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One jaded woman. Two hot men. A challenge to prove Cupid doesn't always know best. After a lifetime of dating losers, Noel Chase thinks she’s found love with college professor Len Holder. But Cupid's aim sucks worse than his crap-tacular curse, sticking her with supposed soul mate, Grayson Adler. Grayson is gorgeous, Greek, and an exact replica of the man-whores of her past. No matter what the chubby cherub thinks, Noel is sure Grayson is Mr. Wrong with a capital “W.” Forced to do Cupid’s bidding, Noel must spend her days with Grayson matchmaking the unlucky-in-loves, and trying to resist Grayson’s charm and do-me-now sex appeal. But when Cupid tries to match her fiancé, Len, with another woman, Noel must make an excruciating decision. Defy Cupid and hang on to Len? Or succumb to her fate and trust Grayson with her heart?
Grayson sat up and gave me the melt-your-heart smile I’m sure made most women drop an egg. But I knew from past experience that behind his oh-so-handsome features lived a playboy heart and a wandering dick.
Ten… nine… eight. A wrecking ball of desire rolled through me and crashed to a stop at the crux of my legs. Some people call it lust. I call it a two by four that beats me over the head and reminds me that my life is the complete opposite of normal. Oh hell, I didn’t even make it to seven before I wanted to rip off Grayson’s clothes and ride him like a dirty cowgirl on a mechanical bull.
Last month Cupid shot my size-six ass with an arrow and saddled me with the soul mate from hell. I lay on my side and looked at the snoring mountain of muscle next to me. Grayson Adler. Supposedly my perfect match in every way, but whoever was in charge of perfect matches perfectly fucked up. Even though my body shook from a Grayson-induced, post-coital high, I still loathed my couldn’t-be-more-wrong-for-me mate. However, we were stuck together for eternity because of Cupid and his craptacular curse. A wall-rattling snore broke through the hum of the air conditioner in the over-priced hotel room we met in every two weeks for our do-it-or-die conjugal visit. Grayson reached down and adjusted his erection. His hand brushed my thigh and his touch ignited a spark in my nether regions. Hot and horny, that’s how things were with Grayson and me. Sexual compatibility off the charts. Too bad the rest of our relationship itched like sand in the crotch.
Meet The Author...
Jenn Windrow loves characters that have a pinch of spunk, a dash of attitude, and a large dollop of sex appeal. Top it all off with a huge heaping helping of snark, and you’ve got the ingredients for the kind of fast paced stories she loves to read and write. Home is a suburb of it’s-so-hot-my-shoes-have-melted-to-the-pavement Phoenix. Where she lives with her husband, two daughters, and a slew of animals that seem to keep following her home, at least that’s what she claims.
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