Blue Collar Bachelors

From the first time I meet Leo Montgomery, I know I'm in trouble. His dark, heated gaze skittering down my body sets my skin on fire. A rare sighting of his elusive, heart-stopping smile and - dear lord - I think I just ovulated. But then, he hires me to babysit his adorable little troublemaker after school, and now, my maternal instincts are working overtime.

Charlie Hartley is the thing that addictions are made of. At least that's what I've heard from the parade of desperate women who've gone through his bedroom's revolving door. Brash and unapologetic, tattooed and insanely handsome. I'm sure there's a Charlie Addicts Anonymous meeting taking place somewhere in the great state of Illinois as we speak.

I can't stand Clinton Alvarez. My life was meticulously organized, painstakingly structured, and impeccably sanitary...until he rolled into town with his bad manners, his short temper, and his cocky smirk. Now, he's opened up his grungy barbershop right next door to my pristine cupcake shop, bringing along his clientele of sketchy, leather-loving motorcycle guys with broken noses. He's infuriating. Having him around brings out the worst in me. All of a sudden, I'm acting on impulse.

Ben Riggs says he loves me. He says he hasn't stopped thinking about me since he broke my heart and chased me out of town all those years ago. I say, liar liar pants on fire. And boy, do those bright yellow, flame-resistant fireman pants look good on him. I'm aching to feel those big, rough hands clenching on my hips and to collect on the illicit promises burning in his dark blue eyes. Self-control goes up in flames every time he flashes that arrogant smile. So I give in - because a woman has needs. (Am I right, ladies?) He can have my body, but my heart is off-limits.

I probably didn't make a great first impression. Rushing through his apartment door - practically naked aside from the plastic shower cap on my head - and charging for his bathroom as if my skin was on fire. What was I supposed to do? Wait around for a white knight to swoop through my bathroom window with a wrench and a toilet plunger to save me from my faulty plumbing situation? Insert eye roll here. Anyway, that's the story of how I met my new landlord.

"Come up to my room with me...." The invitation came in a deep, husky voice as I was sobbing into my floral arrangement and consuming all the alcohol during the lowest night of my life. I should have said no. It was wrong to accept the handsome soldier's offer. But I was hurting. I wanted those rough hands and those soft lips and that sculpted body on me. I was never supposed to see him again. But two years later, he's here - in Copper Heights - just as tall, rugged, and charming as the night we met.