Network analyst by day, erotic romance writer by night, Vincent Buonfiglio is dealing with a work-in-progress that has gone colder than winter in his hometown of Ridgely, North Dakota. So what does a man who needs to write hot do to get cranking?

Search out a woman for a night of no-strings sex, of course.

But his choice of partner, Katherine "Kiki" Wyatt, manager of the Quikky Snak Gas & Lube, isn't biting. Flirting over his nightly chili dog is one thing. But a date? Sex? Not happening. Dangerously sexy geeks are off-limits no matter what they might have to offer outside the bedroom.

When an armed gunman changes everything, will deadlines, exes, and mind-blowing sex prove opposites don't always attract, or allow two unlikely lovers to pen a happy ending?


Genre: Comedy romance, contemporary, erotic romance

Heat level: 3
Word count – 63k

Cover art by Mina Carter





~Excerpt~

Vincent shot a glance at Kiki as she strode around the counter, dripping mop in hand. What did she expect to do with that? Blind the guy with soapy water? “Dammit, Kiki.” Gripping her wrist, he yanked her against his side. “Don’t be stupid.”

“He’s right, little girl. You don’t want a piece of this.”

“I’m not a little girl, Mr. Badass-behind-a-toy-gun.” She shook off Vincent’s restraining hand. “And I’m not in the mood to be told what to do.”

“It’s a toy?” Vincent pulled her back despite her warning glance. “How do you know that?”

“Don’t you read the papers? This is the fourth place this punk has hit around here this month.”

The robber glared at her. “If you don’t open that register in the next five seconds, lady, you’re going to need a new hairstyle to cover the hole in your head.”

Fury vibrated through her small frame. “I’ve been held up enough times by you creeps. I’ve had it.” She tightened her hold on the mop. “The register’s staying closed, pal. End of story.”

Even as Vincent grimaced at Kiki’s pseudo-bravado, he reached out to clamp a hand over her mouth. Distracted by her squeaking and flailing, he almost missed the intention in the robber’s panicked gaze.

Shit, shit, shit.

He grabbed Kiki and spun around. Fire exploded in his shoulder just as Kiki’s scream sliced through “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer.”

Not the funeral dirge he’d always imagined, that’s for sure.

“Oh, God, Vincent! Are you okay?”

Was he? He felt oddly calm, though he was pretty sure the muffled popping sound he’d heard above the music hadn’t been Christmas fireworks.

Oddly calm, and really sleepy.

Vincent stared at Kiki, numbly absorbing the horror on her face. Her cheeks so pale. Her eyes so huge. Her pretty pink mouth hanging open as she gawked at his arm. She didn’t make a sound, just stared.

Must be reconsidering sleeping with me. Who turns down a guy in glasses? Especially one who knows exactly where to find a woman’s G-spot?

* * * * * * * * * *

USA Today Bestselling Author Cari Quinn

Cari Quinn wrote her first story—a bible parable—in 2nd grade, much to the delight of the nuns at her Catholic school. Once she saw the warm reception that first tale garnered, she was hooked. She attempted her first romance in junior high, long before she’d ever read one. Writing what she knew always took a backseat to what she wanted to know, and that still holds true today. Cari’s genres of choice include contemporary, romantic comedy and paranormal. Recently she discovered erotic romance. Oh, how far she’s come.