Georgia Guy E-Book

Callie Love

• Herausgeber: More Happily Ever Afters
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

I’m just a normal guy, who lives to ride, until she comes along and ruins everything…

Joe Scott has always considered himself to be an ‘Average Joe.’ The only unique thing about him is his love of riding motorcycles.

Alexandra Morrow is beautiful, confident, obscenely wealthy, and she has a bone to pick with Joe.

When Alex tracks down Joe, she brings a tornado of trouble with her and completely turns Joe’s ordinary world upside down.

Will the sexy motorcycle man be able to handle the heat when sparks fly with the fiery billionairess? Find out in Georgia Guy.

The States of Love books are scorching stories with heat, heart, suspense, and laughter. They feature hunky heroes, strong heroines, seductive instalove, sizzling bedroom scenes, and satisfying happily-ever-after endings. Start anywhere. Binge-read them all. Ride away with Joe and Alexandra’s story now to satisfy your steamy romance craving.

Leseprobe

GEORGIA GUY

A SPICY, ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS, OPPOSITES ATTRACT ROMANCE FEATURING A SEXY BIKER AND A BILLIONAIRE HEROINE

STATES OF LOVE

ANN OMASTA

CALLIE LOVE

CONTENTS

Free Book!

1. Alexandra

2. Joe

3. Alexandra

4. Joe

5. Alexandra

6. Joe

7. Alexandra

8. Joe

9. Alexandra

10. Joe

11. Alexandra

12. Alexandra

13. Joe

14. Alexandra

Epilogue - Alexandra

Hawaii Hottie Sneak Peek - Tori

Let’s stay in touch…

Acknowledgments

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1

ALEXANDRA

I glare at my top-of-the-line MacBook Pro’s screen, almost unable to believe my eyes. My teeth clench together as I read. The more I scroll, the faster my breathing becomes. Even though the words are swirling before my gaze, I know this is bad––really bad.

After slamming the laptop’s lid closed, I pick up the device and rear back to sling it like a Frisbee into the luxurious infinity pool.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Brinkley, my trusty, capable personal assistant glides by and saves the computer. After setting the device well out of my reach, he sits on the edge of my lounge chair and asks, “What’s wrong? Did an online troll blast you for what you wore to last night’s gala? I told you, yellow isn’t your color, my dear.”

“No,” I snap, perturbed at both his guess and the fact that he was right about the color of the dress not suiting me. I look completely washed-out in the photos.

If anyone else dared to speak to me with the brutal honesty, edging on disrespect, that Brinkley uses, he or she would be fired on the spot. But I’ve always had a soft spot for the flamboyant man. Over the years, he has turned into much more than a simple employee. In fact, he’s one of my closest friends.

He picks up my hand and begins massaging my palm. My pent-up tension immediately begins to release. I tip my head back and take a deep, calming breath.

Already feeling better, I say, “If you weren’t gay…”

“I know, I know. I’m a total catch, but I’m not into all of that,” he waves his hands over my middle.

I chuckle at his candor. “Got it.”

When I lift a single, manicured eyebrow in his direction, he immediately picks up on my unsubtle hint and resumes rubbing my hand. “So, what was on the computer screen that has you riled up enough to throw your laptop into the pool?”

I huff out a breath, before answering. “The Atlanta Bugle ran a huge article about my family as their top news story of the day.”

“That doesn’t sound like a problem. There’s no such thing as bad publicity, right?”

I glare over my Gucci sunglasses at him. “There is when they are sharing deep, dark family secrets that we don’t want anyone to know.”

“Ohh… I see.” Brinkley nods his understanding.

I appreciate it that he doesn’t ask me what the secrets are. Granted, I’m sure he’ll look up the blasted article as soon as he’s not with me, but at least for now, he’s keeping his curiosity at bay.

“So, what are we going to do about this?” he asks, already shifting into efficient fix-it mode.

“Well, for starters, I’m going to buy the Bugle and fire anyone who had anything to do with the release of that story,” I say, plotting aloud.

“On it,” he answers, already on his phone sending out instructions.

I love it that whenever I come up with a crazy, outlandish plan, Brinkley immediately sets it into motion and makes it a reality. The man is a true godsend when it comes to getting things done.

He’s still typing furiously with his thumbs when I add, “I also want to find the source, who gave them their information. I paid big bucks to make sure that none of the Morrow family’s personal information was leaked after the Life Chat data breach, so we need to find out who is behind this and how they got their hands on our secrets.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Brinkley tells me, already standing to make some phone calls.

Secure in the knowledge that my assistant will quickly get this sorted out, I decide to go for my evening swim. After diving into the perfectly clear, 88º pool, I let everything else go as I slice through the water.

Once my laps are done, I emerge from the pool, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.

Brinkley holds a large, fluffy towel open for me. As I tie it around my chest, he says, “I found the culprit behind the leak of your family’s secrets.”

I’m beyond impressed that my savvy assistant has already managed to get to the bottom of this. He’s truly the best at his job.

Since I know he’ll appreciate a cash bonus more than my praise, I say in a brisk tone, “Nice work. Tell me.”

He glances at his phone as if he can’t quite believe what he found. “It looks like he’s just an average Joe––literally. His name is Joe Scott. He owns a small motorcycle repair business. He’s single, no kids, his parents are happily married, he has one sister who lives down in the Florida Keys. He doesn’t have an arrest record. He pays his taxes on time. Apparently, his only vice, if you could even call it that, is collecting classic motorcycles that he rides too fast.”

Brinkley’s voice takes on a wistful tone when he turns his phone screen around to show me the man’s picture and says, “If only he were gay…”

Ignoring that last bit, I narrow my eyes at the handsome man’s photo and say, “You’re going to be sorry because you messed with the wrong woman, Average Joe.”

2

JOE

This is my first time in jail, and I’m not a fan. The strip-down and cavity search was the most humiliating experience of my entire life. I certainly don’t intend to stick around here long enough to be transferred to a permanent prison where I would have to form alliances simply to survive.

I stare at the barren cell’s concrete floor, unable to believe that this is my life now. It doesn’t make a lick of sense. I’m a nice guy, who works hard, pays his bills on time, and keeps his head down. I’m not a criminal who should be locked up behind bars.

The only crime I ever commit is riding my motorcycles a bit over the speed limit. Okay, it’s more than a bit, but certainly not enough to land me in prison.

When the cops arrived at my bike repair shop and took me into custody, I almost couldn’t believe my ears as they cuffed me and read off a laundry list of ridiculous, trumped-up charges including everything from tax evasion to obstruction of justice.

I tried telling them I’m innocent and that they must have the wrong person, but their eyerolls made it obvious that they’ve heard those objections many times before.

Although I have no idea what’s going on here, who is out to get me, or why, I’m going to get to the bottom of it. That would ordinarily be tough, since the crotchety, old judge set my bail at the outlandish sum of one million dollars. But I tucked tail and called my kid sister, Emmy.

That call wasn’t quite as physically humiliating as the cavity search, but I would almost rather go through that indignity again than to hear Emmy’s bewildered tone when I asked her to get her super-rich boyfriend to front the money for my bail.

As the older brother, it’s expected that I should be the sibling who has his life together. I want to be the kind of person that Emmy can look up to and strive to emulate, not the person whose calls she has to dodge because I’m asking for handouts.

It couldn’t be helped, though. Business at my repair shop hasn’t been booming lately, so I’ve been forced to take out some significant small business loans to stay afloat. I don’t have the kind of free-and-clear assets needed to provide a guarantee for a bail bondsman.

My parents could have put their house up as collateral, but I decided it was a tiny bit less demeaning to ask Emmy’s new, wealthy boyfriend for the money than to risk my parents’ home.