Kiss Me Twice by Lauren Hawkeye
(Three Little Words #3)
Publication date: TBD
Genres: New Adult, Romance
The sequel to the New York Times bestselling Three Little Words… a steamy new adult rock star romance!
(love story, new adult romance, contemporary romance, alpha males, heroes, sexy romance, bad boys, falling in love, college)
Can three people have a happy ever after in a world that runs two by two?
After two years of hiding, Adele Cavanaugh has finally found happiness with her first love, serious law student Malachi Hunter… and with sexy Australian rocker Dorian Marshall, the lead singer of the band Three Little Words.
But the universe doesn’t seem to want Adele to be happy. Just when she thinks she can finally be free, the demons from her past make a devastating reappearance… and so does Malachi’s ex-girlfriend. Combined with an opportunity for the band that will take Dorian away from her, Adele wonders if she has been fooling herself all along.
Will Adele find the strength to let love win, even when it comes in a non-traditional form?
The third book in the Three Little Words series, Kiss Me Twice is a steamy New Adult romance that explores the love between two men who would rather share their woman than let her go. Two years ago Adele’s world fell to pieces… this books asks if she’s strong enough to put herself back together again.
See where it all began - grab a copy of
Three Little Words today!!
EXCERPT
The
massive late afternoon line of customers suffering from caffeine withdrawal
finally ended.
“Is
there a government imposed ration on coffee that I don’t know about?” I asked
my co-worker as I untied the apron that was splattered with coffee and
frosting. We always got a late afternoon rush at Java the Hut, the coffee shop
where I worked full time, but today’s had been bordering on ridiculous. It was
twenty minutes past the end of my shift. It was a good thing I hadn’t had
plans, cause no way could I have left Meg alone with the thirsting hordes.
“Whatcha
up to tonight, pretty girl?” Meg smiled at me as she set the machines to
brewing—our dispensers all needed to be refilled after the rush.
“Roller
derby practice.” I finger combed my hair before tying it back with an elastic
that I kept in the pocket of my apron. I knew from experience that it wasn’t
much of an improvement, looks wise, but at least it was off my face.
“Wanna
grab dinner after?” Meg’s voice was casual, with a hint of flirtation. I
studied her for a long moment as I zipped my hoodie all the way up to my chin.
Tall
and pleasantly plump, my fellow barista looked like the former southern beauty
queen that she was, all big hair and boobs and shiny teeth. On her first day at
the shop she’d announced out of nowhere that she was a lesbian and too bad if I
had a problem with that.
I
had blinked in surprise, but only because of the way she’d just thrown the info
out there. I could have cared less if she dated men, women, or dogs, and when
I’d told her as much she’d laughed that deep throaty laugh of hers and patted
me on the ass in a way that didn’t offend me at all.
“We’re
gonna get along just fine, sugar.” She’d said, and we did, even though she
never stopped asking me out.
Apart
from a few dinners, I mostly refused. Hell, maybe I’d take her up on it one
day, but as of right now I didn’t date anyone, not women, and certainly not
men.
I
wasn’t sure that I ever would again.
“You
don’t want to go for dinner with me after practice. I’ll be sweaty and stinky
and ready for bed.” I realized that I’d set myself up as soon as the words left
my mouth, and was already laughing by the time Meg wiggled her eyebrows at me
lasciviously.
“The
ready for bed part sounds real good, sweetie pie.” She blew a kiss at me as I
laughingly swatted her away, tossing my apron into the laundry bin and swinging
my purse up and onto my shoulder.
“See
you tomorrow, Meg.” I grinned at her as I pushed my way out of the steamy,
cinnamon scented interior of Java the Hut and into the uncharacteristically
crisp air of early fall. I snuggled down deeper into my hoodie as I began to
walk in the direction of my condo, wishing I’d had the forethought to bring my
woolly mittens with me that morning.
The
chilly air burned the inside of my nose as I walked, my thoughts back on the
crazy busy shift I’d just left. I was a self-admitted loner and so wasn’t sure
where the urge came from, but I thought about turning back to the shop and
taking Meg up on her invite, though just as friends.
It
was probably time to start getting out, start trying to get some semblance of a
normal life back. The problem was that I so rarely had the urge. The coffee
shop, roller derby, my condo—they were all safe.
It
took a lot for me to venture outside of my comfort zone these days.
“Just
do it, Adele. One dinner. You’ve done it before.” My steps slowed as I turned
back around—my mind wanted company, but my body wasn’t so sure. Out of habit I
looked across the street, at the apartment building I’d lived in a few years
earlier. The one I’d fled from when my life had turned upside down.
A
young man stood on the frosted grass in front of the ancient brick, breaking
down cardboard boxes, only a T-shirt standing between him and the chill.
Something
about that body… about the tilt of his head was achingly familiar.
I
did a double take.
“What
the fuck?” Meg forgotten, my feet froze in place and I stared, my heart going
from zero to sixty in the time it took to suck in a strangled mouthful of air.
He
was a fraction taller than he’d been last time I’d seen him, and the long, lean
muscles I’d once known were thicker, looked harder. His dark hair was a bit
longer, like he just didn’t have the time or inclination to keep it short and
neat.
And
it was a different pair of glasses perched on his nose, some classic wire rims
instead of the preppy RayBans he’d once sported.
But
my body remembered, and unfortunately, so did my heart.
It
was Malachi Hunter. Malachi Hunter, the only guy who’d ever broken my heart.
“Holy
shit.” An embarrassing squeaking sound echoed out of my mouth, cutting through
the thin, cold air, and then I felt those eyes that I’d once loved to just look
into lock onto me.
I
couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.
His
head cocked to the side, his eyes narrowing like he was trying to place me. A
pang of hurt twined with irritation bolted through my gut, followed by the more
rational reasoning of my mind.
It
had been over two years since I’d laid eyes on him. He looked different, and I
knew that I did, too.
My
hair was no longer the neon red I’d once kept it—I’d let it go back to its
natural reddish blonde. I didn’t let it fall in a wild mass of waves anymore,
either, instead preferring to keep it off my face in a ponytail or a bun.
Gone
too was the thick charcoal eye makeup, the bright red lipstick. I hardly wore
makeup at all anymore, not even to derby matches—I didn’t like to be noticed.
And
my most telling feature, my tattoos, were hidden as they always were now beneath
my long sleeves.
Still
I held my breath, unable to do anything but hold our stare and wait.
Would
he recognize me?
“Adele?”
The voice called out across the street, a shade deeper than I remembered,
though just as capable of making me shiver. I held still like a terrified deer
as the guy I’d once known melded with the man in front of me, the two becoming
one as he tossed the cardboard aside and loped across the street.
I
cleared my throat, emotions that I’d thought long buried roaring to the surface
like they’d never been gone.
“Hi,
Mal.” Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t the big, open, still freaking sexy
smile or the excited look in his eyes.
It
wasn’t the bone crushing hug that he pulled me into, either. But instead of
tensing, poised for escape like I’d done any time someone touched me in the
last two years, a not entirely comfortable discovery slapped me right in the
face.
It
was impossible to turn back time. I of all people knew that, because I’d once
gone to a casual frat party looking for this very man, dying to fix what was
broken between us, and instead had been violated, shamed, and run out of town.
I wanted to scream at Mal as much as I wanted to hug him, to ask him why he’d
called but never come knocking at my door in the days after I’d walked out on
him.
I
did none of these things. Instead, surprised at myself, I settled into hug and
contemplated the fact that Mal’s arms still felt like home.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lauren Hawkeye/ Lauren Jameson is a writer, yoga newbie, knitting aficionado and animal lover who lives in the shadows of the great Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada. She's older than she looks--really--and younger than she feels--most of the time--and she loves to explore the journeys that take women through life in her stories. Hawkeye's stories include erotic historical, steamy paranormal, and hot contemporary. Make sure to check out her work as Lauren Jameson, where her erotic romances take a walk on the wild side.
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