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Blame It On The Kiss
The one guy she shouldn’t want…
Honor Mitchell has lived with guilt and regret for a long time, so when she promises to do the things on her dying best friend’s wish list, she’s determined to follow through and do something right for a change. But when she’s thrown together for wedding duties with the one man who complicates her vow–just by looking at him–she has to put her faith in Bryce Bishop’s pledge to help her, no strings attached.
Bryce’s near one-night stand with his ex-girlfriend’s best friend a few months ago might have been a mistake, but helping the beautiful, free-spirited Honor with her promise isn’t. His trust in women is shot, but he can’t help but play his best man card to his advantage and help Honor tick off the items on his ex’s list, even if it puts him in a no-win situation. Because his assistance might get Honor what she wants, but suddenly being the do-good guy puts his plans–and heart–in serious jeopardy.
About the Author: When not attached to her laptop, USA Today Bestselling Author Robin Bielman can almost always be found with her nose in a book. A California girl, the beach is her favorite place for fun and inspiration. Her fondness for swoon-worthy heroes who flirt and stumble upon the girl they can’t live without jumpstarts all of her story ideas. She is a 2014 RITA Finalist, loves to frequent coffee shops, and plays a mean game of sock tug of war with her cute, but sometimes naughty dog, Harry. She cherishes her family and friends and loves to connect with readers.
Honor slowed her steps to enjoy the quiet morning and pulled her first fritter from the bag. Still early, the shops were silent, and she gazed into the windows as she walked and ate. She crossed over Bluff, glancing south to the sea, dustings of sunshine sparkling off the water a few blocks away.
Two more fritters, another block. The sun grew more insistent. A car horn sounded, drawing her attention to the street. Dylan, Cooper’s best friend, waved from his beat-up convertible and shouted, “Hey, Honorlicious.”
“Hey, Dylan. Keep your eyes on the road.”
He saluted and she turned to watch him drive off. Duct tape covered his right taillight and a black and white “Be Excellent to Each Other” bumper sticker with a picture of Abe Lincoln helped hide chipped paint. She smiled, dug out another fritter, this one loaded with powdered sugar, and whirled back around.
Where she collided with a hard chest, inhaled the powdered sugar, and proceeded to cough in a fit of chokehold proportions.
One big warm hand wrapped around her upper arm. A second hand patted her back. He said something, but she couldn’t make it out since she was about to hack up a lung. She knew his voice, though. And his delicious smell. His hands stayed put until she finally quieted down.
Through watery eyes, she glanced up at her roadblock. His gray T-shirt had coffee stains splattered across it. And… she sucked in her bottom lip… fan-fritter-tastic, she’d spit up on him, too.
She moved her almost-empty coffee cup to her other hand and wiped away the evidence of her spew. Mortified and at a loss for words, she kept right on rubbing his chest like a total lunatic.
And because he had a really nice chest. It distracted her from the apology that finally landed on the tip of her tongue.
“You done?” Bryce’s deep, sexy voice brought her back to her senses. What the heck was she doing?
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. I’ll buy you a new shirt, or clean this one.” She finally met his amused, and also very amiable, eyes. “Fritter?” She held up the bag.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I was reading a text and not watching where I was walking. You okay?”
They stared at each other for several super-charged seconds before he took the bag and looked inside. “There’s only one left.”
“It’s all yours.” No way did she plan to put any more fritter near her mouth.
He pulled the baked treat out and took a bite. She watched him like he’d been coated in powdered sugar, too, and she wanted to lick it off him. Not good. Sooo not good. She looked away, reminding herself she was behaving like the worst kind of friend.