Guys like Tucker Moore didn't date girls like Kennedy. He had boring ol' washboard abs that looked like they were sculpted by the Gods, and Kennedy had more curves than a backroad in a country song. He could charm the panties off anyone he wanted, but Kennedy preferred to interact with her latest literary best friends.
He was her next-door neighbor, and the definition of a bad idea. She had no business thinking about him when she her hand up her own skirt to push the only buttons he had left untouched.
The only sliding she should have been doing was straight into the friend-zone. Which she did, faster than he could say "just friends." It didn't matter that Tucker spend more than in Kennedy's apartment than his own or that he smiled at her in a way that made her stomach flip.
That was just Tucker. And he was becoming Kennedy's best friend. Which made him completely off-limits. But a weekend away and a bag packed so full she couldn't fit her logic were their downfall.
Tucker and Kennedy were going to screw everything up, and she would be the one left Bottoms Up.
When I first read the synopsis of Bottoms Up I didn't think that I would actually enjoy this read. Turns out I was wrong. I found myself really enjoying Bottoms Up and while it wasn't one my favorites lately it defiantly was a surprise.
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