Free Hottie by Demi Alex, Tia Fanning

the computer and typed: Wanted!
    Phoebe worked until just before eleven o’clock. She’d written two thousand words in less than two hours, and even if it wasn’t the next chapter in her novel, it was definitely the newest chapter in her life. Hottie wanted her, and she wanted him. Reciprocated desire, simply for what it was and with no professional benefit, was new to her.
    Eric had not only used her as a housekeeper and cook, but as arm candy when he was out on business. Too bad his affection didn’t extend behind closed doors. Compared to Dane’s heat, Eric was a cold fish that totally sucked in the only kind of sexual activity he engaged in—headboard banging, rabbit-style fucking, with a small and insignificant penis. No wonder she’d preferred masturbating to him.
    An instant message chimed, pulling her back to the present.
    Bitch. You’re going to pay.
    Fuck off! She typed, then lowered the cover.
    Bad enough she’d ditched her phone because he’d harassed her for the dumb bracelet, but now he was stalking her on-line. Creepy. He was the one who wanted to end things, yet he couldn’t leave her alone. He wanted to humiliate her and make her feel like crap…to make it look like she took advantage of him and his money. Cheap bastard didn’t really want his ridiculous bracelet back. As if the thousand dollars she’d gotten for the shit would make a difference for him.
    She lifted the cover and blocked him before he had time for another attack.
    “Good riddance,” she muttered to her nonexistent audience, then stood and took her mug to the sink. That part of her life was over, and no matter what the asshole said, he wasn’t going to find her so far off the map. She’d emptied the bank account on the first day and hadn’t used a credit card since she hit the road. “No fucking trail, douche bag.”
    Phoebe washed her hands, and took extra care in drying them. She searched the cupboards and fridge, but came up empty with any possibilities for cooking a decent meal for a man she wanted to please. There was a tiny pantry off the kitchen by the back door, but the contents were extremely limited—tons of seasonings and spices, two fancy bottles of oil, a box of Frosted Flakes and three packages of Oreos. She’d have to go shopping.
    “Let’s see if my pink POS will start,” she mumbled, grabbing her keys off a nail inside the pantry, sliding into her flip-flops, and slipping out the back door.
    The scorching sun was ruthless. She tented her hand over her eyes and squinted as she spotted the Caddy and prayed the old vehicle would take mercy on her and start.
    But once she was seated behind the wheel, the car wouldn’t cooperate.
    Sweat beaded on her forehead and pooled between her breasts, moisture sleeked the back of her thighs, and her disappointment grew. All she wanted to do was grab a few things from the grocery store and make a nice meal for her hottie.
    “Damn Piece Of Shit!” Phoebe slapped the heel of her palm against the steering wheel and called it quits. Slamming the door and schlepping beneath the steamy shade toward the door, she practically tripped over a bicycle with a milk crate attached behind the seat.
    “Thank you,” she whispered, looking up at the cloudless sky. Such a tiny thing made her day and made her hope. She felt in her pocket for the twenty-dollar bill, and as soon as she found it, she mounted the bike and peddled in the direction of the small town Dane had spoken about the day before.
    Making good time, she found the little store on the one and only main street—Main Street. The town seemed to have three roads running parallel to each other, Main Street and two sort of no-name alleys, plus a single street running perpendicular to the other three, allowing people to walk from one to the other. She’d stepped, or rather peddled, back in time and arrived in an adorable romance novel of a town. The quaint food store even had a covered wooden porch with rocking chairs and