at 7pm PST.
Samanthe Beck

Author of:
He needs the kind of rescue only she can provide…

Glass artist Savannah Smith expected a marriage proposal for Thanksgiving—just not from her strong, silent, super-hot neighbor. But when misplaced mail and a wayward can of paint lands them in a compromising position right as her family arrives for dinner, they assume he’s “The One” she’s been talking about.

Then his family shows up.

Fate dealt a crippling blow to paramedic Beau Montgomery’s heart, and he isn’t about to put it at risk again. Except, with his mother crying tears of joy over his surprise engagement to the sexy little blonde next door, he can’t bring himself to ruin her “Christmas miracle.”

Somewhere between the paint can to the head and the chaotic family trip to the ER, Beau manages to talk Savannah into being his fake fiancée long enough to survive the holidays.

If, of course, they don’t fall in love first…
“Our families might expect an occasional display of affection.”
His right palm tingled with the phantom weight of her breast, and his left hand twitched at the memory of cupping her tight, round ass. “I’m sure we can muster up something convincing.”
“I don’t know. You’re blushing pretty hard right now just thinking about it.”
The allegedly logical part of his mind insisted she had a point. “You want a demonstration?”
She tipped her face up, shook her hair back, and he caught a flowery hint of shampoo or perfume, or maybe just her drifting under the antiseptic hospital smell.
“A dress rehearsal might be in order. I don’t mean to criticize, but the last time you kissed me, your technique needed work.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he had a strong and unwise desire to trace every curve of her teasing grin with his tongue. See if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else, Smith. We’ve never kissed before.”
“My mom’s got a photo that tells a different story.”
Another small step on her part brought her body flush against his. The move produced a swift inhale from her, and then her eyes rounded at the evidence of what he’d mustered up pressing against her stomach. He found both reactions extraordinarily gratifying. She rested her palms on his chest. Having her hands on him also didn’t suck. “Exactly how old was I in this alleged kissing photo?”
Her gaze traveled over his face and came to rest at his mouth. “Fairly young…and fairly naked. We both were. To be honest, if not for the nudity, I’d have a hard time telling us apart.” She licked her lips.
“Well, brace yourself, Savannah. I’m all grown up, and you’ll know which one is me, even with our clothes on.”

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