The Boys Who Loved Me - Krista Wolf Page 0,78

to be away. To put work and business behind us, even for a single weekend, just so we could get down to the city and enjoy each other.

“So about the three rings thing…” Warren started hesitantly.

“Yeah?” I chuckled.

“How about one ring with three diamonds.”

“Three really big diamonds?” I inquired.

“Big enough,” Luke answered. “Sure.”

I squinted as if considering before shaking my head. “I dunno,” I teased. “I’d have to see them.”

“Damn,” Warren groaned. “You really are spoiled!”

I sighed happily as we entered the elevator. “And don’t you forget it.”

All the way down to the street level I stood smiling, absently rubbing my pregnant belly. When life threw you a lemon, you made lemonade. And when life tossed you three at once?

Well… you turned it around and made a family out of them.

“Did I mention I love being your shared fiancée?” I asked, squeezing the two hands on either side of me.

The guys beamed as I practically glided down the sidewalk, floating on the giddiness of cloud nine.

“Not yet I don’t think,” Warren answered eventually. “But we’ll remind you, so you can tell us again later on…”

He winked seductively and blew me a kiss.

“After we’ve really shared you.”

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And for even more sweltering reverse harem heat? Check out: Stealing Candy - A Halloween Reverse Harem Romance. Below you’ll find a preview of the sexy, sizzling cover, plus the first several chapters so you can see for yourself:

Chapter One

CANDY

“Another round?” I yelled over the noise. Thankfully, at least one of the three of them heard me.

“Yes, and one more for our friends here!” said the blond one. Or rather, the most blond one. Because all three of the men at the end of the table — my Vikings, I’d called them — were equally gorgeous, and almost equally blond.

I hurried through the raucous tent, gathering empty steins along the way. I could carry twelve of them at a time now, and for some reason that made me proud. The thick glass clinked noisily, playing a distinct song as I made my way to one of the many bars.

Come for the summer! Stacy said. It’ll be fun! she said. They have an Oktoberfest!

It had all sounded so fantastic, especially when we were back home in Texas and bored out of our skulls. And it might’ve actually been good too, only my flighty best friend was no longer here.

Ahhhh, Stacy.

She called nightly, and text-messaged me often. But by now she was way down south, bouncing through the Florida Keys. And that’s because halfway through the summer she’d run off with Dante, the cute guy from the Farmer’s Market. A man she subsequently “fell in love with,” leaving me all alone in the cottage we were supposed to house-sit together.

And now…

Now I knew the Oktoberfest all too well, and that’s because I worked it. Each one of my last three weekends had been spent here in this overcrowded tent, sweating my tits off and smelling like the foam of a thousand German beers. The roar of the crowd didn’t bother me as much as the non-stop music, which played on and on in my head long after I’d gone home.

And then to top it all off, today it was raining.

“Hon! Hon!”

A middle-aged man in a feathered cap waded his way through the crowd, desperate to reach me. Clenched in one sweaty fist he had what amounted to two, possibly three dollars.

“Where do I tip you?” he asked gleefully.

His arm hung in the air questioningly for a moment, but his eyes dropped to his ultimate goal: my cleavage. The German beer maid costume I was required to wear pushed my breasts together nicely.

“Just leave it on the bar,” I ordered, setting down my empties and sweeping up six very full new steins.

The man glared back at me, cataclysmically disappointed. His arm slowly dropped.

“If you really wanna tip me, go shoot the accordion player,” I announced.

Summer. It was supposed to be awesome. Here in the historic village of Sleepy Hollow, Stacy and I had planned on lazy days and fun-filled nights. We’d been looking forward to wandering the lush parks and lazy rivers of upstate New York, and maybe even taking a couple of weekends in Manhattan as well.

“BEER WENCH!”

And now here I was, little more than a trussed-up beer wench.

“Hey