Late Bloomer Excerpt
“Come on, Miss Knight.” His lips formed her name with an impish smile, and he crossed the T with his tongue. “Let me take you to your grandma’s house. I won’t bite. We can catch up. It’s just me. Brody.” Shrugging innocently, he grinned, the naughty but nice boy who’d helped with her audiovisuals.
What was wrong with her? Carolyn could save a lot of money getting a ride from her former student. “Well, why not? Thanks, Brody.”
“Follow me.” Didn’t even wait for an answer. Just moved those hips like Tatum Channing and struck out for the parking garage. Laughing, he crossed three lanes of traffic by holding up a hand. She scurried after him.
Carolyn felt so darned tired, she could hardly see straight. Maybe Brody would do all the talking. Tell her about his four children and beautiful wife. She could zone out along the highway. Take a nap.
Thinking back, Carolyn smiled. He’d hardly been her star student. Had he even read the Cliff Notes for Wuthering Heights?
Well, hello. He may not have read the book but he’d become the book. Brody Wolf had grown up to be Heathcliff. His Hotness without the heath.
The breeze played with his dark hair and more than one woman gave him a second look. Brody took on the dim, cool parking garage as if he owned it. For him, walking involved shoulders, hips and shaggy hair that wouldn’t stay put. The boy oozed rugged masculinity.
Boy? Or man. She was really having trouble. Carolyn patted her snarled hair and tried to keep up.
But Brody didn’t seem concerned about his looks, not with those worn boots, time-softened leather jacket and faded jeans. He wore coolness casually, except for the glasses. His aviator sunglasses added mystery, like he’d just flown in from Morocco or Caracas, with no time to shave. Her imagination ran riot and she almost giggled. Feelings that were definitely not academic rippled through her.
Read more of Late Bloomer at the following stores:
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Apple
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“Come on, Miss Knight.” His lips formed her name with an impish smile, and he crossed the T with his tongue. “Let me take you to your grandma’s house. I won’t bite. We can catch up. It’s just me. Brody.” Shrugging innocently, he grinned, the naughty but nice boy who’d helped with her audiovisuals.
What was wrong with her? Carolyn could save a lot of money getting a ride from her former student. “Well, why not? Thanks, Brody.”
“Follow me.” Didn’t even wait for an answer. Just moved those hips like Tatum Channing and struck out for the parking garage. Laughing, he crossed three lanes of traffic by holding up a hand. She scurried after him.
Carolyn felt so darned tired, she could hardly see straight. Maybe Brody would do all the talking. Tell her about his four children and beautiful wife. She could zone out along the highway. Take a nap.
Thinking back, Carolyn smiled. He’d hardly been her star student. Had he even read the Cliff Notes for Wuthering Heights?
Well, hello. He may not have read the book but he’d become the book. Brody Wolf had grown up to be Heathcliff. His Hotness without the heath.
The breeze played with his dark hair and more than one woman gave him a second look. Brody took on the dim, cool parking garage as if he owned it. For him, walking involved shoulders, hips and shaggy hair that wouldn’t stay put. The boy oozed rugged masculinity.
Boy? Or man. She was really having trouble. Carolyn patted her snarled hair and tried to keep up.
But Brody didn’t seem concerned about his looks, not with those worn boots, time-softened leather jacket and faded jeans. He wore coolness casually, except for the glasses. His aviator sunglasses added mystery, like he’d just flown in from Morocco or Caracas, with no time to shave. Her imagination ran riot and she almost giggled. Feelings that were definitely not academic rippled through her.
Read more of Late Bloomer at the following stores:
Amazon
Apple
Barnes & Noble
Kobo