"a delicious bite of Southern seduction with chemistry that sizzles."
- Rebecca Yarros
GOOD GIRL
a Love Unexpectedly novel
Lauren Layne
Released May 17th, 2016
Loveswept
New York Times BESTSELLER • Lauren Layne brings all the unpredictable heat
of Blurred Lines to
an all-new cast of characters! Country music’s favorite good girl is hiding
away from the world—only to find herself bunking with a guy who makes her want
to be a little bad.
Jenny Dawson moved to Nashville to write music,
not get famous. But when her latest record goes double platinum, Jenny’s
suddenly one of the town’s biggest stars—and the center of a tabloid scandal
connecting her with a pop star she’s barely even met. With paparazzi tracking
her every move, Jenny flees to a remote mansion in Louisiana to write her next
album. The only hiccup is the unexpected presence of a brooding young caretaker
named Noah, whose foul mouth and snap judgments lead to constant bickering—and
serious heat.
Noah really should tell Jenny that he’s Preston
Noah Maxwell Walcott, the owner of the estate where the feisty country singer
has made her spoiled self at home. But the charade gives Noah a much-needed
break from his own troubles, and before long, their verbal sparring is
indistinguishable from foreplay. But as sizzling nights give way to quiet
pillow talk, Noah begins to realize that Jenny’s almost as complicated as he
is. To fit into each other’s lives, they’ll need the courage to face their
problems together—before the outside world catches up to them.
Noah
“What
time did you say this chick was arriving?” Finn asks around his
cigarette.
“Tomorrow
morning,” I say, rapping my toe against a funny-looking floorboard
and wincing when it buckles.
“Huh.”
Finn exhales and looks out the window.
I
know that tone. “What?”
“Seems
she might have gotten here early,” he says, a second before the
quiet afternoon erupts with the sound of my dog losing his mind,
mingled with the shrill piercing yap of a much smaller dog.
“Seriously?”
Finn
shrugs and nods. “There’s a girl outside.”
“Shit,”
I mutter as I head toward the stairs, dodging the two broken ones.
Ranger’s
about as good a dog as they come, wouldn’t hurt a fly. But he’s a
big dog with a big bark, and one serious weakness: gleefully humping
smaller dogs. He’s a rescue, and though he was fixed after they
brought him in, he’d already gone through canine puberty, or
whatever. He’s still got the fierce urge to hump, although it’s
more habit than hormones.
I
exit out the front door just in time to see my big brown Lab leap
forward, his clumsy paws finding the shoulders of a blond girl who
lets out a shriek, holding a cat above her head like that scene from
The
Lion King.
“Ranger,
no! Down.”
I
run forward, my hand finding the collar of my dog and yanking him
backward as I search the ground to find the source of the small-dog
barks still piercing the air.
Then
I register that the sound is coming from above, and realize . . .
The
cotton ball isn’t a cat.
That
orange piece of fluff is a dog,
and Ranger
is
apparently in love.
“What
the heck is wrong with your dog?” the girl says as she slowly
lowers the puffball from over her head, cradling the hideous little
monster against her chest as it continues its high-pitched
bloody-murder yips.
“At
least my dog is actually a dog,” I say, staring in horror at the
pointy face of a canine that could fit in one of my hands. “I’ve
seen dust bunnies bigger than that thing.”
“Dolly’s
a Pomeranian,” she says, setting a hand on top of the monster’s
head. “She’s supposed to be this tiny.”
“Well,
Ranger’s a Lab. He’s supposed to be this normal.”
“He
attacked me,” she says, giving Ranger a wary look as his tongue
hangs out the side of his mouth, his eyes locked lovingly on Dolly.
“He
didn’t want you,
he wanted the . . . dog,” I say, forcing myself to acknowledge that
the creature in her hands might be part of the canine family.
“For
what, dinner?”
I
don’t respond, because now that the crisis is averted, I’ve
managed to shift my attention from the dogs to the girl, and . . .
Holy
shit.
I’m
not sure I’ve ever been sucker-punched by equal waves of lust and
disdain before.
Jenny
Dawson is hot as hell.
I
knew that going in, but up close she’s even more mouthwatering. Her
white skirt is short and tight, her legs long and toned.
She’s
wearing some billowing pink top, so I can’t get a good look at
what’s happening there, but it doesn’t really matter. I’ve
always been a legs man, and I can’t stop looking.
The
legs are a 10.
The
face is a 10.
And
the long blond hair spilling over one shoulder definitely begs to be
spread over a man’s pillow. My pillow.
And
yet even as my cock says yes, my brain is saying
hell no.
Gorgeous
as she is, she screams diva from the pink toenails to the sky-high
stiletto sandals and all the way up to the carefully made-up face.
I
just turned my entire life upside down trying to get away from a
woman exactly like this one, so this is definitely a look,
don’t touch situation.
But
I’m looking. I’m definitely looking.
ON SALE .99 CENTS
Lauren
Layne is the New York Times bestselling author
of more than a dozen romantic comedies. She lives in New York City with her
husband (who was her high school sweetheart--cute, right?!) and plus-sized
Pomeranian.
In
2011, she ditched her corporate career in Seattle to pursue a full-time writing
career in Manhattan, and never looked back.
In her
ideal world, every stiletto-wearing, Kate Spade wielding woman would carry a
Kindle stocked with Lauren Layne books.
For a
list of all her works, please be sure to check out her official website!
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