Report For Booty

By Jodi Redford

A Kinky Chronicles crossover story

Mason Gamble and Nash Vincent are pros at making people sweat. As former Army Rangers who run the toughest, ball-busting fitness boot camp in Michigan, they take great pride in that fact. But thanks to the knockout brunette housesitting next door, suddenly they’re the ones experiencing excess perspiration. Fortunately, the perfect opportunity to be neighborly presents itself courtesy of a package delivery snafu.

Regan Wallace has trust issues. Specifically, trusting that her best friend won’t make good on her threat to send a Strip-O-Gram for Regan’s birthday. Is it any wonder she’d jump to the wrong conclusion when two gorgeous, camo-garbed hunks land on her front doorstep? Woops. The crazy part? They don’t seem the least bit scandalized or offended by her boneheaded blunder. Judging by the sinful heat in their eyes, they’re all too happy to provide her with a little two-on-one dirty dancing. For a woman recovering from a bad breakup, fielding the interest of two sex-on-a-stick men is both surreal and exhilarating. Indulging a three-way fling? Completely out of her comfort zone. But with her stay limited to a week, some no-strings-attached sex might be precisely what she needs to get her confidence back in stride.

None of them are prepared for the consequences of a sexy fling feeling like so much more. As Regan’s stay draws closer to an end, Mason and Nash realize there’s no way in hell they’re letting the perfect woman slip through their fingers. And when it comes to fighting for her love, there are no fitter warriors for the ultimate battle to her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jodi Redford
• Release date: Nov 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310487927

Jodi Redford

At the ripe age of seven, Jodi Redford penned her first epic, complete with stick figure illustrations. Sadly, her drawing skills haven’t improved much, but her love of fantasy worlds never went away. These days she writes about fairies, ghosts, and other supernatural creatures, only with considerably more heat. She has won numerous awards, including The Golden Pen and Launching a Star. When not writing or working the day job, she enjoys gardening and way too many reality television shows.  

Book preview

Report For Booty

By

Jodi Redford

Report For Booty

Copyright 2015 Jodi Redford

Edited by JL Stalker

Published by Jodi Redford

Cover by Amie Stuart

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the web-without permission in writing from the author.

Report For Booty

A Kinky Chronicles Crossover story

Mason Gamble and Nash Vincent are pros at making people sweat. As former Army Rangers who run the toughest, ball-busting fitness boot camp in Michigan, they take great pride in that fact. But thanks to the knockout brunette housesitting next door, suddenly they’re the ones experiencing excess perspiration. Fortunately, the perfect opportunity to be neighborly presents itself courtesy of a package delivery snafu.

Regan Wallace has trust issues. Specifically, trusting that her best friend won’t make good on her threat to send a Strip-O-Gram for Regan’s birthday. Is it any wonder she’d jump to the wrong conclusion when two gorgeous, camo-garbed hunks land on her front doorstep? Woops. The crazy part? They don’t seem the least bit scandalized or offended by her boneheaded blunder. Judging by the sinful heat in their eyes, they’re all too happy to provide her with a little two-on-one dirty dancing. For a woman recovering from a bad breakup, fielding the interest of two sex-on-a-stick men is both surreal and exhilarating. Indulging a three-way fling? Completely out of her comfort zone. But with her stay limited to a week, some no-strings-attached sex might be precisely what she needs to get her confidence back in stride.

None of them are prepared for the consequences of a sexy fling feeling like so much more. As Regan’s stay draws closer to an end, Mason and Nash realize there’s no way in hell they’re letting the perfect woman slip through their fingers. And when it comes to fighting for her love, there are no fitter warriors for the ultimate battle to her heart.

CHAPTER ONE

Grimacing, Regan Wallace inspected the metallic blue thong pinched between her fingertips. "Your guys agree to wear these getups?"

Trust me, they’ve worn worse. Much, much worse. Harper freed Regan of the skimpy undergarment and tossed it in her shopping basket. You should see some of the requests we get. Crazy pants, man.

Don’t you mean crazy banana hammocks?

Heh. Good one. Harper snatched a matching cape and added it to her stash of skimpies. Ya know, while you’re in town you should stop in to see a show.

Harper’s uncle owned a local male strip club called Sinners, and she handled the off premise end of the business. Bachelorette parties and such. In other words, a daily grind—pun intended—of body oil and G-strings. Compared to Regan’s house and pet sitting service, it was clear which of them lived the wild life. Thanks, but think I’ll pass.

Harper rolled her eyes. "You are such a wuss. A little adventure now and then would do you good."

That’s okay. Apparently Steven was doing plenty of that for the both of us.

That motherfucker, Harper growled, immediately bristling at the mention of Regan’s cheating ex.

Not quite accurate. We both know he’d much rather fuck their daughters. Although it’d been exactly four months since she’d caught him in bed with the neighbor’s eighteen-year-old daughter, the memory still delivered a hefty sting.

He’s lucky you only kicked him out. If it’d been me, I would have chopped his balls off.

I considered it.

A gleam flashed in Harper’s eyes. "You should totally come to the club and get a pic of you surrounded by a bunch of beefcake. We’ll send it to ass-wipe with the caption ‘Look who’s the filling in a hunk manwich’."

"I appreciate the offer, but I doubt Steven would care. Besides, you know those places make me nervous as hell. I’m always worried I’ll get peer pressured into slapping some stripper’s ass. Or worse." She shuddered.

Harper grunted. How are we even friends?

It’s been a mystery to me for years. Laughing, she ducked to avoid getting pegged by the thong Harper lobbed at her. She stooped and grabbed the dinky article of clothing from the ground. "Besides, these do absolutely nothing for me." She pitched the underwear into a nearby bin.

Fine. Then how about this? Harper held up a pair of itsy bitsy camouflage booty shorts and waggled her eyebrows. Perfect for your G.I. Joe fetish.

Why did I ever tell her about that? It’s not a fetish. He’s hot, that’s all. Hello, freakin’ Channing Tatum played him in a movie.

Whatever you say, Ms. Denial Isn’t Just A River In Egypt. Her expression devious, Harper tucked the shorts into her basket. But I do seem to recall it’s somebody’s birthday tomorrow. You never know, a visit from G.I. Joe might be in your future.

Regan’s gaze veered from her friend’s sparkling one to the item sitting not so innocently atop Harper’s growing pile of purchases. So help me God, if you send me a stripper I’m never speaking to you again.

Like never never? Or a day or so never?

"Never. With an additional lifetime of oh hell no never."

Killjoy. A sigh falling from her, Harper led the way to the adult store’s checkout. After handing over a ridiculous sum of cash for the clothing—apparently the less material involved, the more it cost. Like that made any sense—they headed out to the parking lot. Harper dumped her bag on the backseat and turned to wrap Regan in a hug. I’m sorry I can’t get away tomorrow. Uncks is out of town, and its amateur night. Someone’s gotta be there to supervise that train wreck. And guess who the lucky girl is?

Regan grimaced. Sorry. And don’t worry about it. I’ve got a hot date planned with Buzz and Woody.

OMG, you name your vibrators too?

Har har. They’re my client’s guinea pigs. Try not to be jealous.

Considering some of the duds I’ve gone out with lately, a guinea pig would be a step up. Harper crossed to the driver’s side of her car. I’ll see you on Friday, though, right?

Absolutely.

Sweet.

After blowing Harper a kiss, Regan hopped into her Volvo and headed toward the expressway. The traffic on 94 was blessedly light, enabling her to shave ten minutes off her return trip to Algonac. She pulled behind the small queue of cars lined up for the Harsens Island auto ferry just as her cell pinged, announcing a text.

If Buzz and Woody stand you up, you should come visit me at the club.

If there was one thing Harper excelled at, it was persistency. Regan returned her phone to its spot near the gearshift and lowered her window, a balmy breeze stirring off of the south channel of the Saint Clair River. The attendant manning the cars waved her forward and she dutifully cruised up the loading ramp, its metal supports clanking beneath the tires. She pulled behind the Ford Escape. The transport vessel rocked in the water, the sensation slightly unsettling.

Once they squeezed in the last car, the ferry operator tooted his horn and started the slow crawl across the water. Despite its snail pace, she enjoyed every second of the ride. Back home in Grand Rapids, she didn’t get to travel on a ferry every day. This was a treat she intended to savor.

Sooner than she would have liked it to, their transport docked on the adjacent end of the channel, and she and the other vehicles debarked. Veering off from the pack, she followed the twisty, double-lane main street that circled the left side of the island, where the majority of its full time residents lived.

Roughly two minutes later, she pulled into the driveway fronting the Llewelyn’s white clapboard cottage. She’d immediately fallen in love three days ago when she’d first stepped into