We love New Adult! Do you love New Adult too? If you like New Adult with stupid hot boys in it, then Perfect Kind of Trouble is for you. Check out the smoking hot cover and excerpt. Don't forget to enter the giveaway!
“So this is where you work?” She
gestures at the closed kitchen door behind me as she approaches.
I step back so she can enter the
courtyard then glance over my shoulder. “It’s more like the place where I help
out in the kitchen, occasionally,” I say. “I like to cook so sometimes the
owner, Jake, let’s me jump on the line.”
She tilts her head. “I wouldn’t
have pegged you as the cooking type.”
“No?” I arch a brow. “What type am
I?”
“Well the professional lover type,
obviously.”
I grin. “That too.”
The teasing in her eyes along with
the lightness of her smile does something soft to my insides. This is a
different Kayla than the one I was sitting next to at the bar. That girl was
stressed and burdened, but this girl… this girl is hopeful and happy.
The only reason I can think of for
the change in her tone is the inheritance. Does the idea of getting money
please her so much that she’s suddenly this cheerful person? Does it please me that much?
I remember Jake’s comment earlier,
about my being happy, and realize with a sinking feeling that yes, the idea of
an inheritance has made me happy. Money would alleviate some of my problems
and, therefore, it gives me a security in my future that pleases me.
I’m not sure how I feel about money
having so much control over my contentment. It makes me sound an awful lot like
my dad.
“So what is this place?” she asks,
nodding to the courtyard around us.
I look up at the small twinkle
lights strung above the area. “Right now it’s just storage space. But Jake
wants to make it into a dining patio. You know, so people can rent it out for
private parties or whatever.”
“It’s cute.” She walks around,
checking out the rose bushes that line the fence and the Tuscany-inspired mural
painted against the back wall.
“So where you off to?” I step
closer so we’re both beside the painted wall. “Back to your humble abode at the
Quickie Stop?”
She scoffs. “Humble indeed. But
yeah.”
I glance at the dark parking lot
beyond the fence and the even darker streets that lead to the edge of town, and
frown. “By yourself?”
She faces me with a cocked eyebrow.
“Yeah. I’ve got my own driver’s license and everything.”
I smile at the ground. “Okay,
that’s fair.” I glance at the dark streets again. “I’m just a concerned citizen
that wanted to make sure you got home safely. That’s all.”
She nods. “How very kind of you,
citizen. Would you rather I be going back to the Quickie Stop with someone?”
The idea of Kayla going home with
someone—anyone, other than me—rakes down my spine like nails on a chalkboard. I
don’t know when I got so possessive of this girl but holy hell. My veins are on
fire.
How very unexpected. And somewhat
annoying.
I don’t get
possessive of women. Ever. Sure, I care about Amber and Pixie but that’s
different. I care about them like sisters. I’m protective of them. I couldn’t really give a damn who they, or any
other female in this town, go to bed with.
But Kayla?
Hot jealousy darts through my
veins.
How very annoyingly unexpected.
I set my shoulders back in a casual
manner. “Not particularly,” I say coolly. “I just wasn’t sure if you had a ride
or not.”
“Oh.” She runs a finger over her
lips. “And what, you were going to offer me a ride?”
I watch the tip of her finger skim
over the pink fullness of her bottom lip and my breath hitches. She can’t say things
like “give me a ride” and touch her mouth at the same time. That’s just not
fair.
“Well I might have offered you a ride,” I say, inwardly cursing as I
remember sweet, precious Monique, “except I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed
to take rides from strangers. And since that’s what you and I are…” I sigh
dramatically. “It would have just been a waste of time to ask you.”
She smiles behind her moving
fingers and I start to wonder if she’d let me kiss her. My guess is, yes.
Maybe.
I want to kiss Kayla. Badly. But
the idea of kissing her, of touching her at all, also makes me a little
nervous. And I’m never nervous when it comes to women.
Goddammit. Everything about this girl is unexpected.
“You’re so obsessed with us not
being strangers,” she says, and her eyes shine. “That can’t be healthy.”
I probably shouldn’t kiss her. We
have an inheritance to claim tomorrow. We have shit to follow through with.
Kissing her is a bad idea. A very bad idea.
“No. Probably not.” I step closer
so we’re only inches apart. “But I can’t seem to let it go.”
She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t
break eye contact.
Yes. She’d definitely let me kiss
her. I’m sure of it.
My heart pounds and it’s all I can
do to keep my nonchalant demeanor in place.
“Is that what we are, Kayla?” I lower
my voice with a crooked grin. “Strangers?”
She meets my crooked grin and
raises me a tipped chin. Her eyes are steel and sure, not giving anything away,
and I suddenly feel unsure.
I lean in.
She doesn’t react. But she also
doesn’t back away.
Kissing her is a bad idea.
Her lips part, ever so slightly, a
thin seam of wet flesh forming between the soft skin of her pretty lips, and
all my reservations vanish.
About the author
Chelsea lives in Phoenix, Arizona, where she spends most of her time writing stories, painting murals, and avoiding housework at all costs. She's ridiculously bad at doing dishes and claims to be allergic to laundry. Her obsessions include: superheroes, coffee, sleeping-in, and crazy socks. She lives with her husband and two children, who graciously tolerate her inability to resist teenage drama on TV and her complete lack of skill in the kitchen.
Social Media Links:
No comments:
Post a Comment