Lover Boy (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 1) Read online

  LOVER BOY

  (THE BLUE COLLAR BACHELORS SERIES - Book 1)

  Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  Lover Boy (The Blue Collar Bachelors Series – Book 1)

  Copyright © 2017 Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents appearing therein are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status of the various products referenced in this work.

  Amazon’s Kindle Store is the only authorized distributor of this ebook. If you have downloaded or purchased it from any other distributor, please note that you have received an illegal copy. This not only violates the author’s copyright, deprives the author of royalties due and puts the book at risk of being removed from Kindle distribution, but it also exposes you to computer viruses, theft of your personal information by book pirates and potential legal prosecution.

  Stories by

  Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  The Blue Collar Bachelors Series

  Lover Boy

  Play Boy (Now available)

  Bad Boy (Pre-order now)

  The Dirty Suburbs Series

  Dirty Neighbor

  Dirty Player

  Dirty Stranger

  Dirty Favor

  Dirty Lover

  Dirty Farmer

  Dirty Silver

  Dirty Forever

  Dirty Christmas

  The Esquire Girls Series

  Amber’s Story

  Amber Nights (Amber – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Madison’s Story

  For Madison, Always (Madison – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Ruthie’s Story

  Ruthie’s Desire (Ruthie – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Hailey’s story

  Moments with Hailey (Hailey - Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

  Esquire HEAT Series

  A Very Eager Intern

  A Very Frustrated Attorney

  Standalone novels

  Matteo

  Beast

  Special Release Week Pricing

  SHOP NOW

  Lover Boy

  The Blue Collar Bachelors Series (Book 1)

  He's the hot single dad next door. My brother's best friend...And I want him to be my lover.

  From the first time I meet Leo Montgomery, I know that 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.

  It was never supposed to be more than a harmless crush on my older brother's best friend.

  But (accidentally) showing him my enormous, red granny panties was probably my first mistake. (Apparently, he's into that sort of thing.)

  That slow, sensual kiss on the back porch didn't help matters, either.

  We need an outlet for the combustible sexual tension between us. There's no denying it. But he says he can't be my boyfriend. He won't let me into his closely guarded heart.

  I tell him that's okay. After all, we don't need a title. We don't need to be together. We can just be lovers. Can't we?

  Well, as it turns out, the road to hell is paved with good intentions...and enormous, red granny panties.

  Lover Boy is a steamy, laugh-out-loud, single-dad-next-door romance set in small town Illinois. It is book 1 in the Blue Collar Bachelors series.

  Table of contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  Preview of Play Boy (The Blue Collar Bachelors Series Book 2) – Now Available

  Chapter 1

  Leo

  "Are we they'w yet?" a sleepy, little voice calls out from the back seat of Mara's beat-up, silver Ford Escort.

  I glance into the rearview mirror and am met by a pair of dark brown eyes struggling to stay open under their heavy lids. His white sweater is two sizes too small and has ketchup stains from the fast food dinner we shared earlier. There’s yogurt crusted at the corners of his lips. That’s from breakfast.

  He’s a really cute kid but in the short time that he’s been in my care, he’s started to look like one of those kids. Y’know—the kids you see streaking through the aisles of Walmart and you immediately start wishing that parents were required to get some sort of certificate to prove their fitness to raise children? Yeah, one of those.

  Jeez, I don’t know how to be a caretaker.

  A provider? Yes.

  A protector? Damn right.

  But a caretaker? Shit…With the headspace I’m in, I can hardly take care of myself.

  He doesn’t know any better, though. All he knows is that he’s ready to get out of the confines of this damn car. His favorite soccer ball is clenched in one hand as he jams the thumb of his other hand into his mouth.

  The thumb sucking. I wonder if that's new. Mara never mentioned it before. At least not that I remember. I'm struck by yet another wave of guilt. There's so much I don't know about my son. There's so much I'll never be able to ask his mother.

  How the hell am I supposed to do this?

  I’m woefully unprepared. It all happened too fast. One minute, I was out in the jungle sniffing out militant combattants. The next minute, I was back stateside, tugging my bawling toddler along as I dragged him away from the only home he’s ever known. Now, I'm in my car—Mara’s car—with a tiny stranger strapped into his booster seat, driving to a small town I’ve never been to take a job I’m unqualified for with an old friend I haven’t seen in years.

  I can't remember the last time I took a breath.

  Brenton's high-pitched voice rings out again. "Dad-dy..." he whines.

  With a jolt, I snap out of my reverie. "Almost there, buddy," I say as our eyes meet in the mirror.

  He lets the ball tumble to the floor. "You alweady said that a long time ago," he admonishes sternly and folds his little arms across his little chest. Well, damn. My tyke is calling me a liar.

  My mouth opens and closes wordlessly, not quite sure of the guidelines for negotiating with pint-sized terrorists who live under your roof and call you ‘daddy�
��. Mara was good at this. She knew how to handle this…I think.

  I've tromped through warzones. I've come face to face with some of the world's most ruthless killers. But no one, nothing has ever scared me as much as the snot-faced three-footer sitting in the backseat.

  I'm responsible for him. Whether he turns into a devil or a saint is a responsibility stacked squarely on my shoulders and it's terrifying. How am I supposed to shape him into a decent human being when I'm so lost and depressed that I don't know right from left, let alone right from wrong?

  "Is Uncle Charlie gonna play soccer with me in the backyard when we get there?" he asks.

  "It's pretty late. I think that maybe we should save the soccer for tomorrow. Don't ya think?" I’m not sure that suggestion will go over too well.

  "Nooo!" he shrieks histrionically, "No fair!" He tosses his head back and clenches his fists as if I just told him that his health insurance premiums are going up and his shifts are getting cut in half and the electricity is about to get shut off. Tears pour down his sticky cheeks and soap-opera-style sobs rip free from his chest.

  Jeez, kid—it’s not that deep!

  Anyway, that's how his latest mini-tantrum commences. Oh god, I feel a migraine coming on, tightening right behind my eyes. I try to rationalize with him, telling him that it's too dark, that he's too tired but from what I gather, four year olds don't respond well to logic.

  I love the boy but thank god I only have one of him. I wouldn’t be able to handle duplicates.

  Eventually, I break down, reaching across the console and opening up the glove box. I dig around—empty potato chip wrappers and gas station receipts falling to the floor—until I find a small stash of gummy bears. With one hand on the wheel, I bite down on the side of the package and tug sharply with my other hand, quickly opening the bag and stretching my peace offering into the back seat. My son hesitates for a second, contemplating my compromise. I squeeze my eyes in relief when he takes it into his tiny hands and his complaining trails off. Soon, his contented little hums are the only sound filling the cabin.

  Feeding my kid pounds of sugar and food coloring to shut him up. I'm dad of the year. Where do I claim my prize?

  Shit…this is going to be a disaster.

  I veer off of the I-90 north and glance up at the highway sign glowing up ahead in the darkness.

  Welcome to Copper Heights.

  Let’s see how this goes.

  Chapter 2

  Reese

  “Fuck the getting-to-know-you stuff—let’s just skip straight to the sex.”

  I glance up from the pile of hot clothes that I’m pulling out of the dryer and stare over at my best friend. “You sound just like my last three dates,” I say flatly. I wish I were joking.

  Nova flicks her wrist dismissively at me as she crosses her legs beneath her and trains her attention on my laptop screen in front of her. “Half of this quiz is boring. I’m not gonna sit here and ask you personality questions when we can just jump to the good stuff.” She giggles at my sour expression. "Okay, first question—how would you describe your ideal lover?" She turns her expectant emerald irises to me and drums the tip of her finger against the palm rest of the computer as she waits for my answer.

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She’s taken it upon herself to sign me up on some online dating website despite my protests. I have absolutely no intention of searching for my next date on the internet, but I'll humor her for a few minutes.

  Rubbing a finger thoughtfully against the side of my mouth, I pretend to think hard. "A former military man who is now a volunteer firefighter. Of course, his body is ripped in the sexiest way with abs that are packed like ladder rungs. He permanently wears a deep and pensive broody look. And for some inexplicable reason, he has a thing for girls with love handles and thigh-jiggle."

  She balls up a napkin and tosses it at me. "Be serious, Reese. This is important. You haven’t had an orgasm in forever and I'm starting to worry about you."

  "Don't," I tell her pointedly. "I'm fine." I turn my back to her and bend into the dryer to pull out the rest of my fresh laundry.

  True—I’m long overdue for some seismic activity in my nether regions but I’m not about to start dwelling on the lack of male companionship in my life. I’ve never been good at romantic relationships so I’m satisfied with spending time with my friends, co-owning a thriving business and hanging out with my (annoying but loving) family. At least for now.

  Copper Heights, Illinois isn’t rife with dating options, anyway. This small suburb is overrun by mean soccer moms with their monster strollers and their despondent, prematurely balding husbands. And don’t forget the slow-moving seniors whose attempts at parallel parking clog Main Street at all hours of the day. Eligible bachelors, as a species, are practically extinct around these parts. All that to say that—yes—I’m going through a dry spell, but I’m really not eager to put myself out there again.

  "You're not fine," Nova insists. "I feel like you’re still just relentlessly holding onto the hope that Martin's gonna zip back into Copper Heights and stop liking boys and scoop you up like it’s the fairy tale of our generation.” She throws me a frustrated look and shakes her head. “Goddamn. If Jack had half as much tenacity as you do, Titanic would have had a happy ending."

  She’s never going to let me live this Martin-thing down, is she?

  Look—I’m not one to back down from a challenge. When my childhood sweetheart admitted to being gay, I hadn’t seen it coming. Yes, he’d been a High School Musical fanatic, but who hadn’t been?

  Anyway, did I dump him like a hot potato following that epic confession? Hell no! Instead, I spent another two years trying to convince him otherwise because you don’t just give up on people. At least not when you love them. But ultimately, those efforts failed and he ran off to Vegas to perform show tunes. If I’m honest, the guy always did look good in red Lycra and sequins.

  Whatever…

  He and I are on excellent terms and his partner, Hahn, ensures that I get a delicious fruitcake every Christmas. I don’t know what Nova’s whining about. I'd call that a win.

  She’s still yapping away as the divine combination of lemon and vanilla infuses the kitchen. She stares at me with her wild golden ringlets fanning out around her caramel face like a curly lion's mane. "I don't mean to be harsh, but I've got news for you. Martin's not coming back. The sweet, exuberant disco enthusiast who serenaded you down the halls of Copper Heights High? He doesn't exist anymore."

  I check the timer on the counter. Just a few more minutes before I pull the cupcakes out of the oven. "Nova...I’m over him. I just haven’t met anyone worth investing in yet. So, please, let’s not relive the Martin phase." I move my laundry basket to the table and set it right in front of her, hoping that she'll take a hint and help me as I fold. No such luck. I’m not surprised. She’s just going to sit around and wait to be fed while I buzz around the kitchen like a worker bee doing overtime. I shake my head.

  Nova Chester is my badass-warrior-woman friend. We’ve been besties since high school. My family was reasonably well-off but my dad was determined to make a ‘statement’ by sending his kids to public school instead of carting us off to Hoovertown Private High School. It was a political strategy he adopted to bolster his run for the state senate but I’m glad he made that decision because that’s how I met Nova.

  She’s my opposite in endless ways but she feels like my soul mate on many levels. She’s the friend who has a catty retort for every situation and can kick some ass even in four-inch leather thigh-highs. The one you call when you find your blind date blocking the service exit with his tongue down the waitress’s throat halfway through your romantic rendez-vous (True story, by the way). She’s blunt. She’s real. She’s straightforward. And because of that I trust her with my life despite her rough edges.

  "No, no. Just let me say this,” she insists. “You were always way out of his league. And I know that he broke your heart but—you know what
they say—the best way to heal a broken heart is to find a Greek sex god with a monster cock and ride the shit out of him until you fracture your pelvis."

  I laugh. "I really don't think that's what they say."

  My phone bleats in the pocket of the jeans I’m wearing. I pull it out and check it. A text message from my older sister.

  Vivian: Where’s the sales report I asked you to prepare? You said it would be on my desk by Friday!

  I roll my eyes. I love Viv to bits but she really needs to chill out with her stupid reports and memos and business plans. I shove the phone back into my pocket without responding.

  "Well, you know what I mean," Nova urges. "You need to put yourself out there more, present yourself in a way that highlights your very best attributes. You need to slay. You can't let that man break you once and for all, Reesie!"