He puts the “screw” in screwball comedy…

BRYNN

At thirty-four, I’m reeling from a divorce. I don’t want to party or try to move on. I just want to stay home and post a new recipe on my blog: Brynn’s Dips and Balls.

But my friends aren’t having it. Get out there again, they say. It will be fun, they say. I’m still taking a hard pass.

Free designer cocktails, they say. And that’s a game-changer.

Too bad my ex shows up with his new arm candy. That’s when I lose my mind. But when my besties dare me to leap on the first single man I see, they don’t expect me to actually go through with it.

TOM

All I need right now is some peace and quiet while my home renovation TV show is on hiatus. But when a curvy woman in a red wrap dress charges me like she’s a gymnast about to mount my high bar, all I can do is brace myself and catch her. What follows is the hottest experience of my adult life.

I want a repeat, but my flying Cinderella disappears immediately afterward. She doesn’t leave a glass slipper, either—just a pair of panties with chocolate bunnies printed on them.

But I will find her.

Book Type:

Romantic Comedy

Excerpt: Man Hands

I think I’m hyperventilating. Really. My breath comes in rhythmic, soft grunts that are more primal than sexual. It’s the sound of shock. Because my ex’s hand is slowly pulling that girl closer to him, and then that hand goes creeping down her ass.

Worse, the girl is sort of like the photo-shopped version of…me. Our coloring is the same, but she’s taller and thinner and younger. She also glows, probably from buffing. And it’s not fair. It really isn’t! I’d glow too if I did some buffing.

Why the fuck haven’t I been buffing?

The crowd they’re standing with can’t see Steve’s butt-cheek maneuver, but I can see it perfectly. It’s a secret message he’s sending, and I’ve heard the broadcast loud and clear: my ex-husband is fucking a beautiful, thin, younger woman. My ex-husband never laid his hand on my ass like that, never publicly claimed me that way.

My ex-husband didn’t have a problem with his libido. He just had a problem getting freaky with me.

“Uh-oh,” Sadie says. Maybe she sees the tears forming in my eyes about to cascade down my face, or maybe she senses the seismic shift that is happening within me. I’m grunting and I’m vibrating, and not in a good way. Maybe, just possibly, I’m going to self-combust because of pain.

“Ash?” Sadie says with more than a little panic in her voice. “Do something!”

“What’s wrong—” Ash inhales sharply as she sees the spectacle over yonder. “Fuckfuckfuck,” she says. “Quick. Brynn. Take a deep breath. You’re not breathing. Breathe.” She spins me so I’m looking at her. “Do not take your eyes off me, okay? You can get through this. You can dance through this beautifully. And you know how you’re going to do that?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “In a minute, I’m going to release you, and you are going to do something totally out of character. You’re going to do what I tell you to do. Do you hear me? Do you?”

This time it isn’t rhetorical. I grunt in response.

“Sadie, your drink,” Ash snaps.

Sadie swaps her full pineapple for my empty one. “Suck it down,” she orders. And I do. I suck for all my worth. This is liquid courage and, by god, I need it.

I’m staring at Ash like she’s the only thing securing me to earth, and maybe she is. Her voice is calm but authoritative. I have known her for fifteen years, and I trust her with my life. So when she says, “You’re going to do what I tell you to do,” I just nod. I nod because I’m hurt and confused and fucking lonely and lost and oh…wait a minute…that feels nice….I’m a little bit drunk.

Ash squeezes my shoulders. “Okay. When I spin you around, I want you to run and kiss the first guy that makes eye contact.”

I squeak a little.

“Don’t question me right now, bitch! This is serious. You are going to do this or we aren’t friends. You hear me?”

I’m not sure the threats are really all that encouraging, but I don’t care, because listening to her is keeping me from going full-on insane over my ex and his happy fingers.

“And…now!” She grabs the pineapple from my hands and spins me around. Then she slaps my ass. Hard.

And I do it! I charge out of the gate like I’m a possessed stallion at the Kentucky Derby. I don’t even spare a glance toward Steve. I just take off running. I think I’m even screaming. It’s like “Yieyieyieyieyie!” Or something. And I’m running as fast as my sturdy thighs can propel me.

The people around me are a mélange of hipsters and yuppies. Since I’m running, they blur together, becoming yupsters.

Whatever. They don’t matter, because I’d be attracted to whatever a yupster is. They’re probably all vegans and sensitive and I have terrible taste in men. So I go against my natural instincts, and zero in on the guy crouching down in the terraced garden and planting a bush. The gardener! Perfect!

Miraculously he stands up, like I somehow commanded him to. Maybe I did. It’s hard to say because I’m fucking insane right now. One look at him and I know he eats meat. He may be the fucking gardener, but he’s got arms like a linebacker. He’s wearing a baseball cap over a perfectly weathered face.

He’s pushing forty, maybe, and he looks like he’s lived outside under the sun, or has at least visited the outdoors once in a while.

And he just looks…like a man. All six feet whatever inches of him. Our eyes lock and I fucking launch myself at him, like a rocket! I mean, with my weight and the sheer propulsion of my body, a tackle from me should send him flying edge of the terraced gardener and straight into the lake. But the dude catches me. He. Catches. Me. And he squeezes my ass!

Although, to be fair, the ass squeeze might be the only thing keeping me from hurtling over the balcony.

But I don’t analyze it, because I’m already on to the next part of my mission. His lips are full, and I attach mine to them like a barnacle in heat. And then I’m sucking off his face like some possessed vacuum cleaner.

For a moment, I’m the only one sucking. That would have gotten embarrassing pretty fast, but a beat later my gardener gets the memo. His brawny arms lock around my body. He shifts me higher on his body, and my legs naturally wrap around his waist. Like it was meant to be.

And that generous mouth deepens the kiss.

Seriously, it’s better than bacon. Firm lips conquer mine. One of his big hands tightens on my ass, and the other…the other hand goes into my hair and he tugs it a little. Dear god. He was kissing me with more heat than I thought possible outside a movie studio. A manly sound comes from somewhere deep in his chest, and he holds me so close I think we could maybe withstand a tornado. I melt into him, like a good fondue cheese.

And this is why I should never have more than two drinks. Because I almost pee a little.