Trouble, an all-new sexy standalone from Avery Flynn is available NOW!
Bad Boy Homecoming #2
By: Avery Flynn
Releasing June 27th, 2017
A high school reunion is about to get down and dirty and a whole lot more complicated in this new romance from USA Today bestselling author Avery Flynn.
Brains and a badass attitude. That’s all troublemaker Leah Camacho took with her when she left Catfish Creek. She’d promised herself she’d never go back, but when the invite to her tenth high school reunion arrived along with the chance to show everyone who doubted her what a success she’s made of herself, she couldn’t resist. However, when she discovers a 15-carat, stolen diamond in her rental car’s glove box, there’s only one man she can turn to for help—the same sexy, stubborn domineering man who’d smashed her heart all those years ago.
Sheriff Drew Jackson knew a long time ago that Leah Camacho was nothing but trouble and has sworn to never get caught up in her again—no matter how damn sexy she is or how badly he’d failed to forget her. But, when the woman who test drove his heart right into a concrete wall rolls into Catfish Creek with some serious bad guys on her tail, it’s up to him to keep her safe—even if that means guarding her hot bod 24/7 without giving into temptation or losing his mind.
Spinning the wheel as he hit the brakes, he came to a stop behind the sports car at an angle that blocked it from reversing. Drew got out of his truck, keeping the open door between him and the other car and flicked open the leather strap on his hip holster that kept his sheriff's office-issued 9mm locked in place. "Get out of the vehicle," he hollered.
The car's driver's side door opened wide. The first part of the driver to appear was one shapely leg wearing skin-tight denim punctuated with scuffed up black Doc Martens. Some sort of danger alarm sounded in Drew's head, but not the kind that warned of bullets or other bodily danger. A woman got out, facing away from him, her hands up and her dark hair a long silky curtain that led his attention straight down her back to the high curve of her ass poured into those jeans. Parts of him that had no place in police business sat up and noticed. Her 1ass was a testament to the reason why society required women to wear full dresses for so long—because men were weak, lust-addled idiots when it came to asses like the one that looked more than a little familiar to Drew. His gaze snapped back up as his internal alarm went from quiet buzz to all-out blare. He knew that ass, that hair, and those damn boots.
"Turn around," he ordered. She did. Her lush mouth—one he knew far too well—was compressed into a tight line, her attention focused on something behind him. Leah Camacho was back and with her always came trouble—for him, for his sanity, and for the part of him that still thought of her at opportune moments in the shower.
"Drew," she said, making his name sound like a curse and a promise. "Get on the other side of the door."
Listening to Leah Camacho was the last thing he should be doing, but he did it anyway for reasons he didn't understand. Just as he rounded the door, an extended cab pickup truck turned the corner. The tires were big, the windows dark, and the speed was slow. As it puttered by, Drew looked it over and mentally confirmed it didn't belong to any of the usual suspects in Catfish Creek. Of course, the high school reunion was bringing in lots of folks who hadn't been here in a while. At the corner, the truck sped up, peeling away from the stop sign and taking a hard right back toward the highway. "Who was that?" he asked, the smell of burnt rubber drifting back toward them.
"No fucking clue but they've been on my ass for the past hour," she said, reaching up and winding her long hair into a knot on the top of her head—the move emphasizing her amazing tits and making Drew's mouth go dry. "I didn't realize I'd be stopping on your turf." He bet not. After what happened last time they were together, she'd made avoiding him into an art form. However, the fact that he was the law in town, however temporarily, meant avoiding her was an impossibility because wherever Leah Camacho went, trouble was sure to follow. He glanced down at exhibit A.
"What happened to your tire?" he asked. "No clue," she said, her voice tight with a lie.
"I must have run over something." Drew squatted down and took a closer look at the tire. It didn't have a tear, it was just gone as if it had been a blow out. If Leah had run over something big enough to do that, she would have realized it. "What in the hell is going on, Leah?"
About the Author:
Avery Flynn is an award winning, USA Today bestselling romance author. She has three slightly-wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip. She was a reader before she was a writer and hopes to always be both. She loves to write about smartass alpha heroes who are as good with a quip as they are with their *ahem* other God-given talents. Her heroines are feisty, fierce and fantastic. Brainy and brave, these ladies know how to stand on their own two feet and knock the bad guys off theirs.
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