Delilah Northcutt has been described as weird, nerdy. But her favorite term is quirky. The eccentric flower shop owner definitely marches to the beat of her own drum. On the rebound from a cheating ex, she’s not looking to open her heart to someone else any time soon. On a whim, her best friend convinces her that one night with a stranger she’ll never see again is just what she needs to pull herself out of the funk she’s been living in.
Overly serious, workaholic Richard Locklaine was always described as the twin determined to do the right thing. Even if it was at the cost of his own well-being. But after years in a loveless, manipulative marriage, he’s finally free and ready to build a life of his choosing. And nowhere in that life is there room for another woman—unless it’s for just one night, of course.
They are complete opposites in every single way. But for some reason, fate has decided to force the two of them together. Despite the chemistry, they’re determined to fight the attraction growing between them. Besides, what could a florist with horrible taste in music and an attorney from Connecticut ever really have in common? Only one thing is certain. When they finally come together, it’s going to be epic.
***This is Book 2 in the Locklaine Boys series, a spin-off of Love Hate Relationship. They are interconnected standalones.***
What the hell was I doing?
As I scanned the dimly lit club, packed full of gyrating bodies that reeked of cheap cologne and too much perfume, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was actually stuck in the seventh circle of hell. Sweat was running into cracks and crevices I didn’t want to think about, and my eyes itched something fierce.
“Stop that!” my best friend Devon reached over and smacked my hand away from my eye.
“Will you quit hitting me?”
“Then quit digging at your eyeballs like you’re trying to pop them out!” she snapped before picking the shot glass up off the table and slamming the tequila down like a seasoned pro.
“I can’t help it,” I whined. “These contacts are driving me crazy! I don’t understand why I couldn’t have just worn my glasses.”
Devon braced her hands on the table and focused on me. “Because,” she spoke firmly, despite the copious amounts of booze we’d been ingesting for the past hours. “The goal for tonight is sinfully sexy, not adorably quirky.”
“But—” I began to argue, only to have her continue like I hadn’t said anything.
“And while there are men out there who can appreciate the day-to-day Delilah in all her cute glory, the purpose of tonight is to find a hot, well-hung man to clean your pipes and get your mind off that stupid bastard with hours and hours of meaningless sex. And the sad fact is, one-night stands just don’t go for adorable.”
My nose scrunched up at her remark. “Sweet Jesus, Devon. I’ll give you twenty bucks to stop referring to my lady bits as pipes. Every time you say it, I feel like I should call a plumber or something.” I reached over and snatched a shot glass off the table and downed it.
She hummed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe you should. Lord knows your douche-bag ex wasn’t giving it to you good enough.”
“That’s not tr—” I began to argue, only to have her shoot me a look that said, “Keep lying to me. I dare you.” “Okay, so it’s true,” I finally relented.
Devon nodded satisfactorily. “That’s why I posted all over social media that he suffered from ED.”
My eyes went wide, my mouth hanging open. “You didn’t!”
“Sure the hell did!” she shouted proudly. “And I regret nothing. That shit-for-brains deserves so much worse for what he did to you. Now,” she pushed another shot glass in front of me, “drink up like a good little girl, and let’s find you a man you won’t have to ask, ‘Is it in yet?’”