Sugar Pie

He’s dying for a taste…

Devin Mackenzie gave up his day off to help out his brother, and you know what they say, No good deed goes unpunished. His punishment comes with pink hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes. Too bad she also has a sassy mouth. Between stealing his car and offering him manpons, she’s upending his entire life but he still can’t help himself. He’s not going to let anyone else get a taste of his sugar pie.

Tricia Denton already got rid of one jerk. She sure isn’t going to take on another one. Even if he is the hottest thing she’s ever seen. She’ll give Devin a run for his money.

You might remember Tricia from Surprise Kisses. She’s starting a new adventure with her best friend in Sweetbriar Colorado.

This over-the-top quick read is just what you're looking for if you like insta-love romance with a little bit of humor.

I’m not sure what put a bee up Mr. Hot Sheriff’s ass, but I’m ready to kill him, and we’ve only been driving thirty minutes. The first time I saw Harden’s younger brother, drool pooled in my mouth. He is one hot specimen, a little taller than Harden and a lot more muscular, too. Man does he have some muscles. From the look of his arms, I think his muscles might have muscles. His well-worn jeans fit his monster thighs and ass like a glove, and I’d love to see the material give up the fight and rip. His windblown brown hair looks effortless, but I’d bet my favorite Louboutins he spent more time on his hair than I did on mine.
Back at the house, I got a peek at some hot dimples, but since we’ve been driving, those little beauties have gone into hiding. I really thought there was a connection between us when our eyes met at Harden’s house, then he looked at me with sheer distaste in his eyes, and my budding feelings died a quick death. Shaking my head, I remind myself he’s another drop-dead gorgeous asshole who thinks us mere mortal women are beneath him. Every time I attempt to start a conversation, he grunts, ending our discussion. “So, do you have a speech impediment?” I finally ask.
“Huh?” Devin’s head whips around briefly, and he blinks several times before he turns back to the road.
I look down at my nails then shrug. “If you do, it’s really not something to be embarrassed about. It happens to a lot of people. They get nervous and start to stutter. I heard you back at Harden’s, and I wondered if that’s why you won’t talk to me.”
He growls—I mean, really, truly growls—before turning and glaring at me. “I don’t have a fucking speech impediment. I just don’t have anything to say to you.”
Well, the jerk didn’t have to be such an asshole. I’m used to dickheads. I was married to the king of all dickheads and swore I’d never let another man treat me badly. This one will learn. “Oh, I get it. You don’t know how to talk to girls.”
Darn, he sucks his breath in so fast, he ends up turning purple and choking on his spit. As I pound on the big baby’s back to save his life, I wonder if I’ll go to prison for manslaughter when the delicate sheriff succumbs to my teasing. Devin manages to jerk the truck over to the side of the road and turns to glare at me. He’s not too intimidating with the tears running down his face.
“Look. You are a pain in my ass that I’d prefer not to deal with today. I’m wasting my entire day off, taking your ass to the fucking airport. The least you could do is shut up and let me have peace and quiet for the ride.”
Yep, another he-man asshole just like my ex-husband. Time to have a little fun. I shake my head and turn to look out the window. I’ll wait a little and let the big jerk breathe a sigh of relief before I really have my fun. We still have a long way to go before we get to the airport.
After another forty minutes or so, I decide it’s time to mess with Devin a little. “So, is it your time of the month?”
There’s the growling and sputtering I’ve come to love during our short period of time together. “What the fuck is wrong with you? A man doesn’t want to flirt and fawn all over you, so you have to insult him and act like a raving bitch?” He isn’t even turning his red face toward me, but the knuckles gripping the steering wheel are white.
Oh. I’ll show you a bitch, Mr. Hot Asshole. “I really need to use the little girl’s room at the next service station, and I’m sure we can get you some manpons.” Oops. I may have pushed my new friend a little too far. I don’t think neck veins are supposed to bulge quite that far. He doesn’t even answer me.