Excerpt:
COCKY
BASTARD
I wondered if the
vibration would feel good between my legs.
The sun caught the
chrome of a Harley Davidson parked a few spots over, gleaming in the sweltering
midday sun. I waited until Maroon Five
finished playing on the radio, oddly fixated on the two-wheeled-man-toy as I
fished in my purse for my cell phone.
The motorcycle was simple—high gloss black and shiny silver, worn
leather saddlebags with a skull embossed below the initials C.B.
How good would it
feel to ride? Wind blowing through my
long hair, arms wrapped around a man with a tough sounding nickname, engine
purring beneath my jean clad thighs.
Horse? Drifter? Guns?
Wait. No. Pres.
My imaginary biker was most definitely called Pres. And he’d look just like Charlie Hunnam.
I glanced down at my
iPhone and found a half dozen new messages from Harrison. Inwardly, I smirked. Certainly, there is no one named Harrison
that ever rode a Harley. Tossing my phone back in my bag, I cut the engine of
my packed BMW and glanced behind me into the backseat. Boxes piled to the ceiling were beginning to
make my full-size car feel claustrophobic.
A bus full of
travelers pulled into the rest stop. Great. I’d better go in now and get my
lunch, otherwise I’d never get out of here. Ten hours into a cross-country trip
from Chicago to Temecula, California, I was somewhere in the middle of Nebraska
with about another twenty some odd hours to go.
After a
fifteen-minute wait inside for Pepsi and Popeyes fried chicken bites that I
planned to eat back in the car, I stopped into the small souvenir shop. I was so tired and didn’t really feel like
driving the additional five hours I had to go before finding a place to sleep
for the night. Yawning, I decided to stall and browse for a few minutes. Checking out some trinkets, I eventually
picked up a Barack Obama bobblehead and shook it mindlessly, watching its
maniacal smile as the head bounced up and down.
“Get it. You know you
want it,” a deep, raspy voice said from behind my shoulders. Startling me, it
caused a knee-jerk reaction that resulted in the bobblehead slipping from my
fingers and falling to the ground. The head broke off of the spring neck and rolled
away.
The woman at the
register shouted, “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ll have to pay for that. Twenty
dollars.”
“Damn it!” I spewed,
following the path of the rolling head. As I bent down to pick it up, there was
the voice again from behind me.
“And to think, some
people say he’s got a good head on his shoulders.” He seemed to have an
Australian accent.
“You think this is
funny, asshole?” I asked before turning around and getting my first look at the
man behind the voice.
I froze.
Oh. Shit.
“You don’t need to be
a fucking bitch about it.” His mouth curved into a wicked grin as he handed me
the bottom half of Obama. “And for the record, I did think that was really
funny, yes.”
I swallowed and
seemed to lose my ability to speak as I took in the Adonis standing before me.
I wanted to smack that cocky smile right off his face, though—his gorgeous,
chiseled, scruffy face, framed by a thick head of copper-brown hair. Fuck me.
This man was insanely hot, not someone I expected to come across out here. This
was the middle of nowhere USA, not the Australian outback for Christ’s sake.
I cleared my throat.
“Well, I didn’t think it was funny at all.”
“Then, you need to
take the stick out of your arse and lighten up.” He reached out his hand. “Give
it to me, Princess. I’ll pay for the damn thing.” Before I could respond, he
grabbed the two broken pieces from me, and I cursed at the shiver that ran down
my spine from the brief contact of his hand brushing against mine. Of course,
he had to smell amazing on top of it all.
I followed him to the
register as I fished through my messy purse for money, but he was too quick and
had paid for it already.
He handed me a
plastic bag containing the broken bobblehead. “There’s some change in the bag.
Buy yourself a sense of humor.”
HUE-MA. That accent.
My jaw dropped as he
walked away and out of the store.
What an ass.
It was. A fine one. A
thick, juicy, round ass hugged tightly by his jeans. God, I really needed to
get laid, because it didn’t seem to matter that this guy had just insulted me
to my face; my panties were practically wet.
After several minutes
of staring into space at a shelf of Nebraska Cornhuskers t-shirts, I gave
myself a mental kick in the butt. My reaction to the incident proved that
fatigue had gotten the best of me; I wasn’t usually that short-tempered. It was
time to shake off the bizarre encounter and get moving. My stomach was
growling, and I was looking forward to breaking into the fried chicken once I
hit the road. I snuck a piece out of the box in my bag as I walked out of the
building. My chewing ceased when I noticed him two spots down from my
car—sitting on the very motorcycle I’d been fantasizing about earlier.
Approaching slowly, I
hoped he didn’t notice me. No such luck. Instead, when he spotted me, he
flashed an exaggerated smile and waved.
Frantically searching
for my keys, I rolled my eyes and muttered, “You again.”
He snickered. “Did
you end up buying a sense of humor?”
“I used the change to
buy you some couth instead.”
Chuckling, he shook
his head at me. Running his hand through
his hair, he put his shiny black helmet on and cranked the Harley. The rumble
shook me to my core.
Getting in the car
and slamming the door, I couldn’t help taking one last look over at him, seeing
as though I’d never see this guy again in my lifetime. He winked through the
helmet, and my pathetic heart fluttered.
I watched through the
rear view mirror as he backed out of the spot. I expected him to take off like
a bat out of hell, but after moving away slowly, he abruptly stopped. He kept
trying to rev the bike to get it to move, but nothing was happening. Eventually
turning off the engine, he removed his helmet and ran his hand through his hair
in frustration before getting off to inspect things. I should have just left,
but couldn’t take my eyes off him as he struggled to get it to run. Man, that sucks.
I dipped one of the
chicken bites into the honey mustard sauce and popped it into my mouth,
continuing to watch this like a spectator sport for several minutes. At one
point, he took out his phone and made a phone call as he paced back and forth.
Putting his phone
away, he looked in my direction and glared at me. Caught in the act of watching
him, I let out a nervous laugh. I didn’t mean to laugh at the situation, but it
just came out. He raised his brow, and that made me cackle harder. He slowly walked
toward me, clutching the helmet by his side. He knocked on my window, and I
lowered it.
“You think this is
funny, Princess?”
“Not really…maybe.” I
snorted.
“Well, I’m glad you
finally managed to find your sense of humor.”
HUE-MA.
God, his accent was
sexy.
He arched his neck to
look into the backseat and took notice of all the boxes. “You homeless or
something? Living out of your car?”
“No. I’m in the
middle of a cross-country move.”
“Where you headed?”
“Temecula.”
“California.” He
nodded. “Me, too.”
I looked toward his
Harley. “Well, it looks like you’re not exactly headed anywhere anytime soon. I
guess it’s payback for calling me a bitch.”
“Well, that would
seem to be the case.”
“That it’s payback?”
“No, that you’re a
bitch.”
“Very funny.”
“You know what’s even
better than payback?” he asked leaning into the window, his cologne
intoxicating me.
“What?”
He wiggled his brows.
“Karma.”
“What are you talking
about?”
“Come around and have
a look at the back of your Beemer.”
BEE-MA.
I got out and walked
around to the back of my car to find my right rear tire was completely flat.
What? This cannot be
happening.
With my hand on my
forehead, I looked over at his smug expression. “Are you kidding me? Did you
know my tire was flat all this time?”
“I noticed it right
around the time I caught you popping chicken and laughing at me, yes. It was
real hard for me to keep a straight face at that point.”
I didn’t know how to
change a tire to save my life. I couldn’t believe what I was about to ask of
him.
“Do you know how to
change a tire?”
“Of course I do. What
kind of a man would I be if I didn’t know how to change a tire?”
“Will you help me? I
know you have no reason to want to…after our little altercation, but I’m
seriously desperate. I don’t want to be stuck out here all alone at night.”
“Let me ask you a
question.”
“Okay…”
He rubbed the scruff
on his chin. “How badly do you want your tire changed?”
I backed away from
him. “What exactly are you getting at?”
“Get your mind out of
the gutter, sweetheart. I’m not fucking propositioning you if that’s what you
think. You’re not my type.”
“And what exactly is
your type?”
“I typically go for
women who don’t have the personality of a door knob.”
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
“So, what are your
conditions?”
“Well, as you clearly
know from your laughing fit, my Harley is experiencing a technical malfunction
at the moment. It needs a part that I don’t have. I just called a tow company.
But I’m on a deadline, and like you, I need to get to California.”
“You’re not
suggesting…”
“Yes. Yes, I am. If I
change your tire, you let me ride with you.”
“Ride with me?”
“Ride me, yes.”
“What did you just
say?”
“You’re hearing
things.”
I shook my head to
rid the images now flashing through it. Did my tired mind only imagine that he
just said that, or was he messing with me?
“I cannot drive
hundreds of miles with a total stranger,” I said.
“It’s a fuck of a lot
safer than driving alone.”
“Not if you’re a
serial killer!”
“Look who’s talking.
You’re the one who decapitated a U.S. president.”
I couldn’t help but
laugh. This situation was seriously insane.
“Holy shit, Princess,
is that a laugh at your own expense, I see?”
“I think you’re
making me delirious.”
He stuck out his
hand. “So, you in?”
I crossed my arms
instead of taking it. “What choice do I have?”
“Well, you could
always have him change your tire.” He gestured to a large and scary-looking man
who seemed to be watching us. This guy looked like Herman Munster in the flesh.
Letting out a deep
breath, I conceded. “I’m in. I’m in! Just get me out of here.”
“I thought you might
say that. Please tell me you have a spare.”
“Yeah. But I have to
move some of my boxes so you can get to it.”
He started to crack
up when he got a load of the situation inside my trunk. “Damn, what the hell is
all this crap?”
I looked into his
eyes and answered honestly, “My entire life.”
I temporarily piled
the contents of the trunk onto the pavement. He got the spare out and
immediately got to work.
As he was changing
the tire, his white t-shirt rode up, exposing his tanned, rock-hard abs and a
thin trail of hair that ran into his underwear line. Unwanted tension built
between my legs. I needed a distraction, so I walked over to his bike and sat
on it, gripping the handles and imagining what it would be like to ride in the
wind. But all I could envision now was him in front of me, and that wasn’t
helping.
He slid his body from
under my car. “Be careful, little girl. That’s not a toy.”
I hopped off and ran
my finger along the letters emblazoned on the saddlebags. “What’s C.B. stand
for anyway?”
“Those are my
initials.”
“Let me guess…Cocky
Bastard?”
“See…I would have
told you my name, but since you’re so clever, I think I’ll just let you guess.”
“Whatever, Cocky.”
He lay back down on
the ground. “I’m just tightening up these nuts, and we’ll be ready to go.”
“Nuts?”
“Lug nuts…on the wheel,
dirty girl.”
“Oh.”
Hopping up, he lifted
his shirt and used it to wipe his forehead. “All set.”
Damn.
“That was quick. Are
you sure it’s on right?”
“I’ve got a few
screws loose, darling, as you’ll soon find out, but none of them are on your
wheel.” He winked and for the first time, I noticed his dimples. “We should
probably stop tomorrow and get a new tire put on. This spare is really not
meant for long term use.”
Tomorrow. Wow. This
was really happening.
“We should get
going,” I said. “I’ll drive. I need to be in control of this situation.”
“Whatever you want,”
he said.
I could feel the
tension in my neck as I backed out of the spot. This was going to be very
interesting to say the least. He wasted no time digging into my chicken bites.
I playfully slapped
his hand. “Hey, lay off my food.”
“Honey mustard? I
prefer barbecue.” He licked his thumb, and I swore at myself for getting turned
on a little. This was going to be a long ride.
He smirked and lifted
the plastic bag from the souvenir shop. “Did you even open it?”
“No. What’s the
point? It’s just a broken bobblehead.”
Handing it to me, he
said, “Is it?”
With one hand on the
steering wheel, I took out the bobblehead which was…in one piece.
“What the…how did
you?”
“You seemed to like
it, so I paid for the other and bought you a different one. You were too busy
looking through your purse to notice.”
I couldn’t help but
smile and shook my head.
“Well, whaddya know.
A genuine smile.” He held out his hand. “Here…gimme.” When, I handed it to him,
he took an adhesive strip off the bottom and stuck it to the dash. Obama’s head
was now bopping up and down with every movement of the car.
I broke out in
laughter at the ridiculousness but also couldn’t help the warm feeling that
came over me with that sweet gesture. Maybe he wasn’t really a bastard at all.
We were quiet for a
while as he lay his head back and shut his eyes. Somewhere along I-76 after the
sun set into a bright orange glow that illuminated the horizon in the distance,
he turned to me.
His voice was groggy.
“I’m Chance.”
After several seconds
of silence, I said, “Aubrey.”
“Aubrey,” he repeated
in a breathy whisper, seeming to contemplate my name before closing his eyes
again and turning his head away.
Available Now!!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1DW9XpB
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COCKY BASTARD
(A Contemporary
Romance standalone novel)
New York Times
& USA Today Bestselling Authors
Penelope Ward
& Vi Keeland
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& Vi’s mailing list now and be the first one notified of releases!
Blurb
He was someone who
belonged in my wildest fantasies instead of a rest stop in the middle of
Nebraska.
A sexy, cocky,
Australian named Chance was the last person I expected to run into on my
cross-country drive.
When my car broke
down, we made a deal. Next thing I knew, we were traveling together, spending
sexually-tense nights in hotels and taking unplanned detours.
My ordinary road trip
turned into the adventure of a lifetime. It was all fun and games until things
got intense.
I wanted him, but Chance
wouldn’t make a move. I thought he wanted me too, but something was holding him
back.
I wasn’t supposed to
fall for the cocky bastard, especially when I knew we’d be going our separate
ways.
All good things must
come to an end, right?
Vi Keeland
Vi Keeland is a native New Yorker with three children
that occupy most of her free time, which she complains about often, but
wouldn't change for the world. She is a bookworm and has been known to read her
kindle at stop lights, while styling her hair, cleaning, walking, during
sporting events, and frequently while pretending to work. She is a boring attorney by day, and an exciting
smut author by night!
Additional Books by Vi Keeland
Life on Stage series (2 standalone books)
Beat
Throb
MMA Fighter series (3 standalone books)
Worth the Fight (MMA Fighter Series, Book One)
Worth The Chance (MMA Fighter Series, Book Two)
Worth Forgiving (MMA Fighter Series, Book Three)
The Cole Series (2 book serial)
Belong to You (Cole Series, Book One)
Made for You (Cole Series, Book Two)
Standalone novels
Left Behind (A Young Adult Novel)
First Thing I See
Meet Penelope Ward
Penelope Ward is a New York Times,
USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. She grew up in Boston
with five older brothers and spent most of her twenties as a television news
anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud
mother of a beautiful 10-year-old girl with autism and a 9-year-old boy.
Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.
Other books from Penelope Ward
Stepbrother Dearest
Gemini
Jake Undone (Jake #1)
My Skylar
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1obOG2F
B&N: http://bit.ly/SLO1qi
iTunes: http://bit.ly/SLNOTR
kobo: http://bit.ly/1kNrtAB
Jake Understood (Jake #2)
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