Harper Nugent might have a little extra junk in her trunk, but her stepbrother calling her out on it is the last straw… When rugby hottie, Dexter Blake, witnesses the insult, he surprises Harper by asking her out. In front of her dumbass brother. Score! Of course, she knows it’s not for reals, but Dex won’t take no for an answer.
Dexter Blake’s life revolves around rugby with one hard and fast rule: no women. Sure, his left hand is getting a workout, but he's focused on his career for now. Then he overhears an asshat reporter belittle the curvy chick he'd been secretly ogling. What's a guy to do but ask her out? It’s just a little revenge against a poser, and then he'll get his head back in the game.
But the date is better than either expected. So is the next one. And the next. And the heat between them…sizzles their clothes right off.
Suddenly, this fake relationship is feeling all too real…
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Amy is an award-winning, best-selling Aussie author who has written over fifty contemporary romances in both the traditional and digital markets. She loves good books, fab food, great wine and frequent travel - preferably all four together.
She lives on acreage on the outskirts of Brisbane with a gorgeous mountain view but secretly wishes it was the hillsides of Tuscany.
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“Here, try this,” Harper said, filling her cupped hand with the running tap water and splashing it at the affected area.
He jumped back as the water soaked in, gaping at her then at his jersey then back at her. “How does that make it better?”
“Just say you were washing your hands like a good boy and the tap sprayed up at you. They’re pretty notorious for that.”
He shook his head as he looked in the mirror again. “They’re never going to believe me.”
“Fine,” she murmured, amused at his despair as she pulled off more paper towel for him to mop up the excess water. “Tell them Chuck Nugent’s step-sister jerked you off in a bathroom while they were visiting sick and injured kiddies and playing nice for the cameras.”
He grabbed the hand towel and mopped at the wet patch. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he growled.
“Oh, I see,” she teased. “You just want to keep me as your dirty little secret.”
Dex threw the paper towel in the bin before flicking the tap off with a quick swat. He grabbed her by the baggy front of her overalls and hauled her close. “Fucking A,” he growled, his mouth landing on hers in a brief, punishing kiss.
Harper was useless against the onslaught, grasping his biceps and moaning her capitulation, almost falling backwards when he released her just as abruptly. “Will you be watching the game tomorrow?”
She nodded. It was about all she was capable of currently. “Yes.”
His gaze locked with hers. “What will you be wearing?”
Harper’s breath hitched unable to look away from the fever she saw there. “What do you want me to wear?”
He glanced down at the zipper. “Nothing.”
Her belly tightened. “Okay.”
“I want you stretched out on your couch naked in front of the television.”
“I want you to slide your dildo in and keep it there for the entire game and every time we score a try I want you to come.”
Harper was pretty damn sure she was about to come right now. She’d never been given homework by a guy before—erotic or otherwise—and she was so turned on she could barely see straight. She supposed she should be shocked. She’d known him for such a short time and they were in a supposedly fake platonic relationship.
She should tell him to go to hell. But screw that.
“I want to know that while I’m sweating my ass off on that field that you’re at home getting your ass off. Will you do that for me, Harper?”
She swallowed. “Okay.”
Long moments passed as they stared at each other. Her heart tripped manically in her chest and at her all her pulse points. Her breath came in rough pants. Harper wondered if the heat and hunger she could see in Dex’s eyes was his or merely a reflection of her own arousal.
He nodded, satisfied. “Good. See you Sunday.”
Then he stepped around her and walked out the door, leaving Harper entirely unfit to paint anything.
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