Hosed (Happy Cat #1)(70)

“Hey, give that back,” I say, scowling as she dances out of reach. “It’s an open bar, psycho. Go get your own scotch.”

“But it’s more fun to steal yours,” Laura says. And then, with the gleeful giggle of a woman who is going to be very hungover tomorrow morning, she turns and flees into the throng of dancers writhing to the music, tossing, “Come get me when it’s time to break and enter! You know you want to,” over her shoulder.

Libby sighs heavily, and I turn back to see her watching me with that same anxious expression, making my heart lurch. “I don’t want to talk about Sylvia,” I say, cutting her off before she can ask.

“Okay,” she says, letting me off the hook far more easily than I expect her to. “But can we talk about something else? Something kind of…private?”

“Um, sure.” I do a quick scan of our immediate surroundings. Aside from a couple making out in the shadows about ten feet away, we’re alone. Everyone else is either out on the dance floor, queued up at the bar, or lounging on the couches near the fire pit on the other side of the patio, soaking in the view of the city.

“Thanks.” Libby smiles nervously as she lifts her glass. “Just let me down a little more liquid courage first.”

“All right,” I say, wondering who this woman is and what she’s done with my sweet, rarely drinks more than one drink, doesn’t own a stitch of black clothing, would never leave the house without putting on a bra Libby.

I really don’t think she’s wearing a bra under that lacy shirt. And I really can’t stop staring, trying to solve the bra or no-bra mystery, and I’m swiftly becoming way too fixated on Libby’s breasts for my personal comfort.

“Maybe I should get a drink, too.” I start for the bar, needing a moment to pull myself together, when Libby puts a hand on my arm.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but I have no idea what she’s apologizing for, only that her touch feels different than it did before. As different as the Libby I’ve known since she was a kid is from this seriously sexy woman standing in front of me.

HOT AS PUCK is Available Now!





Sneak Peek from Pippa Grant





COMING FEBRUARY 1ST FROM PIPPA GRANT

If you love hockey players and friends with benefits romance, read on for an excerpt of Charming as Puck…



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Nick Murphy (aka a hockey god on the verge of being demoted back to mortal status)



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Kami stayed over. That’s weird. I must’ve drank too much last night. Or she did.

Actually, is she still drunk?

She doesn’t usually lick my ear. Or sleep in my bed. We don’t do breakfast together unless it’s some godawful early morning meeting demanded by my sister, in which case we pretend we’re just the same old friends who don’t bump uglies, because Felicity would fucking kill me.

However, risk of death aside, if Kami’s up for something this morning, I could get on board.

My dick’s already showing off.

My eyes are still gritty. I definitely had too much to drink last night. I barely remember Kami showing up at all after the game last night. It was our season opener, at home, our first regular season game after winning the cup last year, and it was fucking brutal.

“Lower,” I tell Kami, my voice ragged in my throat, angling my head, because being licked is nice, but if she’s going to lick me, she could go for somewhere better than my ear.

“Mmmooooooooo,” she answers.

She licks my ear again, reaching the tip of her tongue right into my ear canal, and I lift a heavy arm to guide her face.

And then I freeze.

She’s…furry.

Like a smooth kind of furry.

And I’m king of morning breath, but she smells worse than my sister after one of those vegan wheatgrass garlic avocado smoothies she likes to drink.

“Kami?” I rasp out.

“Mmmooooooo.”

I touch her face.

My eyes fly open.

Kami has blue eyes.

The eyes staring back at me are brown.

And huge.

And set behind a thick fuzzy brown snout, beneath a rigid brow line, with ears sticking up where I expected to see morning bed head.

“Fuck!”

I trip over the tangled sheets while I leap up, my head swimming. The cow watches me with those calm brown orbs. “Mmmmoooooooo,” it says again in its baby cow voice.

Shit shit shit. “Ssshhhh,” I hiss at it.

I can’t decide what to think first. My head’s pounding. I’m going to fucking kill my brother-in-law, who is absolutely behind this, unless Kami’s a shapeshifting cow, which isn’t possible, even when I’m hung over.

Also, after the duck incident, if I get caught with another unapproved animal in my condo, I’m gonna get fucking kicked out of the building.

I don’t have time to move. The season’s just starting. My parents would move me, but I’m thirty fucking years old. My parents aren’t going to move me.

Especially since if they did, they’d probably move me into their house, and that’s not happening.

I might be playing in my home city, but I am not moving in with my parents.

I fumble in the dim light, looking for my phone. “Don’t shit in my bed,” I tell the cow. “I’ll get you out of here, just please don’t shit in my bed.”