Goats solve their differences head-on. They don’t give the silent treatment or yell, they butt heads, and then it’s over.Cowboy Marvin has learned humans resolve issues differently especially those romantically involved. His curiosity sparked, he has invited authors to stop by on Fridays and share the first fight out of their latest book.
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Jane Linfoot
is here for ...
is here for ...
First Fight Friday
with a scene from
The Right Side of Mr. Wrong
She’s seizing the moment -- He’s breaking the rules
When bad boys can be so much fun who can resist getting on
The Right Side of Mr. Wrong
When bad boys can be so much fun who can resist getting on
The Right Side of Mr. Wrong
firstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfri
‘Brando, you can’t park here, you’re on double yellow lines!’
Brando reeled at the speed of her reaction as he pulled up at the kerb in what seemed to him, little more than a village, but what passed in these parts for a town.
She was onto him before he’d even turned the engine off, dammit.
‘All part of the fun of being a playboy! I park where I like, and my PA pays the fines later! Lets face it, the absence of tow-trucks for bad parkers is the only upside to life in the sticks.’ He sent her an unrepentant smirk, expecting that to be the end of it, but she rapped straight back at him.
‘Grow up, Brando! There’s a car park the other side of the wall. Stop behaving like a child and go and park there!’
Who the hell went postal over something as minor as double yellows? She was reminding him more and more of Bry here, and not in a good way. But her exasperated cry slapped him into action, and before he knew it he was manoeuvring carefully into the centre of a marked parking bay.
‘Control freak comes out of the closet, or what? That good enough for you, Shea-rhymes-with-do-what-I-say?’ He hoped his query was mocking enough to hide his inner shock.
Since when had he done what some woman ordered him to? And what’s more he’d done so without so much as a question. Hell, he’d offered no resistance whatsoever. He’d just obeyed. Sure, the image he liked to portray was laid-back and cool, but ultimately, beneath the chilled veneer he was always the one in control.
‘For future reference, I’m the one who gives out the instructions round here. I have a converted warehouse full of employees in London, who all answer to me. They do it because I’m the one who puts my head on the block, I’m the one who takes all the risks. I’m the boss, dammit, I don’t take ‘do as you’re told’ from anyone, and that includes you!’ He tapped the steering wheel, hoping he’d made his point.
‘Sorry Brando, but if you behave like a complete jerk, I will tell you.’
There she was again. Straight back, fighting. And she was so sexy when she did. There was definitely something different about this woman and the game she was playing. He just hadn’t quite worked out what it was yet. She was fumbling in the footwell for her bag now.
‘Are you going to mess around all day there, or are we going for lunch?’ Annoyance merged with frustration, leeching through his impatient bark, and he thought he caught a flicker of consternation on her face, but when she turned to him she was smiling a winning, confident smile.
‘One minute for lip gloss, then I’m all good!’
‘Lip gloss!’ He gave a double groan. The first, a small one, for the high-maintenance women he dated, and their preening, make-up laden lives, which he had so far managed to steer admirably clear of, the second, a larger, full-blown, shudder as he thought of the taste of her lips when he’d kissed her.
That kiss.
The thought of it sent an ocean tide roaring through his ears. However she’d tried to dismiss it, he knew she’d been kissing him back, kissing him hard, kissing him like a demon.
Damn women, damn their lip gloss!
As he slammed his car door, he was aware of her on the other side of the car’s low roof, unfolding, smoothing her jeans, stretching.
‘Almost there!’ She sent him a half mocking smile with the merest hint of apology.
The sheer anticipation of the moment when she pulled her jumper down tight over her jutting breasts had already sent his blood pounding downwards, and suddenly he knew the reason for his unbearably wound-up state, the reason this morning’s free running had offered him no release.
It was her. And the problem was simple. She was racking his desire to levels he was failing to handle.
The more time he spent with her, the more his already heightened libido was rocketing to crazy places. He cursed himself for neglecting the sexual side of his life over the last few months. Not that he’d actually thought about it much. Maybe he was getting old, maybe he was just too busy, but however hot the sex, somewhere along the line, the faceless repetition had ceased to thrill him. Perhaps if he’d given it more priority, he wouldn’t be in this state now.
So much for his boasts about being wild and bad.
He couldn’t particularly remember a time when he’d had this exact sense of urgency before, but he knew for sure there was only one answer to the immediate problem.
He needed to bed Shea Summers, and he needed to do it fast.
Copyright © Jane Linfoot
firstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfri
The Right Side Of Mr Wrong by Jane Linfoot
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One-off, moving on sex wasn’t meant to be this hot…
When determined singleton Shea Summers is persuaded to become the “wife” of the Lord of Edgerton Manor, the last thing she wants to do is play house with a stranger.
Brooding playboy Brando Marshall, is far from happy when Shea turns up at his sprawling estate with production crew in tow. Surely she’s just another woman after his wallet?
And if she’s looking for Mr Right, she’s definitely hitting on the wrong guy. Then again, after catching an unscheduled glimpse of her knickers, perhaps Brando needs to teach this “gold-digger” a lesson!
Brando reeled at the speed of her reaction as he pulled up at the kerb in what seemed to him, little more than a village, but what passed in these parts for a town.
She was onto him before he’d even turned the engine off, dammit.
‘All part of the fun of being a playboy! I park where I like, and my PA pays the fines later! Lets face it, the absence of tow-trucks for bad parkers is the only upside to life in the sticks.’ He sent her an unrepentant smirk, expecting that to be the end of it, but she rapped straight back at him.
‘Grow up, Brando! There’s a car park the other side of the wall. Stop behaving like a child and go and park there!’
Who the hell went postal over something as minor as double yellows? She was reminding him more and more of Bry here, and not in a good way. But her exasperated cry slapped him into action, and before he knew it he was manoeuvring carefully into the centre of a marked parking bay.
‘Control freak comes out of the closet, or what? That good enough for you, Shea-rhymes-with-do-what-I-say?’ He hoped his query was mocking enough to hide his inner shock.
Since when had he done what some woman ordered him to? And what’s more he’d done so without so much as a question. Hell, he’d offered no resistance whatsoever. He’d just obeyed. Sure, the image he liked to portray was laid-back and cool, but ultimately, beneath the chilled veneer he was always the one in control.
‘For future reference, I’m the one who gives out the instructions round here. I have a converted warehouse full of employees in London, who all answer to me. They do it because I’m the one who puts my head on the block, I’m the one who takes all the risks. I’m the boss, dammit, I don’t take ‘do as you’re told’ from anyone, and that includes you!’ He tapped the steering wheel, hoping he’d made his point.
‘Sorry Brando, but if you behave like a complete jerk, I will tell you.’
There she was again. Straight back, fighting. And she was so sexy when she did. There was definitely something different about this woman and the game she was playing. He just hadn’t quite worked out what it was yet. She was fumbling in the footwell for her bag now.
‘Are you going to mess around all day there, or are we going for lunch?’ Annoyance merged with frustration, leeching through his impatient bark, and he thought he caught a flicker of consternation on her face, but when she turned to him she was smiling a winning, confident smile.
‘One minute for lip gloss, then I’m all good!’
‘Lip gloss!’ He gave a double groan. The first, a small one, for the high-maintenance women he dated, and their preening, make-up laden lives, which he had so far managed to steer admirably clear of, the second, a larger, full-blown, shudder as he thought of the taste of her lips when he’d kissed her.
That kiss.
The thought of it sent an ocean tide roaring through his ears. However she’d tried to dismiss it, he knew she’d been kissing him back, kissing him hard, kissing him like a demon.
Damn women, damn their lip gloss!
As he slammed his car door, he was aware of her on the other side of the car’s low roof, unfolding, smoothing her jeans, stretching.
‘Almost there!’ She sent him a half mocking smile with the merest hint of apology.
The sheer anticipation of the moment when she pulled her jumper down tight over her jutting breasts had already sent his blood pounding downwards, and suddenly he knew the reason for his unbearably wound-up state, the reason this morning’s free running had offered him no release.
It was her. And the problem was simple. She was racking his desire to levels he was failing to handle.
The more time he spent with her, the more his already heightened libido was rocketing to crazy places. He cursed himself for neglecting the sexual side of his life over the last few months. Not that he’d actually thought about it much. Maybe he was getting old, maybe he was just too busy, but however hot the sex, somewhere along the line, the faceless repetition had ceased to thrill him. Perhaps if he’d given it more priority, he wouldn’t be in this state now.
So much for his boasts about being wild and bad.
He couldn’t particularly remember a time when he’d had this exact sense of urgency before, but he knew for sure there was only one answer to the immediate problem.
He needed to bed Shea Summers, and he needed to do it fast.
Copyright © Jane Linfoot
firstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfridayfirstfightfri
The Right Side Of Mr Wrong by Jane Linfoot
When determined singleton Shea Summers is persuaded to become the “wife” of the Lord of Edgerton Manor, the last thing she wants to do is play house with a stranger.
Brooding playboy Brando Marshall, is far from happy when Shea turns up at his sprawling estate with production crew in tow. Surely she’s just another woman after his wallet?
And if she’s looking for Mr Right, she’s definitely hitting on the wrong guy. Then again, after catching an unscheduled glimpse of her knickers, perhaps Brando needs to teach this “gold-digger” a lesson!
The Right Side of Mr. Wrong
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About Jane:
I write fun, flirty fiction, with feisty heroines and a bit of an edge.
I live in a mountain kingdom in Derbyshire, England, where my family and pets are kind enough to ignore the domestic chaos – happily, we’re in walking distance of a supermarket. For me, writing romance is cool because I get to wear pretty shoes instead of wellies. I love hearts, flowers, happy endings, all things vintage, most things french.
When I’m not on facebook, and can’t find an excuse for shopping, I’ll be walking, or gardening. On days when I want to be really scared, I ride a tandem.
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