IF YOU CAN STAND THE HEAT,
THERE’S A HOT SINGLE DAD IN THE KITCHEN.
TITLE: Plus One
AUTHOR: Mae Wood
BLURB
If you
can stand the heat, there's a hot single dad in the kitchen.
At not-quite
forty and with his son in his last year of high school, Bert's going to be
dining alone.
His restaurant's wine rep has a few ideas on how he might sate all of his
appetites.
He hasn't been buying what she's been selling, but she’s only in Memphis for a
few months before moving back home to California.
Besides, it's not like he's going to fall in love for the first time in his
life or anything crazy like that, right?
Plus One is a steamy standalone novel.
MY REVIEW
First Off, I am a totally big sucker for the 'single dad' storyline. When I saw the opportunity for cover re-reveal/sales blitz, no words other than "Where do I sign up?" were spoken by yours truly.
Bert is the perfect hot, tatted, alpha males all us romance readers swoon to find. Drennan is the perfect blend of strong, determined yet owns her femininity. Together the chemistry on the pages starts with a slow burn and eventually gets hotter with each page turn. Add PLUS >> Grady is not the typical child to the single dad. But a high school senior ready to be his own man. Some of the best advice came straight from the mouths of babes.
I loved that the author gave us a May/December romance but turned the tables to consider what if one makes the choices that don't seem possible. The tension was just perfect and didn't veer into ridiculously over cute where younger characters can go. Drennan had lived a full life in a short time. Her approach was winner take the hot guy behind the bar!
This was a first time read by Mae Wood and surely will not be my last. It's everything that I look for in an entertaining story. So, yes my hearts & flowers unicorn loving heart was full by the end. I'm now a firm #fangirl and can't wait to read more from this author. 5 out 5 stars
PURCHASE LINKS
Free with Kindle Unlimited | 99c for a Limited
Time
PRAISE FOR PLUS ONE
“I can go on and on about this book. The writing was so witty
and all the food and wine references just made me want to hop on a plane and go
taste some good southern food.” — After
Dark Book Lovers
•
“…if you like Single Dads, good food, all the wine, and
fitness coupled with stellar writing and extremely well-developed characters,
then PLUS ONE IS THE BOOK FOR YOU. So, go ahead, one click
it and enjoy.” — Y’all
This Book
BONUS SCENE
“Angostura
bitters,” he said over his shoulder. “There was a shortage a few years a back,
so I started making my own bitters.” I trailed him around the
restaurant’s kitchen, a puppy in pursuit of a treat.
Ostensibly,
I was here on a sales call, making my rounds at the downtown Memphis
restaurants. Selling wine, taking orders, and moving on to the next restaurant
or bar. But when Pig and Barley popped up on my iPad for today’s call list,
I couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t help but dig around in my closet. No
company-logo’ed polo shirt today.
Boobs.
And
leg.
A
hint of lace.
I
knew what he’d order.
And
knew I’d take it.
Curving
his tall frame over a chopping board, another vintage concert T-shirt thin with
age stretched across his powerful shoulders, he crushed a star anise with the
flat blade of a knife. The meat of his left palm quickly smacking the heavy
blade he held still with his right hand. And I jumped. He’d never spanked me,
and I’d never wanted it. Never wanted to play that way until now.
“Do
you like Absinthe? Or Sambuca?” he asked, the smell of soft black licorice
wafting from the crushed pod. “Because I’m going for a stripped-down version
with this infusion and will then play around with it to make a bitter I can use
in cocktails.”
Flipping
the knife over in his palm, he used the back to scrape the crushed pod into a
glass jar filled with a clear liquid.
“Vodka?
Everclear?” I guessed.
“No. Good ol’ Tennessee moonshine. Don’t ask where I got it.”
“So
many, many good things in Tennessee.”
He
wiped his hands and knife on a neatly folded white towel and placed the knife
to the side of the cutting board, parallel and just so. His deliberate
moves were instinctual when he sought out pleasure, whether from his food, his
cocktails, or from me.
“So
this is a sales call?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Drennan,”
he said with a smile while he folded his arms across his chest, drawing out my
name like I was a naughty child. The three birds on his forearm fluttered from
the muscle movement, and my hand ached to touch his inked flesh. “Who else are
you calling on today?”
“Flight
and a few other places.”
“Tight
schedule?” he asked.
“I could work you in,” I replied, taking a step
toward him and walking my fingertips along the top of the shiny steel work
surface, trying to be cool while the heat built inside of me. Fighting to
keep my itchy fingers to myself.
“Oh,
you’ll make room.”
“Here?”
I whispered, looking into his chocolate and caramel eyes. Even though it
was the two of us in the kitchen, the restaurant’s general manager was working
in the broom closet of an office just a few feet away.
“Uhm,
did I not hear you say hi to Patti on your way back here? And she’s
interviewing a couple potential new servers,” he said, quickly flicking his
wrist to glance at his heavy silver dive watch, “about now, I think.”
I
ran through options, scenarios, my brain fizzing from the thought of sliding my
skin against his. “Just how big is the back seat in your monster of an SUV?”
“It’s
still got my bike in in from yesterday. But hold on,” he said.
He
pulled the phone out of his back pocket and tapped on the screen. I stepped
closer to him, sliding my hands to my waist and then up, pressing my breasts
together. His eyes fell on my cleavage, and his Adam’s apple worked in
appreciation, his lips softening with want while his jaw tightened with need.
“Man,
don’t ask any questions. Just say that I can borrow a conference room. I’ll be
there in three minutes.” One hand shoved the phone back into his jeans
and the other grabbed one of mine, lacing our fingers together, and he pulled
me through the kitchen and the restaurant and onto the street.
“Conference
room?” I asked, my legs spinning to match his long stride and quick pace as he
tugged me down the bustling sidewalk.
“Yeah,
be cool, okay?”
A
few blocks later he blew through a glass door into a simple lobby. The
Brannon Company shone in bold brass letters behind the receptionist desk.
“Mr.
Forsythe?” asked a thin brunette from behind her big bangs.
“Jenny,
right? Trip said—“
“Yes,
sir. We’ve got a conference room ready. Will anyone else be joining you?”
He’s
taking me to his friend’s office to fuck? At ten a.m. on a Monday?
“Just
us,” he said, not loosening his grip on my hand.
Jenny’s
eyes moved to me. Taking me in from head to the tips of my nude heels and
I felt my boldness begin to slip. I turned to Bert, to gauge his
reaction. Yeah. No shame. His eyes fixed on the elevator bank ahead
of us. The temperature of our frantic walk over pressed beneath this cool
facade.
With
a nod at me, Jenny led the way to the conference room. Keeping up the
charade that we were here on some sort of business, I sank into an overstuffed
chair at the large oak table, my back to the wall of windows. I grabbed a
notepad and pen from the table and began doodling.
“If
you need anything, Mr. Forsythe, please call reception and ask for me.”
“Thanks,
Jenny,” he said.
“Of
course. Have a good meeting,” she replied. When the heavy door to the
conference room clicked shut behind her, my laughter burst to the surface.
“You
cool with this?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting in amusement, as he tugged his
shirt over his head, exposing his lean body with Ganesh inked in black wrapping
around his right side.
“Depends,”
I answered, not looking up from my notes. “What did you have in mind?”
“What
did you have in mind when you decided to wear that to my restaurant?”
“Wear
what?” I said, tilting my head and slowly blinking my big blue eyes at him.
“Come
on, Dren,” he begged, the exasperation at my little game eating away at his
patience.
“That,”
I said, using the pen to point to the hard ridge in his jeans. “I was
planning on coming on that.”
“Were
you now?” he said, the irritation vanished.
“Yes,
in fact, here’s the agenda,” I said, tossing the notepad toward him where it
landed on the table.
“Are
you serious?” He blinked at me and I again looked away, enjoying playing
coy for once.
“We’ve
got like ten minutes tops before Trip breaks this up.”
“Well,
I suggest we move right to the action items, then,” I said, pointing at the
paper.
His
eyes rolled to the ceiling before he snatched up the notepad. “This is a
drawing of a dick.”
“Yeah,
I know. The agenda’s really meaty,” I said, examining the pen I twirled between
my fingers.
“Ten.
Minutes,” he repeated, a solid tap on the notepad punctuating each word.
“Do
I hear a motion from the floor? I bet they says things like that in here,
don’t they?” I said, finally turning my attention to him.
“The
only motion I want from you is your ass out of that chair.”
“All
in favor?” I asked, scanning the empty room for a response.
“Christ,”
he said, scrubbing a hand over his face and rounding the table toward me. “I’m
in favor. Let’s get down to business.”
The
chair spun and he leaned down in front of me, his hands dipping into my hair to
bracket my head. “You want my dick?” he whispered in my ear, the scruff on his
face abrading my cheek.
I nodded as best I could in response, my teeth tugging on my lip as I let loose
a soft whimper of need.
My
hands explored the muscles of his shoulders. My fingernails dug in,
biting flesh, and my answer to his question escaping me in a slow hiss of
desire. His belt and fly open, I leaned forward to shove his jeans and
boxers over his hips, so I could get my hands on his bare ass. I loved
the way the heels of my hands fit into the indentations at his hips while my
fingers grasped firm muscle.
His
hands shoved up my skirt, running his hands along the tops of my thighs with a
friction that made me melt. Thumbs stroked in tandem at the hinge of my hips
and I went to open for him, but was bound by the chair’s arms.
He
pressed my hips into the chair. “Patience, patience.”
“Ten
minutes,” I bit out.
“He’s
not going to open the door,” he replied, his warm hands sliding between my
exposed ass and the chair to scoop me up and place me on the cool tabletop. “No
one is. We could have this room all day. But I want you now.”
His
hands returned to reach underneath my skirt, and my panties were yanked down. I
could feel soft pops as his impatient fingers shredded the lace. “Sorry,” he
muttered into my neck.
“Only
apologize if you stop,” I replied.
“Quick
pause okay? Not a stop.” He backed up, fished a condom out of his wallet and
returned to me suited up. Strong and hard and proud. I pulled my feet to
rest on the table and dropped my knees open for him. Opened for all of the city
of Memphis beyond the wall of windows that was behind him.
Shameless
for him.
Ready
for him.
Needy
for him.
I
reached for him and, with a push, he found me. His hands once again
gripping my ass and lifting me, holding me close, as he continued to thrust
from below. “Drennan, Drennan, Drennan.” I knew this chant, mumbled
against my lips and neck. The simple incantation of my name so filled
with need and promise. The words that reduced the world to me and him. To
this moment.
Coolness
the length of my back snapped me out of the trance. “The window?”
“You
want that?” he asked, nuzzling his scruff along my jaw. “I’ll put it on the
agenda for our next meeting. But I don’t trust any glass for how hard I’m going
to pound into you.”
Then
I heard it—a door, banging on its hinges. “You’re not going to get invited
back,” I said.
“Like
I give a fuck. Come back to me. Here. Now.” My fingers tugged at his
hair, fusing his mouth with mine.
A
deep dive and rock against my clit and I was gone again. So gone for this man.
ALSO AVAILABLE IN THE PIG
& BARLEY SERIES
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mae Wood is a mommy, bookworm, and lawyer (in that order).
A while ago Mae decided that she needed to give up the fear
that she couldn't write "great literature" and write what she wants
to read.
And she wants romance. And laughter.
She wants heroines who are brave. Brave enough to be
themselves and brave enough to fall in love.
She wants men who are strong and kind.
Mae lives in the Southeastern United States.
AUTHOR LINKS
Posts
