The Right Sort of Wet

By Vivian Hicks

After breaking up with her out of control verbally abusive artist boyfriend, Rachel moves into her own apartment. Not long after she gains a new neighbor across the lane. He's tall, tanned, and handsome, but she's not sure how to talk to him. When she accidentally strikes up a conversation she finds herself falling head over heels in lust. Haven is everything Chad could never be. He's smart, funny, a good artist, not to mention – drop-dead-sexy.

Haven is the right sort of smokin' hot, but can Rachel manage to stay the right sort of wet while dealing with her insecurities, ex-boyfriend drama, and her obvious attraction to Haven? She's bound and determined to find her happily-right-now even if the happily-ever-after never comes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AmorBooks.com
• Release date: Jan 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005204433

Book preview

The Right Sort of Wet

by

Vivian Hicks

Copyright 2022 Vivian Hicks

Distributed by Smashwords

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Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and is intended for those over the age of 18 only.

***

I had been watching the new guy who moved in across the street for two weeks. His balcony was right across from mine giving me plenty of excuses to watch him without being obvious. I even moved my plants from the front window onto the balcony. This morning wasn't unusual. I was wearing a forget-me-not blue dress and watering my plants. In one hand I held my morning ice latte from the cafe down the street and in the other hand the watering can. His balcony door creaks open and I look in his direction as I turn to water the last plant. I should have been paying more attention to where I was putting my feet and less attention to the hottie across the way, because I trip.

He's the right sort of hot, but I'm the wrong sort of wet. My blue forget-me-not dress was now covered in the contents of the watering can and the remainder of my ice latte.

You all right? the hottie from across the lane asks. My cheeks go crimson and my body suddenly feels as if I've stepped into the aftermath of a fire. He finally speaks to me and I'm soaked in cold coffee and water.

I'm fine! I call back, bending at the knees to retrieve the plastic cup I dropped, I just tripped over.. I stop talking because there's no way in hell I'm going to say my own big feet.

This Midwestern air is thick, isn't it? he calls back, with a