Love
Crazy
Welcome to Spartan Series
By Ashley Lyn
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: January 10, 2017
Alice
I shot him with
my paintball gun.
It was instant
lust, the moment I caught sight of his tattoos, well-muscled body, and cocky
grin. However, it was ass over tea kettle love the minute that sexy bastard
brought me coffee and a bacon wrapped donut.
I fell hard, and
I loved every minute of it.
I was lucky
enough to grow up in Spartan, but I’d been contemplating a move to somewhere
more populated. Lucky for me, Luke moved here and showed me how awesome it is
to meet someone who’s crazy matches your own.
It’s not all
unicorns and rainbows, when an unwanted blast from my past blows into town, and
tries knocking me off my pedestal of awesomeness.
Luke
She didn’t shoot
me. She missed by a good ten feet.
I fell in love
with her the minute I caught sight of her cute little ass in a big pair of
flowered granny panties. I tell her it was her pretty eyes, and gorgeous red
hair, but really, it was the underwear.
Moving to
Spartan was the best decision I’d ever made. I never thought I would meet the
love of my life when I moved to this small town.
The people who
live here take a bit of getting used to. They sometimes forget what appropriate
clothing is, and will use any excuse to party.
I wish I could
say that everything followed the fairy tale path, but people intrude, and bring
the devil with them.
Embrace your
crazy, and enjoy your time in our comical, but absurd little town. Welcome to
Spartan!
I swear the
pounding in my head is audible. Confusion settles in as I realize that someone
is pounding on my door.
“Go the fuck
away.”
“Wake up,
sunshine. We have to have our proper introduction, and it’s noon.”
The events of
last night flash behind my closed eyes, and it feels like fire ants are pouring
out of the top of my head and sweeping down my body in a painful wave. Lifting
my comforter I look down, and I’m still in my boots and panties. Maybe if I
just stay still, he’ll go away.
“I’m not going
away, so you might as well get that sexy little ass out of bed. I brought
coffee and donuts.”
Coffee? Donuts?
That’s almost incentive enough to drag my tired ass out of bed. Almost, but not
quite.
“Let's go,
Rambo. I’m giving you thirty seconds, then I’m coming in.”
Pounding. That’s
what exists right now. My eyes crack open, and a streak of sunlight stabs me in
the eye. I moan and roll over, jerking my comforter over my head.
“FUUUUCCKKKK!”
I hear him
chuckle, and I flip my comforter back. I jerk my boots off and throw on my big
fluffy robe before stomping out into the living room. I unlock the door and
fling it open. My jaw comes unhinged, and I give a valiant effort to work up
the proper amount of lust for the shirtless god standing there.
My cheeks pink
up and I close the door, slamming it in his face. I can’t do this today,
seriously. I glance over, into the mirror next to the door, and want to cry. My
bright red hair is sticking up all over the place. I grab a beanie and slide it
on, ready to try this again. Opening the door, I try to channel my inner queen,
but I stumble with as much grace as my tired, hungover body can manage as I
slide down the porch column to sit down on the top step.
He hands me a
donut and a tear leaks out when I see the bacon on top. Bacon makes everything
better, and that goes for donuts as well. He hands me the coffee and sits next
to me.
I give him the
side-eye, looking at him as covertly as possible. He just sits there, looking
out at the ocean view as he drinks his own nectar of the gods. Taking my own
sip, I moan as the caffeinated deliciousness slides down my gullet.
In the daylight,
he looks nothing like my husband Jason Momoa. He has sandy blond hair that’s
shaved on the sides with the top long, flopping over to one side. His right arm
is decorated with a multitude of bright tattoos. He has muscles upon muscles,
with a nicely haired chest. His nose is fucked—broken way too many times—but
sexy nonetheless. His mirrored aviators hide his eyes from me, and I thank God
for that small mercy. He seems like the type to have pools for eyes, and I
really can’t afford to drown in those right now.
“My name is Ali,
by the way, or Alice. Whichever one you prefer.”
He leans back
against the railing and gives me his full attention, which is
disconcerting.
“My name is
Luke.” He holds out his hand and I take it. His warm, calloused fingers slide over
mine, and I clamp my lips shut. Moaning like a cat in heat would give away a
lot more than I want to, so I lock that shit down.
He grins.
Apparently, I’m not fooling anyone.
Ashley Lyn lives
in Colorado with her amazing hubby that she met on match.com. She has two
beautiful daughters, a crazy Boxer named Bailey, a Fat Cat named Mojo, and a
sweet as apple pie calico cat named Katy.
She is a
passionate reader who loves to read any and all genres. A good book, a cozy
blanket and piping hot cup of coffee is her idea of a good time. She loves to
write quirky, funny, sexy, and eccentric characters who have zero problems
flying their crazy flags.
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