When my great aunt left me half of her tea shop in the Florida Keys, I didn't know she left the other half to Grayson. My enemy who teased me on every family holiday. My first crush and my first kiss, CPR counts, right? Regardless, those lips are still imprinted, even if he is the most aggravating man I've ever known.
Grayson
She stormed into the tea shop like she owned the place. Technically she does, but I'm not about to let her ruin everything I've worked for while she's been living it up in England all these years. Isn't chamomile relaxing? Not her. She makes every muscle in my body hard and my throat dry, but I'm thirsty for her curves. She can have the tea cups. I want those double Ds.
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Copyright 2023 Annie Charme
“So did your aunt.” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.
“She would have understood. She was always proud of my work, which is why I still can’t fathom why she left me her tea shop.”
“Half her shop.” I correct her.
“Gray can you fix the urn. The spout is sticking again,” Trudy says, waddling to the table with a tray resting on her pregnant belly.
“I’ll leave you to it, while I take my things up. I assume Betty’s flat is still in order upstairs.
“Upstairs?” I blink fast. “You’re moving in upstairs?”
“Where else would I stay?”
“There’s a bed and breakfast next door. You’ll have to stay there. I’m living upstairs.”
“Since when?” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Since your aunt went into a care home and asked me to run the place.” I check to see if Lark is still sitting at the table, hoping she can offer a room at her bed and breakfast. My eyes plead with her, knowing Lark, she’s heard all our conversation.
Her lip curls as she sips on her tea. “Sorry but the bed and breakfast is full, so is the inn. You won’t find any spare rooms this time of the year with the Easter holidays.”
“Great. Well there’s no room here.” I wave my hand in the air, then pinch the bridge of my nose. I wanted her here, but I hadn’t expected her to just show up unannounced. I’m not prepared for this.
She digs a fist into her cocked hip. “Oh my goodness, it’s like Bethlehem. Are you going to put me up in a stable?”
“Why you’re not pregnant are you?”
She gives me a death stare. “Do I look pregnant to you?” She glances down at her tight denim jeans hugging her belly. “Don’t answer that,” she warns. “It’s just a little holiday weight.”
I nod, holding back my smile. I always loved her curves. And she hasn’t lost her confidence.
Lark continues to sip her tea with a smile hiding behind her china cup.
I scratch the back of my neck. “I guess you’ll have to stay here. There’s a couch.”
“Thank you.” She lets out a sigh and continues lugging her case through the back.
Damn she’s even more feisty than I remember. Her ass sways in front of me and I have the urge to squeeze it or swat it. Does she expect me to drop everything, give up my bed and wait on her, this ain’t no damn holiday resort.
Who does she think she is? Walking in here like she owns the place. Technically she does. Yeah but not for long. She wants me to buy her out. She wants to sell. Her great aunt would turn in her grave if she knew. I couldn’t buy her out even if I wanted to. And up to now it’s the only hold I had over her to get her ass back here after ten years.
I’m a graphic artist by day and author by night, writing real, raw, racy romance. My book boyfriends are inked heroes who like fat, fun, and feisty women (sounds familiar).
My goal is to spread body positivity through my fat and fabulous curvy heroines with a good serving of British humour on the side (not forgetting an extra helping of alpha goodness).
On the very rare occasion I’m not working in my day job...or night job as a writer, I'll be living my best life in the heart of England with my other half, two wildlings (otherwise known as Veruca Salt and Mike Teavee), and a randy cavalier pup.
My serious book fetish travels with me in our tin cruiser as we roam the English countryside. You’ll usually find me in a field somewhere or curled up on the sofa with a coffee (wine), blanket and dog to keep me cozy, and a good steamy book to make me w—warm.
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