I Don’t is a New Adult Romantic Comedy standalone and early readers have already claiming Lucas DeCosta as their next book boyfriend!

 

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“I Do.”
My name is Whitney Wheeler and I’ve dreamed of saying those two words since
I was ten years old. I thought my dream was finally coming true.

Fate, however, has other plans. My perfectly planned life hits a snag eight days
before our wedding. I walk in on my fiancé on the couch with someone who isn’t
me. Trying to “blow off” that visual, and without thinking, I accept an invitation
to take a road trip with the boy who broke my teenage heart.

Lucas DeCosta is all man, and surprise surprise—a male stripper. Beyond his
movie-star good looks, his oh so sexy dance moves, and those big brown eyes, I
find a kind heart and the overall goodness of the boy who still sets my heart on
fire.
Each time he looks at me, I feel it.
Zing.
Zang.
Electricity.
It.
When life hands you lemons . . . take a shot of tequila and hand fate the keys to
your life. Because, sometimes the best thing to say is “I Don’t” before you can
ever say “I Do.”

Excerpt:

Slowly opening my eyes, I stretch my arms above my head and point my toes toward the bottom of the bed. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept that soundly. This bed must be made of angel wings or something, because it is heaven. Yep, I totally said that. I’m not even sorry.

Glancing over, Lucas’s bed is empty with the covers pulled up like he made it. He makes his hotel bed. Who knew there were two of us? I always make my bed, even in a hotel. The room is quiet except for the sound of the shower running. Thoughts of Lucas showering send a shiver up my spine. A shiver I have no right to. A shiver that is highly inappropriate for an engaged woman, but a woman I am, and that man is sex personified, and I would have to be without a pulse to ignore him.

Ignoring the full bladder begging me to barge in on his shower and relieve it, I instead grab my phone to check the time. It’s not too early, so I might as well bite the bullet and call my mom.

The phone doesn’t make it a full ring before she’s answering in a huff. “Whitney Nicole. Where are you?”

When Jessi or any of the girls use my full name, I’m okay with it. I find it funny. With my mom? Yeah, I’m eight years old again. “Momma.” That always makes her feel good.

“Don’t you Momma me, Whitney. Where are you? Trenton is going insane with worry . . .” The rest of her rant is white noise at the realization the cheating bastard called my parents. How dare he? He knows damn well my mother will lose her mind if there’s a possibility this wedding isn’t happening. “Daughter? Are you there?”

“Did you just call me ‘daughter’? Really, Mom?”

“Cut the shit, Whitney. When are you coming home? Your wedding is in five days. There is too much to be done for you to have cold feet. Suck it up and get your ass home. Your cousins and the rest of the family start arriving tomorrow. You are not leaving me alone with Aunt Carla.”

“Mother, she’s your sister.”

“Yeah well, she’s a pain in the ass. Probably going to wear white. That would be just like her . . .” More white noise as she rambles on about my aunt and her need to be the center of attention. I love Aunt Carla and wouldn’t consider getting married without her there.

With my phone nestled between my ear and shoulder, I start picking at my cuticle when a cloud of steam fills the room, and I look up to see Lucas walking in from the shower. Dressed in a pair of shorts and yet another snug T-shirt, he’s drying his hair with a towel, and when he catches my eye, a bright smile takes over his face.

Zing.
Zang.
Electricity.
It.

“Are you listening to me?” My mom’s shrill draws my attention back to the call, and I hold my finger up to my lips telling Lucas to be quiet. With a nod, he turns back toward the bathroom, and I turn my attention back to my mother. A little arguing, a few promises, and a guarantee I will be back for the wedding day, my call with my mom ends.

“It’s all clear.”

Lucas returns to the room, the smile now a smirk as he arches a brow to me and says, “I feel like a dirty secret.”

Rolling my eyes, I toss my phone on the bed and hop from the bed with the bathroom my mission. As I pass him, I tap his arm with a smile. “Not much dirty happening here but secret, yes.”

As I enter the bathroom, I swear I hear him say something about getting dirty and a little flutter hits me right in the lower belly.

About the Author:

Andrea Johnston spent her childhood with her nose in a book and a pen to paper.

An avid people watcher, her mind is full of stories that yearn to be told.

A fan of angsty romance with a happy ending, super sexy erotica and a good mystery, Andrea can always be found with her Kindle nearby fully charged.
Andrea lives in Idaho with her family and two dogs. When she isn’t spending time with her partner in crime aka her husband, she can be found binge watching all things Bravo and enjoying a cocktail. Nothing makes her happier than the laughter of her children, a good book, her feet in the water, and cocktail in hand all at the same time.

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