Play at Love: A Bowser Belles Sweet Romantic Comedy Novella: Bowser Belles, #1

By Teddy Cat Hester

Bunny Cloverfield prioritizes pooches over partners.

Max Sheridan woos work, not women.

Can canines save a couple headed for the doghouse?

I already got rid of one boyfriend--he spent more time playing games on his electronics than he did with me and my beloved dogs.

Max and I meet when he knocks me on the head with his backgammon case.

Not his best opening move.

From the moment my Flopsy spaniel gobbles up one of Max's backgammon checkers, to the fight over who gets to cuddle with whom, it's a roll of the dice as to who will end up winners (but one of 'em better be me)!

Bunny is a standalone, short-n-sweet novella. That means for 2 hours or more there's no cheating, no sex, and no cussing. There is a guaranteed happily ever after, with no cliffhanger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teddy Cat Hester
• Release date: Nov 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386595557

Book preview

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all who appreciate love, laughter, and pups!

Every morning was a cuddle fest with two tricolor King Charles Cavalier Spaniels. Waking up to a pair of small dogs that were perennially warm and eager to please started Bunny Cloverfield’s day off right.

That morning she was the filling in their sleep sandwich, two furry beasties snuggled tight against either side of Bunny’s torso, ensuring she couldn’t move in any direction without them knowing about it. Inhaling deeply, contentment poured through her like a favorite sweet, creamy French vanilla latte. She untangled her arms from beneath covers weighted by the dual furnaces and stretched, before trailing her fingers through the pups’ long, silky fur.

Yes, she loved them dearly—couldn’t imagine life without them—but she was twenty-six. It was probably high time she snared herself a human companion to cuddle with and to put that contented smile on her face.

At least that’s what her family droned on about whenever they had the opportunity.

That thought pushed her out of her comfy bed. It was the mops’ cue their day was about to begin. They leapt off the mattress and dashed out the bedroom door, ready for adventure. She was slower to follow, stumbling to the bathroom for a nice, soapy shower.

Why did she need a man in her life? She scrubbed her scalp harder in defiance. Her ex, Duncan, had been in the running, but night would almost be day before he’d finish playing whatever video game had held his attention. She used to sit with him—even trying to play some of the less violent games—until she’d go to bed from sheer boredom, trusting that Duncan would get the message, let himself out, and go home. No such luck. It had gotten to where most mornings she and the pups would find him curled up on the couch, draped in Bunny’s Snuggie. Turned out pink was a good color for him. Too bad their relationship hadn’t been as good a fit.

With a sigh that echoed off the tile walls, she blew her shoulder-length hair dry, and batted her eyelashes around the mascara wand. In her closet, she dug around for jeans and a sweater. Glancing at the time when she undocked her phone, she tossed the bed covers into some semblance of neat and hustled on with her day. She and the Cavaliers were to meet up with their Bowser Belle friends at the dog park for lunch.

A familiar sight greeted her in the living room. Two furry little bottoms swayed back and forth, bushy tails wagging. Flopsy and Mopsy stood at the picture window of their ground-floor apartment, front paws braced on the sill, noses pressed against the glass.

It was full-on spring there in the heartland. The precious dark eyes of her pups followed the flight of birds swooping through the yard, sunlight dappling the grass. Colorful tulip beds and lilac bushes dotted the space between Bunny’s building and the Sycamore Hill, Missouri, residential neighborhood. Fat, lazy bees floated around the wisteria arbor at the edge of her patio and the beautiful ornamental pear trees in full bloom.

She joined her dogs at the window, hoping for a little animal-watching of her own, namely of the two-legged, muscled variety. Wasn’t it time for guys to get outside for some exercise, a run, or even a brisk walk? She’d gone almost all winter without sighting one of those creatures, much less dating one since her break-up...and here it was spring. That was when Mother Nature came back to life, bringing warmer temps, celebrating the season with color, and oozing vigor, vitality, and the power of creation—an energizing time of year that generally got everybody’s imagination and hormones pinging. She wasn’t immune to the pull.

Except for one thing—

Bunny Cloverfield actually kind of dreaded spring. Well, commercialized Easter, mostly, like the artificial tree decked out with dyed egg ornaments, gracing a neighbor’s window. She shuddered and turned away.

With a name like hers, could anyone blame her for dreading the most commercial spring holiday? For at least the billionth time in her life, she thought about making a legal name change. She would have long ago, if her mother’s face hadn’t crumpled the first time Bunny had mentioned it.

But her mother either didn’t know or didn’t care what Bunny went through every year. During the holiday lead-up, she’d pull out her card to pay for something, the clerk would read her name, and the comments would begin. As if she’d never realized how closely her name was tied to the holiday. If she had a dollar for every time she’d endured somebody gushing over the cuteness of her name, she could have Cadbury eggs for breakfast every morning for the rest of her life.

She should just change it and let her mom deal with the disappointment. What kind of mother gave her child a name ready-made for such ridicule anyway?

Her mother.

She said she just couldn’t resist. Bunny could almost see the point. With the last name Cloverfield, and a March birthday, she guessed it was to be expected that a sentimental woman, hopped up on giving birth, couldn’t resist the temptation. After all, a cute little bundle of pink skin, blue eyes, and a halo of apricot hair was just begging for it, right?

Not that Bunny was any better. When her Bowser friends gifted her with the tiny spaniels on her birthday a couple of years ago, Bunny suffered a rush of endorphins that had her foisting leporine names on the poor, defenseless, totally endearing pups. They wore the names of Peter Cottontail’s siblings with pride, as befitted their having a mom named Bunny. On the Cavaliers, it was cute. On Bunny, not so much.

Once she got past the holiday, though, Bunny was okay with spring, in spite of the sappy spring fever that seemed to hit everybody. Her two wiggly little dogs were freaky over spring. Couldn’t wait to roll around in it with their canine pals.

Predictably, Flopsy jumped down from the window seat and fetched her leash from its hook by the door.

Bunny took the pink leather strip from the dog’s mouth and clipped it to the matching collar. Wanna go outside, sweetie? Ready for action? Bunny asked in a high baby voice that had Flopsy’s tail wagging her whole body, and her eyes sparkling like obsidian in direct sunlight.

Mopsy jumped down and splayed himself flat on the floor, liquid dark eyes trained on her.

Hands on her hips, Bunny