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Too Hot to Handle
Too Hot to Handle
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This is the final and third book of the Eastman Family and Friend series.
Jenny Eastman wants to me more than another notch on notorious "hit and quit it" Jared Cates. When a group of his ex-squeezes approach her to get even, she's game.
~Excerpt~
Once she’d believed that it wasn’t possible for a man to be all that. A man was a man. They all had the same basic equipment and the same way to get from point A to B in the lovemaking department. But Jared had to be all that and a bag of chips. Thirty-five years old, six feet two, he was muscled and lean with burnished pecan skin and strong, chiseled features, and so good-looking that grandmothers turned their heads to look wistfully after him, remembering younger days. To top it off, he was a doctor, a genuine MD, with smarts, confidence, and a sense of humor. Jared Cates was more than a notion.
The memory of their lovemaking made her moisten her lips. She’d been greedy, greedy, greedy. Jared had filled her up like dark, amber nectar—her silky, sweet-sticky thang. She couldn’t get enough of him.
When she’d left his apartment, she’d been walking on a rainbow-colored cloud of optimistic emotion. Had she found her soul mate? Their connection had been beyond the physical. It had been beautiful, soul-stirring. Perfect passion. She’d regretted the time she’d wasted resisting him. She’d been wrong about him. Didn’t a man who could love so good and hard, who could make her feel so beautiful, have to be more than a low-down dirty dog?
So why hadn’t he called?
Once she’d believed that it wasn’t possible for a man to be all that. A man was a man. They all had the same basic equipment and the same way to get from point A to B in the lovemaking department. But Jared had to be all that and a bag of chips. Thirty-five years old, six feet two, he was muscled and lean with burnished pecan skin and strong, chiseled features, and so good-looking that grandmothers turned their heads to look wistfully after him, remembering younger days. To top it off, he was a doctor, a genuine MD, with smarts, confidence, and a sense of humor. Jared Cates was more than a notion.
The memory of their lovemaking made her moisten her lips. She’d been greedy, greedy, greedy. Jared had filled her up like dark, amber nectar—her silky, sweet-sticky thang. She couldn’t get enough of him.
When she’d left his apartment, she’d been walking on a rainbow-colored cloud of optimistic emotion. Had she found her soul mate? Their connection had been beyond the physical. It had been beautiful, soul-stirring. Perfect passion. She’d regretted the time she’d wasted resisting him. She’d been wrong about him. Didn’t a man who could love so good and hard, who could make her feel so beautiful, have to be more than a low-down dirty dog?
So why hadn’t he called?
Jenny Eastman wants to me more than another notch on notorious "hit and quit it" Jared Cates. When a group of his ex-squeezes approach her to get even, she's game.
~Excerpt~
Once she’d believed that it wasn’t possible for a man to be all that. A man was a man. They all had the same basic equipment and the same way to get from point A to B in the lovemaking department. But Jared had to be all that and a bag of chips. Thirty-five years old, six feet two, he was muscled and lean with burnished pecan skin and strong, chiseled features, and so good-looking that grandmothers turned their heads to look wistfully after him, remembering younger days. To top it off, he was a doctor, a genuine MD, with smarts, confidence, and a sense of humor. Jared Cates was more than a notion.
The memory of their lovemaking made her moisten her lips. She’d been greedy, greedy, greedy. Jared had filled her up like dark, amber nectar—her silky, sweet-sticky thang. She couldn’t get enough of him.
When she’d left his apartment, she’d been walking on a rainbow-colored cloud of optimistic emotion. Had she found her soul mate? Their connection had been beyond the physical. It had been beautiful, soul-stirring. Perfect passion. She’d regretted the time she’d wasted resisting him. She’d been wrong about him. Didn’t a man who could love so good and hard, who could make her feel so beautiful, have to be more than a low-down dirty dog?
So why hadn’t he called?
Once she’d believed that it wasn’t possible for a man to be all that. A man was a man. They all had the same basic equipment and the same way to get from point A to B in the lovemaking department. But Jared had to be all that and a bag of chips. Thirty-five years old, six feet two, he was muscled and lean with burnished pecan skin and strong, chiseled features, and so good-looking that grandmothers turned their heads to look wistfully after him, remembering younger days. To top it off, he was a doctor, a genuine MD, with smarts, confidence, and a sense of humor. Jared Cates was more than a notion.
The memory of their lovemaking made her moisten her lips. She’d been greedy, greedy, greedy. Jared had filled her up like dark, amber nectar—her silky, sweet-sticky thang. She couldn’t get enough of him.
When she’d left his apartment, she’d been walking on a rainbow-colored cloud of optimistic emotion. Had she found her soul mate? Their connection had been beyond the physical. It had been beautiful, soul-stirring. Perfect passion. She’d regretted the time she’d wasted resisting him. She’d been wrong about him. Didn’t a man who could love so good and hard, who could make her feel so beautiful, have to be more than a low-down dirty dog?
So why hadn’t he called?
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