My Hot Neighbor – A Secret Baby Romance Read Online Natasha L. Black

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)

I came “home” to this small town to start over,
Not to start a new relationship.

I’m here to heal,
Not to find the same old troubles with a new man.

Ryan stopped to help when my car broke down.
I didn’t want to like him, much less trust him.
But I can’t help myself.

My inheritance is a dump with no electricity.
And Ryan is my new neighbor!
Next thing I know, he’s helping me repair the house.
And my heart.

This is more than a fling, but I’m afraid to define it.
I’m going to have to figure it out soon though,
Because the baby I’m carrying won’t stay a secret for long.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



It was almost noon.

Used to be, noon was my least favorite time of the day. Out in the desert, wearing approximately a million pounds of gear, carrying a rifle that I simultaneously hated and depended on to keep me alive, noon was the most despised time of the day. The heat was unbearable, yet somehow, I bore it. Not that I was anything special for that. All of us did it. We bitched about it, but we did it.

Now noon wasn’t so bad. Not compared to midnight. That was when the nightmares came.

I shook my head and tried to blot that thought out. No reason to worry myself with the troubles night brought. I would have to deal with those later anyway. Best to enjoy the day I had until then.

Being home in Murdock, Texas wasn’t actually all that different than the desert in some ways. It was damn hot, and a dry heat at that. There weren’t a whole lot of people in the neighboring towns, though you tended to meet friendly people when you did see them. And the food was good. I never ate more chickpeas in my life than I did in the service, but I was shocked at how good food could be without a big slab of meat. In Texas, though, it was the reverse. Everything was heavy with meat, and it was damn good too. Especially at the border, where the tacos were as authentic as they were delicious.

It took a long time for me to realize the good things that my hometown had. I’d avoided the place like the damn plague for years. Growing up, all I wanted was to get the hell out of there, join the military, and make something of myself. My mom and my sister, my whole world, encouraged me at every step of the way, and the very second I turned eighteen, I signed up for a tour of duty wherever Uncle Sam felt like sending me.

Turned out, I was good, too. Made special forces and went on dangerous missions when there was something worthwhile to do. Otherwise, I did what everybody else did: sat around and waited. And sweated. All while knowing death was always hanging out just around the corner.

It was a good way to spend my twenties, I thought. Hell, it was a good way to spend my life. I planned on staying in Marines until they made me leave by way of a walker and a watch. But life had other plans. More painful ones.

I rubbed my knee before I stood up. It was a habit now to warm it up before I did anything with it, just to avoid cussing for several minutes straight. The achy pain that tended to resonate from that part of my body would spread out and cause all manner of distress up and down from the skull to the toes if I didn’t get it ready first.

After the shrapnel removal, I often became stiff after sitting for too long, but once I was warmed up, there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. I was still in impressive shape. Just keep marching, Beasley.

Standing up and trying to avoid making old man noises was a new game I’d started playing after the replacements. It was a hard one, but I managed it sometimes. Depended on if cursing was considered old man noises or not. I tried not to do much of that either. Mom might be dead, but her spirit probably haunted the halls of her old house where I lived, and if she heard me say some of those words, I was likely to get mysterious books falling off shelves or doors swinging back to smack me in the head.

She had been a good woman. A great woman, actually. I hadn’t wanted to leave her, but I had to get out of Murdock. My sister stayed behind until she got to eighteen too, and then much to my chagrin, she left. Mom had been so supportive of her, though, much like me. She wanted us to live our own lives. So we did. Now I wished I hadn’t stayed away so long. What I wouldn’t do to have one more dinner with Mom.