The Lover: Blazing Hearts, #3

By Kennedy Kovit

Kaleb is a notorious lady's man. He's walking sin and not afraid to brag about the fact. Hell, he'd put it on a t-shirt if he bothered keeping one on long enough for anyone to read it. He's used to getting who and what he wants. When he finds himself face–to–face with a spitfire of a challenge—his first love who is back in town, waiting tables at his favorite watering hole—everything changes. Hotter than a platter full of sin at a church picnic, Erica has him tied in knots, and if he plays his cards right, he'll have her tied to his bed soon enough.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raven Happy Hour LLC
• Release date: Sep 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9781625010230

Book preview

Chapter One

Kaleb Smith walked with a purpose into The Drink —a favorite roadside watering hole of his for years. The red on the door was worn from age, use and weather. It was clear to see where most pressed to enter. There was nearly no paint left there. Kaleb had done his fair share of entering over the years. More than he cared to admit. He wasn’t exactly proud of his sexual appetites so much as he’d come to terms with them long ago.

He strutted in as if he owned the place. He knew he looked like a man on the prowl because he was. It had been too long between bed partners and his cock was heavy with want. There was only so much jacking off a guy could do before nothing but a wet, tight pussy would do. He’d reached that point.

His cowboy boots clicked on the worn hardwood floor, announcing his arrival. Varying antique pieces of farm equipment adorned the walls of the roadside bar. It was supposed to be art of some sort. It looked like clutter to him, but what did he know? He was hardly what one would call refined. And he’d once heard some Yankee offer up big bucks to purchase an antique right off the wall. He and the other locals grinned, knowing there were at least a half dozen more where that piece had come from, just lying out in the field behind the bar, free for the picking.

Hell, there were three local businesses that made their money by picking through old broken furniture, slapping obnoxious colors of paint on them—such as turquoise or bright-ass pink—then selling them, barely functioning, for high dollar.

Northerners. Quick to throw good money at junk.

Rows of tall tables dotted the right side of the establishment. Each had patrons at them, making the bar full, as it normally was in the evening and at night. A vintage jukebox was tucked safely back behind them. The dance floor area was extra worn, a sign of getting its use over the years. Kaleb had done his fair share of cutting a rug on that very floor. Dancing was a lot like sex.

All in the hips and how you carried yourself.

There was a stage off to the back left and often local bands played to entertain the patrons. Tonight the only music filling the joint was coming from the jukebox and was about as country as you could get without plucking an actual banjo.

Kaleb cringed. He