~Ally~

Miller holds open the hobby shop door for me. “After you, my warrior princess. I believe we have a castle to create.”

“Chloe left me a list of items to pick up, since she’s seeing her therapist.”

“Never miss a shrink visit, I say.” Miller stops in front of a remote-controlled helicopter display. “How are they going for her, anyway?”

“Good. She’s almost done with the appointments. She’s doing so well now, but it took a while,” I say, smiling as we go inside, proud of my girl.

“I’m glad she’s doing better. It’s all because of you.”

I wave off the compliment as we head down the aisles. Pom-poms and fabrics abound, nestled alongside scrapbook boxes and glitter glue, which cuddles with glitter guns and ribbons. I stop at an aisle bursting with silver ribbons, polka-dot ribbons, and ribbons with tassels. I scratch my head. “I don’t understand why there are so many ribbons.”

Miller leans in close and whispers, “The better to tie you up with, my pretty.”

A tingle spreads over my shoulders, surprising me, even thought I’m not surprised by his words. He’s a natural-born flirt, and I’m used to his naughty banter. It’s never directed toward me, per se. He’s just having fun. It’s Miller being Miller, like when we play Bananagrams and he tries to make as many naughty-sounding words as possible, like caulk and diphthong. “In that case, let’s make it a polka-dot ribbon. I can wear it with my famous polo shirts and ponytails,” I say, referring to the super-sweet style I wore when I sang online with my brother.

“Ooh, that makes it even naughtier, and it proves my point.”

“What’s that?”

He holds up a finger. “I have a hunch craft stores are frequented by the Fifty Shades crowd.”

I laugh. “DIY BDSM-ers?”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Ribbons are for typing pretty wrists.” He circles his hand around my wrist, sending another unexpected charge through me. I do my best to ignore the sensation. He lets go quickly and leads me to an aisle of wooden frames, birdhouses, and, oddly enough, paddles. “Those paddles are not for school projects, I tell you.”

“Whatever are they for?” I ask, feigning innocence.

Miller mimes spanking my butt. Next, he gestures to the candle-making section. “Exhibit B that hobby shops are fronts for kinky sex clubs—just imagine all this wax dripping on bellies and butts tonight.”

“How on earth am I supposed to work on a project with Chloe now that you’ve put these thoughts in my head?”

He runs a hand lightly over my hair and says in his raspy baritone, “I suspect those thoughts were already there.”

Were they?Are they? Images scroll through my mind, mostly involving ribbons.

A #1 New York Times Bestselling author, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s hot, sweet and sexy. She lives in California with her family and has plotted entire novels while walking her dogs. With fourteen New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than 100 times, and she’s sold more than 2.5 million books. In September she’ll release ONCE UPON A SURE THING, a sexy best-friends-to-lovers romance. To receive an email when Lauren releases a new book, sign up for her newsletter! laurenblakely.com/newsletter

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That smoking hot one-night stand with a former rock star?

Turns out he’s my son’s new music teacher. Oops.

But I didn’t know that the night I met Campbell. All I knew was he played my body the same way he played a guitar — like he owned it.

My libido is still high-fiving me after being self-served for too many years, and we’re both ready for another night or two of fun, especially since we don’t just have chemistry in bed — we connect over everything.

That is, until I learn he’s the man who’ll be coming to my house twice a week to teach my son — the best music lessons money can buy.

Time to turn down the volume on our shenanigans. Only that’s easier said than done.

***

I can rock a guitar solo in front of thousands, I can write chart-topping tunes, and I can absolutely stop thinking about my student’s mother naked.

After all, I’m a single parent too, and I know what it’s like to put your kid first. That’s what I do every damn day.

Trouble is, now that I’ve had Mackenzie, it’s hard — and I do mean hard — to stop wanting her. Harder too when I get to know her, and learn she’s an awesome mom, a great friend, and, oh yeah, she happens to get along perfectly with my daughter.

All we have to do is set some rules. No dating, no nookie when the kids are around, and no one gets hurt.

It’s all working out beautifully. Until we start breaking the rules, one by one.

Making music with her in the bedroom is easy. But will we be more than just a real good time when the music stops?

Mackenzie

I’m not checking him out.

I am solely focused on answering the next trivia question. The game emcee spouts it out for the four teams vying for the prize at The Grouchy Owl bar. The prize being bragging rights.

The hostess clears her throat, brings the mic to her mouth, and asks the question: “Which Las Vegas hotel did the bachelor party stay at—”

I’m perched forward in the chair whispering the answer to my teammate—Caesars, Caesars, Caesars—so we can write it on the answer slip before the hostess even finishes.

“—in the 2009 moving The Hangover?”

“So easy,” I say to Roxy as she smacks my palm and mouths ringer while filling in the answer.

I’m not a ringer.

I was simply fed a steady diet of Trivial Pursuit, trivia books, and endless facts about the world as a kid.

That’s all.

Also, I love trivia. Trivia helped me through some tough times as an adult, and by tough, I mean anxiety-ridden, sleepless, and stressful. That kind of tough.

As the hostess flips her cards to the next question, the guy on stage—the one I’m not at all checking out—adjusts the amp for his guitar. The Grouchy Owl has a little bit of everything—from darts, to pub quizzes, to pool, to live music from local bands. It’s like a Vegas hotel right here in the West Village. Big Ike doesn’t want patrons to leave, so she makes sure the entertainment options are plentiful.

And if that handsome hottie stays on the stage, I won’t want to head home for a long, long time. Except that I’ll have to. I’m Cinderella, and I turn into a pumpkin in minutes.

But for now…Hello, nice view.

As the guy turns the knob on the amp, his brown hair flops over his eyes. He flicks it off his forehead with a quick snap then runs his fingers down the strings on his guitar. Those fingers fly.

I bet they’d fly other places too.

A #1 New York Times Bestselling author, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author, Lauren Blakely is known for her contemporary romance style that’s hot, sweet and sexy. She lives in California with her family and has plotted entire novels while walking her dogs. With fourteen New York Times bestsellers, her titles have appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Bestseller Lists more than 100 times, and she’s sold more than 2.5 million books. In September she’ll release ONCE UPON A REAL GOOD TIME, a fun & sexy rock star romance. To receive an email when Lauren releases a new book, sign up for her newsletter! laurenblakely.com/newsletter