In a case of mistaken identity, Montgomery French thinks security expert Ballantyne Teague is the local bad boy. He turns her boring life upside down and she likes it.
Ballantyne has every intention of confessing the truth to Montie when the time is right. He has two objectives. The first is to make Montie fall hopelessly in love with him. The second is to catch the real burglar Montie thinks he is.
But Ballantyne is not the only one caught up in Montie’s life. Her ex-boyfriend has a secret that will shock her and a real bad boy lusts after her.
Vicky, Sizzling Hot Books, 4/5 Hearts
"[C]lassic Amarinda Jones. Knock Three Times is fantasy come to life...This is one wild ride that is fun to read..."
Montie pushed her hands up to ward him off. Her left breast sprang out of its lace containment. He looked at it the way a man should—hungrily. He pulled her toward him by the waist and suctioned his mouth on the nipple before Montie had time to react.
“Oh God,” she moaned as his lips tugged at her flesh. His mouth felt so damn good on her. Montie staggered in her heels as his hands went down to grasp her ass and press her against the erection that was bulging in his trousers. All for me?
“You’re a burglar.” There was a point to be made but for the life of her at that moment she was not sure what it was. She put her hands to his head and ran her fingers through his hair. This was heaven and exactly what she needed.
“So?” Ballantyne’s hands tore at the lace to free her other breast.
“This is wrong.” She pushed her other breast forward into his hand.
“Why? You’re hot and I’m hot. Let’s burn together.”
Montie pulled his head from her breast.
“You are so up yourself,” she pronounced breathlessly. But she liked the whole cocky attitude thing.
“I would rather be up you, chère.” Ballantyne smiled at her suddenly. “Are you blushing?”
“No.” Yes. That someone could want her so badly thrilled and shocked her. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt as she tried to steady herself. I can’t do this. It’s wrong. Her fingers ran over the hard planes of his chest. Or maybe I could. Who would know?
“I need you, chère.” Ballantyne lifted her up onto the pool table and moved in between her open legs.
“Um, I don’t sleep around.” Sex on a pool table? That wasn’t exactly sleeping around now was it? The inside of her thighs was so wet she was dripping at the thought of a complete stranger taking her on the table that still had two payments to be made on it.