Summer kissed his lips to steal a taste
Jackson possessed a full, soft mouth for a man of such chiseled features and hard angles. Her eyelids fell shut, heightening the sensations of his kiss. The warm whiskey taste of him intoxicated her, made her even bolder.
Splaying a hand across his broad chest beneath his jacket, she absorbed the feel of starched cotton and warm muscle through his white dress shirt. Her fingertips itched to cover more ground, to explore the terrain of the rock-hard abs currently plastered against her. To follow the silky path of his tie to the leather of his belt then and dip lower still….
He deepened their kiss, delving into her mouth to join them further. Summer closed her eyes more tightly against the onslaught of heat, the tingly wave of needy sensation that tripped through her whole body. As his tongue probed hers, an answering shock wave pulsed through her.
She had to have this man…now.
Dear Reader,
Have you ever met a guy in an unusual manner? Maybe accepted a date with someone you wouldn’t have considered before, because his approach was just too standout to ignore? Jackson Taggart really wants to meet Summer Farnsworth in Girl’s Guide to Hunting & Kissing, and he’s not willing to trot out the stale old pick-up lines for an introduction. Would you say yes to a man who tried his tactics?
Welcome back to South Beach for the second book in my new series! Now that Brianne and Aidan have embarked on their happily-ever-after— Sex & The Single Girl, Blaze #104—ambiance coordinator Summer Farnsworth is starting to feel the tug of dissatisfaction with the lack of eligible men in her life. But can she date a guy who needs to play by the rules all the time? Of course, she might find it hard to resist a man as determined as Jackson to get what he wants.
If you enjoy Girl’s Guide to Hunting & Kissing, I hope you’ll join me for next month’s SINGLE IN SOUTH BEACH story. One Naughty Night will be a November Temptation title, #951, and we’ll finally get the scoop on Giselle Cesare’s sexy older brother, Renzo. Visit me at www.JoanneRock.com to learn more about my future releases or to let me know what you think about the series so far!
Happy reading,
Joanne Rock
Girl’s Guide To Hunting & Kissing
Joanne Rock
For Michele Goes, my childhood friend who always encouraged me to tell stories with a happy ending.
From our Barbie scenarios to our bedtime stories, we wanted the women to triumph! Thank you, Michele, for helping me to realize a dream. I wish you every happiness.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
1
Let the hunt begin…
BREASTS BOUNCED in every direction on the dance floor of the Moulin Rouge Lounge. The hottest new nightclub on South Beach overflowed with women dressed in clothes that would be at home on the beach as much as the bar scene—halter tops, plunging necklines and enough Lycra to clothe the U.S. swim team well into the next decade.
Despite the dazzling display of feminine flesh highlighted by flashing blue strobe lights, attorney Jackson Taggart wasn’t looking for breasts. Other guys might get caught up in cup sizes or long legs, but for his first venture into Miami’s decadent nightlife in nearly a year, Jackson narrowed his focus to one thing.
Tonight, he’d sell his soul for the woman with the right…mouth.
In an effort to forget the hell his private life had become over the last few weeks, he watched women of every shape and size flirt, dance and sip brightly colored drinks from the Moulin Rouge’s signature bar glasses featuring the frilly panties of a cancan girl with long, stocking clad legs.
He had a certain woman in mind, a woman unlike any he’d ever been with before. A bedroom goddess who didn’t give a damn about his well-known family or the scandal of the decade in which they were currently ensnared.
Flagging a brunette bartender dressed in a uniform of silky white lingerie, Jackson started to request his standard imported beer and stopped himself. The hunt for a wild bedroom goddess at least deserved a shot of whiskey. His order given, he settled in for the search, eager to engage in anything that didn’t involve damage control in the media, angry family shouting matches and an ever-looming pressure to enter a cutthroat state legislature race.
Damn.
Tossing back his whiskey, he concentrated on a single, simple task.
Finding the right mouth.
He scanned the crowd and found…pink bubblegum lips. Nah. Too sweet for what he had in mind. And even worse, too much like his ex-girlfriend.
Sparkly gold lips. High-maintenance diva—not a chance.
Bright-red lips looked wild enough, but broadening his visual scan he noted that the pale face and solid black outfit looked a bit Goth. Too moody.
None of those mouths pointed to the kind of woman he needed to find. But he had no intention of going home unfulfilled. Not this time.
Then he spied them.
The deep, rich muted burgundy that was neither too red nor too purple. Soft, full lips that suggested lush sensuality. A lack of shiny lip gloss made for a mouth that was at once kissable and not too self-conscious.
Bingo.
Jackson flung a bill across the bar to pay for his drink, scarcely noticing the glass-encased waterfall behind the throng of busy bartenders. Already on the move, he followed the woman who had caught his attention as she turned away and headed toward the back of the room.
From the brief glimpse he’d snagged of her face, he acknowledged she was uncommonly pretty. Still, he had a vague impression of her being a little unusual. Something about the odd mix of fabrics in her rosy-hued dress with the ragged hem maybe, or the wavy flaxen mermaid hair decorated with scattered thin braids that looked to be…pink?
He caught up with her just inside the bar’s back room—a decadent lounge ringed with private, curtained booths. She met a tall woman with auburn hair and kick-ass legs dressed in an unadorned, steel-gray cat suit. He didn’t bother checking out her lips. He’d already found perfection.
Straying closer to their position near a scaled-down minibar, Jackson didn’t necessarily mean to overhear them. They shouted over the music, making it nearly impossible not to hear them. Especially considering he loomed just a few feet away.
“No luck with the manhunt?” the auburn-haired woman asked between sips of a green drink. Margarita, maybe.
The blonde shook her head and rolled her eyes. She was as expressive as the redhead was reserved. “Every guy I’ve met here has been too forward,