Cocktales

“Cletus!”

Something about her tone, like she was horrified, and maybe a little afraid, cut though the heavy haze of lust inertia, and my hands stilled. Shaking myself, it took me a few moments to realize she was showing me the phone screen, and another few to bring the content of the text messages into focus.

Momma: Jennifer Anne Sylvester, pick up your phone. If you’re with that man of yours, I need his help too. Please.

Momma: ALL THE CHICKENS AND ROOSTERS ARE DEAD! PICK UP YUR DAMN PHONE!

Momma: I’m calling you in a second, pick up the phone. Mr. Badcock’s chickens are dead. All of them. I got here and he’s running around, deranged, yelling about his dead chickens! I called the police and they’re on their way. Please, please, please pick up the phone!





At some point, I must’ve taken the phone from Jenn and stepped away, because I glanced up upon reading the messages for the third time, finding the phone in my hand and Jenn fixing her skirt.

“This is nuts.” Her big eyes searched mine imploringly. “Who could have done this?”

I shook my head, having not yet managed to fully shift brain gears. My gaze dropped to the wet patch on the front of her dress, where I’d had my mouth seconds prior, and my erection throbbed.

So we’re . . . not having sex?

“Why? Why would they do it?” She took her phone back, her tone bewildered, distracted, and distraught.

She was distraught because of the dead chickens, like any normal person would be.

I was distraught also, but my distress had nothing to do with farm animals.

“We have to go.” Jenn grabbed my hand and began walking blindly toward the direction of the hall door. “This is crazy. Poor Mr. Badcock. And those poor chickens.” A sound of mournful distress escaped her throat. “This is terrible.”

It was terrible.

And I was going to hell.

Because all I could think was, Talk about a cock block.

-end-





Dear Reader,

These two parts are the very raw, unedited beginnings of Jenn and Cletus’s first book (‘Engagement and Espionage’) in their cozy mystery series (Handcrafted Mysteries) coming in 2019. These chapters were written specifically for this anthology and are in no way final. But I hope you enjoyed the peek into my raw work, before I get a chance to read and re-read, draft and re-draft, edit and re-edit. HUGE thank you to Author Camilla Monk (of the awesome Spotless series, http://camillamonk.com/) for giving this story a quick edit. You are a magical unicorn of stellar proportions.

Wishing you all the best, Penny Reid

The Winston saga continues with Dr. Strange Beard, releasing July 9, 2018.

Click here for more info





About the Author





Penny Reid lives in Seattle, Washington with her husband, three kids, and an inordinate amount of yarn. She used to spend her days writing federal grant proposals as a biomedical researcher, but now she just writes books.

Come find Penny-

Mailing list signup: http://pennyreid.ninja/newsletter/ (get exclusive stories, sneak peeks, and pictures of cats knitting hats) Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/PennyReidWriter

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Email: [email protected] …hey, you! Email me ;-)

Blog: http://pennyreid.ninja

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ReidRomance

Ravelry: http://www.ravelry.com/people/ReidRomance (if you crochet or knit…!)





Also by Penny Reid





Knitting in the City Series

(Contemporary Romantic Comedy)

Neanderthal Seeks Human: A Smart Romance (#1)

Neanderthal Marries Human: A Smarter Romance (#1.5)

Friends without Benefits: An Unrequited Romance (#2)

Love Hacked: A Reluctant Romance (#3)

Beauty and the Mustache: A Philosophical Romance (#4)

Ninja at First Sight (#4.75)

Happily Ever Ninja: A Married Romance (#5)

Dating-ish: A Humanoid Romance (#6)

Marriage of Inconvenience: (#7)



* * *



Winston Brothers Series

(Contemporary Romantic Comedy, spinoff of Beauty and the Mustache)

Truth or Beard (#1)

Grin and Beard It (#2)

Beard Science (#3)

Beard in Mind (#4)

Dr. Strange Beard (#5, coming 2018)

Beard with Me (#5.5)

Beard Necessities (#6 )



* * *



Hypothesis Series

(New Adult Romantic Comedy)

Elements of Chemistry: ATTRACTION, HEAT, and CAPTURE (#1) Laws of Physics: MOTION, SPACE, and TIME (#2) Fundamentals of Biology: STRUCTURE, EVOLUTION, and GROWTH (#3)





* * *



Irish Players (Rugby) Series – by L.H. Cosway and Penny Reid

(Contemporary Sports Romance)

The Hooker and the Hermit (#1)

The Pixie and the Player (#2)

The Cad and the Co-ed (#3)

The Varlet and the Voyeur (#4)





Cocky Capo





CD Reiss





Antonio, Theresa, Jonathan, and Monica meet in Napoli, and it's utterly insane.





Copyright ? 2018 Flip City Media Inc.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.





Cocky Capo





NAPOLI - ITALIA





THERESA





From the minute I met Antonio, I thought I knew him. I didn’t always know how he’d react, or what exactly he’d do, but I always knew why. To me, that was enough. Reactions are a mixed bag of circumstances and upbringing. The measure of a man was in his motivations. He was motivated by love and responsibility.

I was wrong about his measure. There was more to it than that, and I didn’t realize it until I saw him in Italy.

He breathed more deeply. Held me more tightly. Laughed more naturally. On the veranda, with the olive groves behind him and the morning breeze tousling his hair, he fit into the landscape like a puzzle piece. He belonged there.

“What’s bothering you, Contessa?”

“Nothing.” I shrugged. I didn’t want to break the spell of his perfection.

He put his cappuccino cup down empty. “Don’t make me fuck it out of you.”

The prospect was tempting, but I was already sore from the morning’s activities.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

One beautiful black eyebrow arched slightly higher.

“I’m relieved to be home,” he said. “Give me a few days to smell the garbage.”





The orchard had been abandoned for years. Antonio had to open the rusted chain on the front gate with bolt cutters. I drove the Aston Martin down the cracked drive and he followed on foot, a pillar of perfection against the overgrown landscape in the rearview mirrors.

When I stopped the car he jogged to catch up, opening the door for me and offering his hand to help me out. He kissed my hand before clasping it tightly.

“Benvenuto Casa Spinelli.” He waved his arm at the boarded up villa. “The home of my ruined heart.”

“Stop. Your heart is fine and it’s beautiful here.”

“My heart is fine because of you, and you make everything beautiful.” He put his arm around me. Ivy had overtaken the cracked walls of the stone manor all the way to the second floor, and the front steps were broken. “I go first. It might not be safe.”

“Hush. I’m going with you every step.”

“Come vuoi tu,” he said, scooping me up in his arms with such speed I yelped in surprise. I put my arms around his neck and he carried me up the broken stairs. The weather was perfect Mediterranean spring, with soft clouds drawn over the clear blue sky, and the sweet smell of blossoming olives in the air. My hand had a mind of its own, stroking the black scruff on his cheek, up to his forehead, tracing the straight scar to his ear.

He slid me back onto my feet at the front door. It was thick wood, carved with a border of olive branches. A metal hinge had been screwed on over the brass doorknob. Antonio took the bolt cutters from his back waistband and cut the padlock as if it was a piece of cardboard. It fell to the ground with a solid thunk.

“Are you ready?” he asked with his hand on the brass knob.