Release date: August 25, 2014
Life for music teacher Maggie Schafer has been full of flat notes lately. Sick of being single and celibate, she vows to get her groove back at the upcoming Western Washington Choral Directors Annual Retreat.
Too bad the only guy who seems interested is a pompous dork who thinks he’s God’s gift to women—and the music education world. When he gets a little too arrogant and crosses boundaries, gorgeous pianist Randy Devers swoops in to run interference. After sharing a shockingly hot kiss in front of the whole conference, Maggie and Randy come up with a plan to pretend they’re dating.
However, the more time they spend together—and the more physical their “pretend” relationship gets—the more she wonders if there could be anything beyond just smoking chemistry and a friendly agreement between them.
by Liv Rancourt
Sensuality Level: Sensual
Liv Rancourt lives in Seattle with her husband, two teenagers, two ferrets, one cat, and one sweet puppy. Despite the day job and the menagerie, she finds time to write hot and funny romance. Find Liv at www.livrancourt.com, on Facebook, and on Twitter @LivRancourt.
An excerpt from Between the Sheets:
Krista plunked down next to me and tossed the Cosmo in my lap. “Read,” she said.
I came to the article promising to turn me into a sex diva. Crazy. Halfway down the page, one of the bold-type headings demanded I Flick His Frenulum. I vowed to flick the next one I saw, once I figured out where it was located. Apparently it would fire up his treasure trail, the line of hair running south from his bellybutton. The article said a real diva should take the initiative and undress her man. And I could imagine doing that exactly never. The next page suggested the standing doggie-style position would bring me to the highest heights.
The whole thing had me all twisted up, excitement and fear and desire making like ribbon candy in my belly. I tried to picture the kind of man I’d want behind me for standing doggie style. My ex came to mind, but right about the time the flood of bad memories started, Krista interrupted me with a sharp poke to the ribs.
“Check him out,” she said, her voice barely audible.
A man leaned against the railing at the front of the boat. He stared out at the water, taking lazy drags off the butt of a cigarette. Since he mostly had his back to us, I felt free to check him out.
Yum. He wore a pair of faded jeans and a light green T-shirt. He turned to the right, giving us a profile shot and showing off a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. His toned forearm had the freckled, light toast color redheads get in the sun. He wasn’t a true carrot-top; more like a sandy red, and his short hair could have used a trim. His beard, too, was a day or so into scruffy.
A black tattoo circled his arm just below the hem of his sleeve, calling attention to the swell of his bicep. I closed the magazine and sat forward, trying to get a better look at the tat, when Krista grabbed my elbow.
“There is no way.” I spoke without turning my head or moving my lips, even though
my twisted candy core started to melt. “Because even if he turns out, by some miracle, to be a music teacher, I couldn’t string sentences together in front of someone so incredibly handsome.”
She gave my elbow a shake. “If you get the chance, you are totally going to hit that.”
I shoved the magazine at her, hoping the Ginger God didn’t turn around and notice my blush.
Krista had always been the optimistic one.