaze. “Damn.” He chuckles. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but that was sexy as fuck.”
I grin. “I don’t mind you saying it at all.”
“Good. Because it was.” He motions to the bartender. “Hey, Cal. Another round. And on the recommendation of this sexy-as-fuck woman, you’d better make mine a double.”
I can’t breathe. My heart is medically palpitating. This is the most electrifying interaction with a man I’ve ever had in my life. I lean into his broad shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I think you’re sexy as fuck, too.”
“I don’t mind you saying that at all. In fact, I’m thrilled to know the attraction is mutual.” He sticks out his hand. “I’m Aiden, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
I take his hand, and electricity zings and zaps across my flesh at the point of contact. “Savvy,” I say. “But don’t let the name fool you.”
Aiden cocks his head to the side. “So does that mean your name is Savvy, but you’re not savvy?”
I giggle. “Correct. My full name is Savannah. Savannah Valentine. But I’ve always been called Savvy. And that’s just a ridiculous nickname for me because I’m the least savvy person you’ll ever meet. I’ve got book smarts for days. But street smarts? Not so much.”
“Sounds like we’re a perfect match. I’ve got street smarts for days, but book smarts? Not so much.”
“Wow. I’d totally pick you for my zombie apocalypse team, Aiden.”
“I’m honored. Thanks. And I’d pick you.”
“Thank you.”
Aiden chuckles and leans his forearms on the bar. “So, tell me, Savvy Who Isn’t Savvy, why’s a smart, funny, pretty girl like you sitting in a bar in the middle of nowhere on a Wednesday afternoon, drowning your sorrows?”
Surprised, I look down at my ruby ring, my cheeks flushing.
Aiden adds quickly, “Unless, of course, you don’t feel comfortable talking about it.”
I look up. Aiden’s eyes are warm and comforting and gorgeously blue. He’s truly magnificent to behold. “No, I…I actually want to babble about what happened today. You just surprised me, that’s all. The way you looked so genuinely interested and…compassionate.”
He smiles and my heart flutters.
“Do you want the short or long version of my story?”
“Long, of course. I’ve got nowhere to go, remember? Tell me everything.”
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Continue Reading Misadventures on the Rebound
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About Sierra Simone
Sierra Simone is a USA Today bestselling former librarian who spent too much time reading romance novels at the information desk. She lives with her husband, kids, and two big dogs in Kansas City.
For more information, please follow Sierra Simone at:
www.TheSierraSimone.com
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