About THE REASON I MARRIED HIM (Coming 2/6/2024):
He proposed . . . and I said yes.
Normally a jovial occasion for a couple in love, but this proposal has a very different feel.
Because the man that I'll be calling my husband blew into town with one thing on his mind . . . to make my life a living nightmare.
So why did I say yes?
Well, because we both need something from each other.
Namely, I want the farm land he currently owns, and he needs a wife in order to inherit his family cabin in his grandfather’s will.
So as he so eloquently put it, my hand, for his land.
At first, I thought the idea was nuts.
Who really gets married out of convenience?
Apparently, I do.
And now we have to sell our relationship to the town. Meaning, we're holding hands, he's pinching my cheeks . . . upper and lower. We're even forced to share the one-bedroom guest house on the farm where his monstrous body is taking up a large percentage of the bed.
But we’re so persuasive about our farse, that now I’m starting to think he actually might like me. Especially when he grabs me by the wrist and teases the shell of my ear as he whispers, “Mine.”
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Get your sneak peek here!“See,” he says as he turns toward me. “I am helpful on the farm.”
“Never said you weren’t helpful,” I reply as I cast the room into darkness by turning off my light. “Just that you don’t have to be on the farm every day.”
“What if I like being on the farm every day?” he asks as his fingers dance down my arm, creating a wave of goosebumps.
“Well, I mean . . . that’s, uh . . . that’s up to you,” I say as a blast of nerves hit me all at once . . . because I know what’s coming.
I know what we’ve been developing over the past few nights.
The intensity has grown.
The countdown in my head until I can slip into bed with him has kicked up.
And today, when I was washing my face and getting ready for bed, I realized that this light, airy feeling in my chest was the anticipation of how he might kiss me tonight.
“Well, I like being on the farm.” He dances his fingers down to my wrist where he encircles it and then slowly lifts my hand over my head and pins my wrist to the pillow. “I saw you looking at me through the office window.”
“What?” I say breathlessly as he lowers his head. “No . . . no, I wasn’t.”
“Darn,” he says with a devilish grin. “I was hoping to catch you. You didn’t watch me at all?”
“I, uh . . .” He brings his face so close our noses are nearly touching. “I was, um . . .” I wet my lips. “Working.”
“Maybe next time,” he says and then whispers. “Well, good night, Aubree.”
“G-good night,” I say just before his mouth descends on mine.
At first, he’s soft, exploratory, just like last night, but when I think he’s going to pull away, he applies more pressure as his mouth opens.
His body leans into mine.
And his mouth opens and closes along with mine, causing my mind to reel and my body to sing.
It’s so good.
His kisses are so delicious.
So addictive.
I cup his face softly and mold my lips against his, parting my lips as his tongue connects with mine.
Oh yes.
My grip intensifies as I take a chance and slip my tongue against his.
He mutters something as he pulls away and stares down at me, his chest heavy, his eyes searching.
I run my tongue over my lips as I keep my gaze on his. “That . . . uh, was that okay?”
“Yeah, more than okay,” he says right before he brings his mouth back to mine. This time, his body sinks into my side, the heaviness of it now falling into me like a weighted blanket. He parts my lips again, and his tongue dances across my tongue, tangling and twisting, our mouths opening wider.
He’s so good at this.
His command, his pressure, the feel of him holding me in place but also treating me as if I’m fragile. It’s unlike any kiss I’ve ever experienced. And I don’t want it to end.
It’s why I move my hand to the back of his neck.
It’s why I shift, making more room for him.
It’s why I continue to run my tongue over his, causing him to groan softly as he returns the stroke.
This is unexpected, but it’s also what I thought might happen tonight. Because the tension every night has been building. The kisses have grown. And now that he has me pinned against this bed, making out with me, using his tongue, making me feel things I don’t think I’ve ever felt, I’m slowly starting to melt.
To accept this.
To be okay with it.
To want it.
ABOUT MEGHAN QUINN:
USA Today Bestselling Author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover. Author of romantic comedies and contemporary romance, Meghan Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.
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