Sometimes wrong can feel oh so right . . . Jenna
Lacombe needs complete control, whether it's in the streets . . . or between the
sheets. So when she sets out on a solo road trip to visit her family in
New Orleans, she's beyond annoyed that the infuriatingly sexy Jack Oliver wants
to hitch a ride with her. Ever since they shared a wild night together last
year, he's been trying to strip away her defenses one by one. He claims he's
just coming along to keep her safe-but what's not safe for her is
prolonged exposure to the tattooed hottie.
Jack can't get Jenna out from under his skin. She makes him feel alive again after his old life nearly destroyed him-and losing her is not an option. Now Jack's troubles are catching up to him, and he's forced to return to his hometown in Louisiana. But when his secrets put them both in harm's way, Jenna will have to figure out how far she's willing to let love in . . . and how much she already has.
Jack can't get Jenna out from under his skin. She makes him feel alive again after his old life nearly destroyed him-and losing her is not an option. Now Jack's troubles are catching up to him, and he's forced to return to his hometown in Louisiana. But when his secrets put them both in harm's way, Jenna will have to figure out how far she's willing to let love in . . . and how much she already has.
Excerpt:
Opening my car door, I slide into
the driver’s seat, turn to put the key in the ignition and—
“Ahh!” Jumping back, I thwack my
open palm against the gigantic body of pure muscle seated in the passenger
seat. “Dammit, Jack! You scared me!”
“Good morning.” He grins.
“What are you doing in my car?” I
snap, throwing him some serious stink eye.
“I’m going with you to Louisiana.”
He nods to a large duffle bag in the backseat.
I blink. “Uh, no you’re not.”
“Uh, yes I am.”
“Like hell.”
He crinkles his brow. “I’ve never
understood that phrase. But okay. I’ll go with you ‘like hell,’ whatever that
means.”
“Get out of my car.” I point to
the door.
“Oh, Jenna.” He clucks his tongue.
“This will be good for both of us. Listen.” He casually leans against the
passenger window and pierces me with his gray eyes. “For reasons beyond my
control, I need to go back home. And for reasons beyond your control, so do
you. And since our ‘homes’ are right next door to one another, I figured we’d
carpool to Louisiana and you can just drop me off at Little Vail on your way to
New Orleans.”
He gives me that little-boy smile
of his and it’s all I can do not to lean forward and soak it in. I hate me.
“I don’t see how that’s good for
me,” I say. “At all.”
He shrugs. “You get some company
on the road.”
I nod with a clenched jaw. “And
you get a free ride.”
His smile grows and I instantly
realize that was the wrong thing to say.
“Precisely,” he says.
I can’t afford to spend any
excessive time with Jack. Not just because we fight, but because of what
happened last year. It was one crazy night when we were both drunk, and we
never spoke of it after the fact, but our “friendship” has been tense ever
since.
“Well, I don’t need any company,”
I say, shaking my head.
“Sure you do,” he says easily.
“Everyone needs company.”
“Not me. So get out.”
He grins. “No.”
God I hate him. But not really.
God I hate that I don’t hate him.
I jut my chin and stare him over.
“Fine. If you won’t remove yourself…” Exiting the car, I stomp around the hood
to his door, yank it open, and wrap my hands around his bicep. Then I start
pulling.
He doesn’t budge. Like, he
literally doesn’t move an inch as I tug at his oversized arm and grunt like I’m
trying to move a massive piece of hardwood furniture and not a human being.
His eyes dance as he watches my
struggle. “What’s your plan here, Jenna? Haul me out of the car and leave me in
the street?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound friendly
at all,” he says, flicking the lever to recline to seat a bit so he looks even more
relaxed than before.
“I wasn’t trying to be friendly,”
I grit out.
“Clearly.”
I try pulling him out again, to no
avail. He’s giant and solid, and honestly, just touching him is turning me on.
I drop my hands and glower at him.
“You can’t just tell me that you’re coming along on my road trip.”
He cocks his head. “Would you feel
better if I asked?”
“Not especially.”
“Jenna.” He leans forward and his
gaze bores through me, down into the deepest parts of my being. “Will you
please let me join you on your trip to Louisiana?”
For a moment, I’m lost in his
eyes, debating with myself. I don’t trust myself around Jack. Not at all. But I
did spend half the night tossing in my sleep with nightmares about traveling
alone so maybe having Jack tag along might not be so bad after all. Maybe.
Pulling back, I straighten my
shoulders and relent, like usual when it comes to Jack.
“Fine,” I huff out as I stomp back
to my side of the car in climb in. “But no talking,” I say, hoping I haven’t
just made a huge mistake.
He grins and I turn away.
Surely I can manage to keep
my panties on around Jack for a few days…right?
5
Signed Copies of RIGHT KIND OF WRONG
About Chelsea Fine:
Chelsea lives in Phoenix,
Arizona, where she spends most of her time writing stories, painting murals, and
avoiding housework at all costs. She's ridiculously bad at doing dishes and
claims to be allergic to laundry. Her obsessions include: superheroes, coffee,
sleeping-in, and crazy socks. She lives with her husband and two children, who
graciously tolerate her inability to resist teenage drama on TV and her complete
lack of skill in the kitchen.
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