Man Candy
A one-night stand in the mountains leaves him howling for more…
A loner looking for solitude, a woman who just lost her job in the most public way possible, and a mountain storm that gives them two weeks together to figure out how temporary they really are—charming contemporary romance with forced-proximity heat, a one-night stand that refuses to end, and a slow burn worth every scenic mile.
He planned two weeks alone. She showed up on his doorstep. The storm decided the rest.
After months buried in his family's affairs, Dax Vaughn is ready for a break — the kind that involves two solid weeks of camping and fishing in the company of absolutely no one. Then he walks into a mountain bar and finds himself directly in the path of a drop-dead gorgeous tornado named Becca Stone.
One minute Becca is admiring the rock-hard jaw of the sexy stranger who just walked in. The next, she's being fired by her own brother — loudly, and in front of everyone. Luckily, Dax Vaughn aims his white-hot smile at her at exactly the right moment. It's on.
She offers a no-strings night. He can't say yes fast enough.
He doesn't expect her to show up on his cabin doorstep the next evening, shivering in the rain. When a torrential storm washes out the main road and knocks out the power, they make a deal: two weeks together, then part ways permanently. It was a solid plan, right up until their hearts had other ideas.
Perfect for Readers Who Love:
– Charming and warm with real slow-burn heat
– Loner hero who didn't plan on staying
– One-night stand becomes two weeks stuck together
– Steamy contemporary romance with mountain-retreat magic
“Explosive chemistry, real characters, and a lot of heart—Man Candy gave me all the feels!”
“Becca and Dax’s instant chemistry is enhanced by their growing emotional bond. Readers will want more of this charming couple.”
Excerpt
Becca
I settle into my barstool like I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. “So where in Columbus—”
My words cut off when the bar goes black. For the count of a breath, the electricity snaps off.
Then on. Then off.
Off is where it stays.
I turn on my phone screen, and in that faint bit of light, I can make out Becca’s wide eyes on me at the same time I feel the warmth of her palm, striking like flint, on my arm.
Dominic announces that he’s going to power up the generator. He doesn’t ask Becca if she’s okay again, but I sense that he’d like to. Her eyes don’t leave mine. I can feel them on me even when my phone light winks out.
“Scared, Becca Stone?” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it sounds loud without the humming backdrop of electrically powered appliances.
“No.” She squeezes my arm. “Are you scared?”
“No. I love the dark.”
“Me too,” she says. Breathlessly.
A beat passes and her hand runs the length of my arm, tucks under my shirtsleeve, and grips high on my biceps. I flex for her. Another beat passes where nothing but our truncated breaths saturate the air. And then we’re bathed in light.
“It’s back on,” she says needlessly. She’s still touching me, her cheeks pink with heat. Our bodies lean in and we just keep leaning.
“Dax?” she whispers, her voice the slightest bit unsteady.
“Yeah?”
She responds by coming my way. Slowly. Until her lips touch mine in the barest, faintest brush. Every inch of me ignites, as if Dominic plugged my body into that generator. My eyes close and I lose the softness of her lips. Her hand strokes down my arm and she takes my fingers in hers and squeezes.
“Sorry about that,” she mumbles.
I open my eyes. “Don’t be.”
“I didn’t plan on doing that. I was going with my instincts.”
“Good instincts.”
“Do you...” She licks her lips and her eyes flit to the door and then back to me. “Do you want to—”
“Check,” I bark at Dominic the moment he steps behind the bar again. I don’t break eye contact with Becca. Her resilient smile returns as Dominic reluctantly prints my bill and slaps it on the bar. I don’t pay him any attention as I pull cash from my wallet and throw it down.
“I should ask you if you’re sure. I was just fired. I approached you. I could be trouble. You don’t really know me,” Becca says.
“You don’t know me.” We both stand.
“I know you’re a bar owner from Ohio. I know your first and last name.” She’s taller than I would’ve thought. She’s far from dwarfed by me.
“I know you’re Becca Stone and your brother has questionable manners. I know you’re determined and ballsy and, babe, you are wearing that pair of jeans.”
Challenge sparkles in her eyes. “I know your body feels like smooth steel and your mouth tastes like beer and clean, cool mint.”
I duck my head, so close to kissing her again it’s not even funny. “But do you know the way to cabin thirteen?”
She purses her lips and whispers, “By heart.”
