Summer with the Single Dad (The Single Dads of San Camanez: The Brew Brothers) Small Town Romance by Whitley Cox
Title: Summer with the Single Dad
Series: The Single Dads of San Camanez: The Brew Brothers
Author: Whitley Cox
Genre/Tropes: Forced Proximity; Small Town; Single Dad; Military; Brotherhood; Medical/Heroine Doctor
Release Date: August 24, 2024
What happens when the stubborn island prince falls for the mysterious stranger with a secret?Welcome to San Camanez, a humble, peaceful little island in the Puget Sound and home to the McEvoy brothers. Four sexy single fathers—and one childless snack with a beard—who run a brewpub on the beach, raise their kids together, and hope to find love and happiness in the chaos that is life. This is Bennett’s story ...
Single Dad and CFO, Bennett McEvoy, is determined to give his daughters a fun summer despite the money woes plaguing his family business. He needs the brewpub and cabins he owns with his brothers to be more prosperous than ever. Because right now, things are tight. His focus is on profit and sustainability. He doesn’t have time for the mysterious beauty in cabin five. But when her cabin floods, he insists she move into his house, because he absolutely does not want to see her go.
Dr. Justine Brazeau, a renowned cardiothoracic surgeon, made a mistake and killed a patient. Clearly, she’s not cut out to practice medicine. But now, she has no direction or purpose. She’s lost. She’s sad. And she’s lonely. Well, not anymore since she’s living with Bennett, and he’s making it very difficult for her to figure out her future—that doesn’t involve him without a shirt (or pants).
Can Bennett make the money his family business needs this summer, and heal Justine’s guilty heart? Or is she too consumed with her own pain to see that together they are stronger, better, and a lot less broken?
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His eyes widened, and a soft sadness entered his heated blue gaze.
“It’s fine,” she dismissed. “I’ve come to terms with it. I also got checked after my ex …”
He nodded, understanding and not making her say the rest.
Then he helped her hop up on his hips and he was inside her in two thunderous heartbeats. How she managed to get so wet and turned on by their last conversation eluded her, but she was. She was slick and ready when he notched himself at her center and slid home. Their collective sighs of relief made her smile as she clung to him and he began to hammer her into the tree.
Nothing about this was conventional, or romantic, or sweet.
But holy hell, was it ever hot.
She’d never had sex anywhere but a bed before, let alone outside, on the side of the road with somewhat of a stranger.
And yet, no part of her—not even the voice of her mother, which sat permanently in the back of her brain criticizing her—told her this was a bad idea. Her mother’s voice would later. It was probably still asleep, that was all.
So since nothing was telling her to stop, and everything was telling her to take, to soak up the dopamine and oxytocin, and find some joy, she tilted her face skyward until her head hit the trunk, allowing his teeth to rake her neck and jaw, for his kisses and his thrusts to push her deeper into euphoria. She smiled at the pink and blue sky as the morning sun shot streaks of light through the clouds. She smiled at how incredible it was to feel joy without guilt and to be with someone who understood what it was like to want to run from joy because they didn’t feel they deserved it.
Bennett’s grunts and groans brought her back to reality, and she tightened her hold around his neck while locking her legs behind his back and tilting her hips. That made him groan, and she followed it with a moan of her own, because now his pubic bone was hitting her clit just right and she could see the edge she wanted to leap from. She ran toward it, met him thrust for thrust as best she could, clawed at his back, and dropped her mouth to his neck and nipped him.
“Christ,” he growled, holding the backs of her thighs and increasing everything: his speed, his effort, and even his vocalization. He was grunting more and louder as he hammered her harder and harder into the tree. If she wasn’t full of endorphins and dopamine the bark might have hurt, but everything—even the pain—felt good. It felt better than good, it felt incredible.
His fingers dug into the backs of her thighs, and his cadence began to wane. He was getting closer. Thank god, because so was she.
“It’s fine,” she dismissed. “I’ve come to terms with it. I also got checked after my ex …”
He nodded, understanding and not making her say the rest.
Then he helped her hop up on his hips and he was inside her in two thunderous heartbeats. How she managed to get so wet and turned on by their last conversation eluded her, but she was. She was slick and ready when he notched himself at her center and slid home. Their collective sighs of relief made her smile as she clung to him and he began to hammer her into the tree.
Nothing about this was conventional, or romantic, or sweet.
But holy hell, was it ever hot.
She’d never had sex anywhere but a bed before, let alone outside, on the side of the road with somewhat of a stranger.
And yet, no part of her—not even the voice of her mother, which sat permanently in the back of her brain criticizing her—told her this was a bad idea. Her mother’s voice would later. It was probably still asleep, that was all.
So since nothing was telling her to stop, and everything was telling her to take, to soak up the dopamine and oxytocin, and find some joy, she tilted her face skyward until her head hit the trunk, allowing his teeth to rake her neck and jaw, for his kisses and his thrusts to push her deeper into euphoria. She smiled at the pink and blue sky as the morning sun shot streaks of light through the clouds. She smiled at how incredible it was to feel joy without guilt and to be with someone who understood what it was like to want to run from joy because they didn’t feel they deserved it.
Bennett’s grunts and groans brought her back to reality, and she tightened her hold around his neck while locking her legs behind his back and tilting her hips. That made him groan, and she followed it with a moan of her own, because now his pubic bone was hitting her clit just right and she could see the edge she wanted to leap from. She ran toward it, met him thrust for thrust as best she could, clawed at his back, and dropped her mouth to his neck and nipped him.
“Christ,” he growled, holding the backs of her thighs and increasing everything: his speed, his effort, and even his vocalization. He was grunting more and louder as he hammered her harder and harder into the tree. If she wasn’t full of endorphins and dopamine the bark might have hurt, but everything—even the pain—felt good. It felt better than good, it felt incredible.
His fingers dug into the backs of her thighs, and his cadence began to wane. He was getting closer. Thank god, because so was she.
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A Canadian West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have two beautiful daughters and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn't end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it's not quite wine o'clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes.
A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With single dads, firefighters, Navy SEALs, mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role-playing, Whitley’s books have all the funny and fabulously filthy words you could hope for.
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