Honey In The Rock (Sweet & Dirty BBW #5)

By: Cathryn Cade

ABOUT THE BOOK


Her real world could be even better than her gamer fantasies… if she dares.

He’s a hot, dangerous biker who goes through women like whiskey.

She’s a shy, BBW gamer who crushes on him from afar.

But when danger throws them together for a weekend, they go down in flames together.

Now she’ll never be able to keep her distance… unless he pushes her away.

Can’t get blood from a stone, but can this BBW beauty spin honey from a rock?

Don’t miss this dark, sexy ride through danger!





CHAPTER ONE


Billie Boggs stood on a street corner by a sign that read ‘Bus Stop’.

She was shivering, despite her cream down jacket, the fuzzy, coral scarf wrapped around her throat, and matching crocheted beanie, and the mass of her long, light-brown hair curling down her back. Underneath this, she wore brown skinny jeans and a green sweater. Her knees were locked to keep her in place, toes curled in her cute, but not warm, knee-high leather boots.

It was April, but it felt more like February, as Airway Heights, Washington was currently suffering through a spring squall, the cloudy skies spitting snowflakes that melted the moment they hit the damp ground and pavement.

Billie was also shivering with nerves and fear. She had to get on the bus when it arrived, no matter what awaited her on board.

And it would be ugly, of this she was certain. Because of a certain trio of very badly behaved guys who had for some reason taken to riding the bus each morning, seemingly just to harass her.

Yesterday this had escalated to more than words. What came next, she didn’t want to know.

As she stood there, she heard a familiar sound, the deep, throaty purr of a beefed-up muscle car.

She didn’t look up, but kept her eyes trained on the game she was playing on her phone.

That car represented another source of fear, this one easy to avoid, because the driver never truly noticed her and never would unless she suddenly leapt out into the street in front of him and he had to slam on his brakes and lay rubber with his wide tires.

She didn’t fear the driver of the car the same way she did the thugs on the bus. No, she feared that he would notice her, and she would have to interact with him, thus revealing that she was inept with attractive members of the opposite sex.

With guys that were as hot as him, she was at a complete loss.

And anyway, she wasn’t looking for a hot guy, she was looking for a quiet, steady one. A guy who would think she was all that, and work hard to get her, then work to keep her. She would do the same for him, and they’d make a good life together.

She didn’t need her heart to thump and her stomach to develop butterflies, her skin to flush just at the sight of him. She just needed him to be there for her, forever and always.

So, while her older sister Lesa had found a hot, biker man to promise forever and mean it, that was different. Lees was gorgeous, out-going and loved being the center of a crowd. She was able to draw her hot guy’s attention and hold on.

Billie was quiet, content to be in the background. And she wanted a guy who was the same.

Two things happened—first, the gray bulk of the 7:30 am Airway Heights-to-Spokane South Hill bus loomed over the slight rise of the main road.

Second, the low shape of a classic muscle car prowled to a stop at her side.

Billie stiffened, her hands in fingerless, knitted gloves frozen on her phone, along with the breath in her throat.

Her gaze slid sideways as the darkened window rolled down on the near side of the restored 1968 Pontiac Firebird, all black except for the gleaming chrome trim and wheels.

A deep, rough voice growled two words from the depths of the car. “Get in.”

She stayed frozen in place. The words were not a request, not an offer—they were an order. One which she could not believe she was hearing.

The bus rolled to a stop at the curb a few feet away from its regular place, which was somewhat blocked by the Firebird.

Her gaze darted to the bus, then back to the car by her side.

The doors of the bus slid open. Through the windshield she could see Herb, the friendly but ineffectual bus driver, peering down at her. Probably wondering why the driver of a hot muscle car was bothering with the likes of her.

“Babe, get in,” repeated the deep voice from inside the car, this time filled with enough impatience to make Billie’s already knotted stomach jump, and her body tilt in his direction as if compelled by a powerful force.

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