

About Out of Love: Foster Kavanaugh, former Navy SEAL, knows what it’s like to be the top dog, the man in charge, the one calling the shots. Now that he’s running his own security consulting firm, not much has changed. Except the curvy blonde he hired as his office manager. Noelle Davis has been through the damn ringer. Swearing off men after escaping a toxic relationship, she’s grateful for a fresh start—new job included. Of course, her job isn’t tranquil and calm. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Because her boss is the most infuriating man on the planet. And, not to mention, sexy as hell. Foster has limits. Rules. No attachments allowed because he doesn’t do love—and Noelle Davis foiled that plan and took a red pen to his list of rules. With her smart mouth and quick witted banter, he found the woman beginning to creep past his defenses. When circumstances put Noelle in a perilous position, the first person to come to her rescue is none other than Foster Kavanaugh. She gets to see the man in action—not as her aggravating boss, but the man who will stop at nothing to ensure her safety. The same man who makes her want to reconsider her self-imposed embargo of men. The man she wants to get to know now that she’s seen another side of him. The man who makes her want…more. But is more possible when you're OUT OF LOVE? **Out of Love is a full-length, standalone novel that does NOT need to be read in conjunction with any other book. **

EXCERPT:
“Want
to come in?”
There’s
the briefest pause—like he’s caught between surprise and uncertainty—before his
lips curve upward and the look he gives makes my heart skip a beat. Because
it’s a look he’s never given me before.
Although
small, it’s one of those rare, genuine smiles. The one I’ve seen him bestow
upon his sister and mother, but never before on me.
Leaning
in with a sexy smirk, one hand cradling the side of my face, he whispers, “Is
the Pope Catholic?”
“Ah,
we’ve got a comedian on our hands, do we?” I whisper back.
He
gives me a playful swat on the ass. “Unlock the door, woman.” His stern
expression is at odds with the humor lighting up his eyes.
After
unlocking the door and disarming the alarm, he ensures we’re safely inside
before securing the lock on the door, once again. I slide off my wedge heels
onto the doormat, spotting the package he’d brought me earlier. Picking it up,
I walk down the hall to set my keys and purse on the kitchen counter before
tearing open the package. “What is this, by the way?”
When
he comes up behind me, his voice is gravelly and deep. “Just some replacement
items.”
What
spills out of the package isn’t at all what I expect. Because, holy crap.
Foster Kavanaugh had apparently taken it upon himself to buy me replacements
for the bras, panties, and other lingerie Brad had destroyed. And they are
exquisite; far nicer than anything I could ever afford. Or would purchase and
still be able to sleep at night, knowing how much money I’d spent on something
so frivolous.
“Foster,”
I breath out in part wonder and awe. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”
Turning to stare at him, I’m stunned he did this for me.
“It’s
not too much. It’s beautiful.” His eyes dart away and he runs a hand over his
close-cropped hair as if nervous, before finishing with, “like you.”
He
just had to go and say that. Damn it. No wonder he gets all kinds of crazy
action with the ladies. Which spurs on my next question.
Head
tipped to the side, I say, “Do you do this for all of the women you sleep
with?”
His
eyes snap to mine and there’s an array of emotions flickering over his face,
none of them lasting long enough for me to identify. Finally, holding my gaze,
he answers, “I’ve never bought a woman this kind of thing before.”
“Ah.”
I look away, trying to brush off the moment. “So this is a first, then. What?
Did it not go well with the last woman?”
“I
haven’t slept with anyone in well over six months.” My eyes fly to his in
shock, and I see a similar look on his face, as if he’s surprised by disclosing
that, too.
Trying
to play it off, I give a little laugh. “Oh, dear. Are you having some erectile
dysfunction? Trouble getting it up? You should probably see a doctor for that.
You know they make those little, blue pills—”
At
once, I’m crowded against my kitchen counter, his body pressing firmly against
mine before lifting me upon the counter. “Does it feel like I have trouble
getting it up?” He nudges my legs apart to nestle between them, rocking his
hard cock into me right where I ache for him. “Does it feel like I have any
issues?”
“Mmm,”
my response is breathy, and I’m having trouble maintaining composure. “Not too
sure. Think I might have to do a more thorough inspection.”
His
lips curve up before dipping his head to brush his lips against the column of
my neck. “Inspect away, Davis.” His teeth nip at me, and I let out a tiny moan.
“Inspect away.”


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