A runaway groom. A cautious neighbor. Too many sexually fueled run-ins to speak of.
Wanted Wed or Alive, an all-new laugh-out-loud romantic comedy from USA Today bestselling author Willow Aster and Laura Pavlov, is available now!
Excerpt
I stop in mid-word, seeing a sight from heaven. She’s standing near the elevator, suitcases surrounding her, along with a huge case that looks almost as tall as she is. Her lips are beguiling, and her light brown eyes stand out against her olive skin. Long brown hair hooks over her breast like a comma taking a breath before continuing the sentence. I struggle to not let my eyes trail down the rest of her. I know I wouldn’t be disappointed, further proof that the last thing I needed to do was get married this weekend. I never cheated on Tiffany. Never even flirted with another girl while we were together, but damn if I don’t want to get to know this beautiful woman the second I’m free.
I’m simultaneously ashamed of myself and dancing on the inside.
Gus looks at me and smirks. We stand at the same height and his blue eyes are filled with mischief. He’s always been able to see right through me. He points behind him, already backing up. “I’ll run get us some coffee. Meet you in a few.”He hands me the key and I turn to the girl.
“Need some help?” I ask.
“I’ve got it.” She eyes my duffel bag. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full anyway.”
“That’s what he sai—” I stop when her eyes cut to mine. It’s obvious she is not in the mood for humor. “This? Nah.” The elevator dings and I hold it open for her. “At least let me help you get this inside.”
She nods and I move the suitcases in the elevator before she can change her mind.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
The door closes and we’re squeezed together. The space is tight as it’s a typical New York elevator. I can tell she’s uncomfortable. I am too for many reasons, but she’s the best kind of distraction. Her eyes skirt over everything but me.
I hold out my hand, barely able to get it fully extended between the two of us. “Jesse Taylor.”
“Mya Whitfield.” Her long eyelashes cast a shadow against her cheek as she looks down and then takes my hand in hers.
I feel the heat down to my bones and she must too because she pulls her hand away as if it’s on fire. It’s hard not to stare at her.
I should listen to my gut from here on out. Starting with asking for her number.
Scratch that.
Too soon.
Big mistake.
What the hell am I thinking?
I don’t ask for her number. We ride the rest of the way in silence and when we reach the eighth floor and the door opens, she starts pulling her things out. I pick up two suitcases and she points to the floor.
“Just set them right there, I can get it the rest of the way.”
“I don’t mind—”
“No, I appreciate it, but I’ve got it from here.” Damn, she’s gorgeous. She gives me a fleeting glance and the tiniest smile, but my heart speeds up like she’s just granted me blowjobs for life.
It’s official.
I am a sick bastard.
I try for a kind smile instead of the pervy one I’m feeling and watch her walk away. I take in the view.
Sweet Jesus.
The brothers are waiting for me inside my apartment on the floor below and I put Mya out of my mind. I don’t need to jump into anything new right now; besides, Mya looks like a forever kind of girl and I’ve just bailed on forever.
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