Meet the Donnigans
With the eldest Donnigan brothers adjusting to civilian life, their younger sister constantly in trouble, and their little brother clueless about life in general, falling in love is the last thing on anyone’s mind…
Can this Bossy Badass Marine…
The Marine Corps was everything Landon Donnigan ever wanted in life…until a bullet sent him home with a medical discharge. Teaching a self-defense class at the gym is old-hat for a marine, but when he meets sexy Ava Rosenthal, his combat skills are useless for protecting his heart.
Be her Mr. Right?
Ava can take care of herself and likes quiet, bookish men—not muscular warriors who think women need to be coddled. But Landon is more than he seems, and when they come together, the results are explosive.
“You’re so dramatic, Ava.”
“Me?” She set her pace faster. “It’s one thing if I’m getting hot and heavy with a guy and he gets a little handsy.” At her cousin’s grin, she glared. “Yes, I’m aware of the play on words. Chris Handsman was handsy. Ha-ha. Hilarious.”
He chuckled, then coughed. “Sorry. Something stuck in my throat.”
“Your foot, maybe,” she muttered.
“Come on, Ava. You have to admit you need help.”
“Not from him.” She arched a brow and looked down her nose at him, because she knew how much he hated that expression. “Or you.”
“Seriously? Of the two of us, who gets more dates?”
“Having sex and dating aren’t the same thing.”
She must have said that a little too loudly, because the blond giant walking past her stopped and stared.
“What?” she snapped, embarrassed and not needing extra male attention after her recent dating disaster.
“Not a thing,” the giant said, his deep voice giving her shivers. He gave her a less-than-subtle once-over, then moved on.
She and Elliot watched him walk away. For some reason, she fixated on his tight, tight glutes, trying to be clinical about his physique instead of infatuated. Totally not my type. Too muscle-y.
“Now that is an ass.” Elliot sighed. “Too bad he’s straight.”
“How do you know?”
“My spidey-sense tells me things.” He wiggled his brows. “That, and Jerry hit on him last week and got denied. That sexy blond Adonis is strictly into madge vaj.”
“You know. Madge vaj—the magical vagina.”
Ava wanted the floor to swallow her when the young woman next to her laughed out loud and said, “That’s hilarious.”
She leaned closer to her cousin’s machine. “Would you please lower your voice? I know people here.”
“Me too.” Elliot laughed. “Oh, relax. You know, getting horizontal with someone like that would be good for you.”
Together they glanced back at the hulkish blond lifting a bazillion pounds with a man whose features looked enough like him to be a relation. Something about the blond interested her. He wasn’t classically handsome. But he was so…masculine. A face of hard planes and angles, and a body that he’d definitely put a lot of time into.
Warning bells shrieked.
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Not my type. He’s too macho. I can tell just from looking at him. Anyone who needs muscles that big is compensating for something else.”
“Oh? Want to bet on the size of his package? I say you’re wrong about it being tiny. That man is totally rocking the hammock.”
He grinned. “The banana hammock? You know, his stretchy underwear to make room for all that…maleness.”
She felt winded, and not from exercise, because at that moment the giant looked over at her and winked. “You only say stuff like that to embarrass me.” She casually looked back at Elliot, pretending she hadn’t just been ogling a sexy stranger.
“Yep. You need to loosen up, Ava. Live life. Enjoy a hot man without thinking ten steps ahead. Try tossing that five-year plan, just for a little bit.”
“Because you’re thirty and your girl parts are starting to prune. You know they’ll fall off if you don’t use them soon.”
“Why? Why do you say things like this in public?” Not exactly professional for Dr. Ava Rosenthal to be discussing penis size and things falling off in public. She absolutely refused to look at the muscle guy again, because for some reason her girlie parts demanded she take a harder look at all that maleness. Banana hammock. Jesus, Elliot. Stop putting weird thoughts in my head!
Caffeine addict, boy referee, and romance aficionado, MARIE HARTE is a confessed bibliophile and devotee of action movies. Whether hiking in Central Oregon, biking around town, or hanging at the local tea shop, she’s constantly plotting to give everyone a happily ever after.