Summer is a great time to read. It's notorious for flings and for romance. But sometimes, when summer ends, the heartache begins...
They closed Quinn’s, playing pool, knocking balls into corner and side pockets. They talked, like they’d known each other their whole lives. When he was near enough to her, her breath shortened and her heart pounded.
The small cove at the back of the bar seemed to have been made for couples, tucked in the corner, no view of the seating area. David’s grin held charm—she’d forgotten—and he turned to sink the eight ball.
Her eyes drank in the sight of his butt. Clearing her throat, she quickly looked away as he turned back to her. “Game.”
She lifted her brow at him.
The pulse in her neck made her lightheaded. She couldn’t look away.
Maria stepped up to him and placed her hands on his waist. Was he the winner?
Call her crazy but…
She rose to her toes and placed her lips against his. He gently accepted, and his hand cupped the side of her neck. His thumb came to rest at the pulse point. Her ache grew, and she gripped his shirt, wanting more, wanting—his tongue claimed her mouth—yes.
…she was pretty sure she was the one who’d won.