Stargazer 🍻 Now Live

stargazer by wendy s. marcus

Release Date: September 2, 2021

Amazon: https://geni.us/AmazonStargazer
Add to Goodreads → http://bit.ly/3cy07jg
Series Page → https://hearteyespress.com/wotn#/speakeasy-taproom/

Cover Design: Elle Maxwell Designs

About the Book:

Randall Dickson is coping. Sort of. An upcoming medical eval, one that could end his military career, has him stressed and making bad choices. So when a concerned friend issues a strongly-worded “invitation” to Vermont, R.D. is all in for a change of scenery, a temporary job as a bartender, and the opportunity to shake himself out of his self-destructive routine.

Then he sets eyes on his seriously sexy new co-worker…

Lily Reynolds, an artist by day, Speakeasy’s favorite bartender at night, works hard to stay positive, unlike her surly new coworker. He may be a treat to look at, but that grumpy attitude and terse manner are not her type. So when Lily finds herself in desperate need of someone to share expenses, she convinces R.D. to rent her vacant room. There’s no way she’ll find herself falling for him.

She’d like to find the secret admirer who’s leaving her secret love notes around the bar, though. But he won’t reveal himself…

This standalone contains: opposites who definitely attract, a workplace romance, and an opinionated French bulldog.

Lily wasn’t kidding about being a full-body-contact sleeper. Turned out, I didn’t mind at all. Careful not to wake her, I held perfectly still, ignoring the throbbing in my hip and the stiffness in my leg, focusing instead on the floral scent of her hair, the feel of her soft, warm skin beneath my hands, against my chest. Her firm ass pressed against me. Damn good thing I’d left my pants on. 

    Every place we touched felt on fire. An intense need coursed through my veins, the urge to move, to grind myself against her almost got the better of me. 

    Almost.  

Lily deserved a man who would paint her the paintings, sing her the songs, and write her the poems she loved. A good guy. Dependable. Someone who could stay with her and make her feel safe every night. Not a disabled, cranky fuckup who got himself hooked on pain meds, lived on the other side of the country and spent a majority of his time in war zones overseas. At least, that was where I used to spend a majority of my time.

To avoid thinking about the past, the future, or anything unrelated to my present predicament, I engaged my brain in debating the merits of allowing myself to enjoy the feel of a woman in my arms while waiting for her to wake up naturally vs. disentangling to escape temptation and retreating to the safety of my own bed.  

I did not retreat. 

Instead, I tortured myself, envisioning how easy it would be to lower the waistbands of my boxer briefs and track pants with one hand, slide her shorts and panties to the side with the other, and ram my cock into her slick heat again and again until I had us both seeing stars. 

    The exceptional control I’d bragged about last night? It now resembled a single thread of a spider’s web. 

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