Mr. January Read online

  MR. JANUARY

  A FORBIDDEN ROMANCE

  S.E. LAW

  S.C. ADAMS

  Copyright © 2022 by S.E. Law and S.C. Adams

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  CONTENTS

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Raw and Curvy

  Sneak Peek: Second Helpings

  About S.E. Law

  About S.C. Adams

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  Samantha: Randy Sterling’s such an a$$hole. I hooked up with him months ago in a dark alley beside a reeking dumpster. Yeah, we were dirty together, and you’d think a girl who does *that* would get a phone call right?

  NO.

  It’s total silence from the handsome firefighter until one day, I get stuck on my roof trying to rescue my silly cat. Who does emergency services send but that asshole playboy! I practically tremble with rage when HE shows up.

  But I’m going to teach Mr. January a lesson…

  Soon the calendar model’s the one burning up in flames with his extinguisher out and pumping hard …

  Except that this particular emergency ends with the handsome man’s baby in my belly!

  * * *

  This is a follow-up to Playing With Fire, where we meet Samantha and Randy again after they snuck off to have some naughty fun at the grand opening of Burrata Pizza and Pasta. Randy’s a gorgeous (fire)man about town whom all the ladies swoon over, but he meets his match in the sassy Sam who won’t go down without a fight! Sparks fly, and thank God there’s a first responder on call because this situation calls for a professional. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always a HEA for my readers.

  1

  Sam

  * * *

  I laugh as baby Dahlia giggles loudly over the video screen. Maggie bounces Dahlia up and down on her knee and tickles her daughter’s sides, making the little girl practically scream with laughter.

  “She’s so cute!” I gush for what must be the millionth time since we started chatting.

  “I know, right?” my buddy asks before smooching her little girl’s cheek. “I can’t believe Dolly’s already a year old,” she adds in a fond tone. “It feels like Ed and I only got together just yesterday. Yet somehow, the proof of our love is already crawling around like a little locomotive. I swear, where has the time gone?”

  I smile while doing a little finger wave at the baby. “Easy, girlfriend. Time flies by when you’re having a good time, and Ed’s been so good for you, Mags. You know that I’ve known you forever, and I’ve never seen you so happy before. I think it’s absolutely, one hundred percent your husband.”

  My buddy giggles, brown curls flying.

  “Well, he does give it to me good in bed,” she confesses. “Practically every night, and many mornings too. So I’m definitely satisfied on that front.”

  I titter.

  “Steady sex will put a woman in a good mood. But come on, I know Ed’s good for you in other ways too.”

  Mags nods in quick agreement.

  “Oh, of course. He’s such a caring and attentive husband, and he takes such good care of me and Dahlia both. I’m totally appreciative. I’m just saying the constant sex doesn’t hurt either,” my buddy adds in a wicked tone. “He always has me coming back for more.”

  I laugh then because Mags deserves to be happy. After all, her marriage was something of a local scandal. Ed is the father of one of our high school classmates, and when people found out he and Maggie were seeing each other, the shit hit the fan. In fact, a Town Hall was convened to discuss the issue, but Maggie took the reins and put the kibosh on the gossip. She quit high school and married Ed, and that shut people up good. Then, our darling Dahlia was born, and no one’s heard a peep since.

  But even with all the controversy, I’m a little jealous because I’d love to find a man like Maggie’s husband. After all, Ed is older, but in a silver fox kind of way. He keeps in shape, so he’s insanely handsome, with a sculpted chest and sly smile. I just wish I could get my hands on someone like that. But the most ironic part is that I have – I hooked up with Ed’s younger brother, Randy, a while back, but I never heard from that asshole afterwards! Figures. He’s a gorgeous firefighter in Cedar Toms, so I guess every woman over fifteen is after him.

  But I try to be gracious.

  “I’m glad to hear you’re so happy, Mags. Seriously, I adore your husband just as much as you do.”

  She giggles.

  “Well, what happened with Randy?” she asks in a quizzical tone. “Hasn’t he called?”

  I snort.

  “I didn’t tell you this already?”

  She shakes her head while bobbling Dahlia in her lap.

  “Nope. I would have thought … well, let’s just say you guys were getting handsy at the Grand Opening of Burrata and I didn’t want to pry.”

  I snort.

  “Girlfriend, we were more than handsy. I mean, I let him hit it! At your restaurant’s grand opening, I gave it up to that loser beside a dumpster outside. What girl does that? The garbage reeked to high heaven, and I swear, I was looking at a pile of steaming dog shit while I took it up the ass. But the man hasn’t even attempted to communicate with me since. Ugh. Where did I go wrong?”

  Maggie’s eyes go wide.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” She leans even closer to her screen so that her features take on a fishbowl appearance. “Back up for a second, because I feel as if we’ve skipped a few necessary chapters! What dumpster? I mean, I saw you go outside with Randy during the party, but I thought all the dumpsters were out front, near the street. That’s weird.”

  I sigh because clearly, my friend is more concerned about her beloved restaurant than my sex life. It’s okay though because everyone has priorities, and Mags has put her heart and soul into her business. I don’t blame her with being concerned.

  “No, it’s fine,” I say. “It doesn't matter where the dumpsters were, but the thing is that Randy hasn’t called me since. It’s been crickets, and I guess I’m disappointed because I know what we did wasn’t exactly classy, but still. I deserve some acknowledgment, right? I mean, I basically became a dumpster diva diver for him.”

  Maggie covers her mouth with her hand and tries to keep a straight face, but I can still hear her stifled giggles. I pout as she shakes her head.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just—it’s just that this is so…I don’t even have the right words. You do though. Dumpster diva diver? Hysterical, girlfriend.” But then she manages to get her giggles under control and turns to me. “Seriously Sammie, I think you’re better off without Randy.”

  That makes me pause.

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “You’re not just trying to make me feel better are you?”

  She shakes her head.

  “No, I’m just saying you’re better off because Ed’s brother a total playboy. You know that he was Mr. January from last year’s firefighter calendar, and since then, girls have been spouting out of his years. From
what Ed tells me, it’s been like that since Randy was fifteen, actually,” she adds. “It’s just become even worse. It’s as if a dam burst ever since the calendar hit.”

  I sigh.

  “Well, that sucks for me. I mean, I thought that I went the extra mile. It wasn’t just looking at the pile of steaming dog shit, Mags. I think I stepped in it while we were doing it. Randy was going pretty hard, and I was rocking back and forth and… well, you know.”

  Sam clucks and shakes her head.

  “I do know, even if the experience is starting to sound totally gross. I mean, why didn’t you just get into the backseat of your car or something? Why risk it in such a filthy place?”

  I fix her a look.

  “It didn’t occur to us because we were that desperate to be together.”

  Mags giggles again and holds up a hand.

  “Okay, okay, I got it. Point made. But I promise that one day your prince will come because if it happened for me, it’ll happen for you.” I’m about to protest, but then Mags changes the subject. “Well, even if dating is a shitshow, at least school is going well, right?” she asks. “How are your classes? You were always so smart.”

  I sigh. I’m currently attending Cedar Toms Community College, and so far, it’s been dreadful. I merely pout and shrug lifelessly.

  “To be honest, it’s kind of blah. I’m feel like I’m taking a bunch of random classes that lead to nowhere. They’re so scattered, from Introductory Sociology, to English Lit 101, to Rocks for Jocks. I mean, I should throw in underwater basket weaving just for the heck of it at this point.”

  Maggie smiles sympathetically as I pretend to slit my own throat.

  “Don’t worry about it, Sam. You’ll figure things out as some point. You’re a smart girl, and you always land on your feet.”

  “Then make Mr. January call me!” I whine pathetically. “Randy is your brother in law, after all.”

  But Mags is firm as she jiggles Dahlia in her lap.

  “Nope. Like I said, girlfriend, I think you’re better off without that man. He’s just swimming in women, and I don’t think even a supermodel could get him to settle down. Seriously, you dodged a bullet. Trust me on this.”

  I give up.

  “Okay, okay, point taken. I’ll have to work on Mr. March then. Or Mr. April, May, June, or heck, any month will do.”

  “That’s the spirit,” my friend giggles. “Okay, the baby’s starting to get hungry, so I’ve got to give her the boob, but talk later, okay?”

  I wave and blow kisses at Dahlia.

  “Bye girlfriend. Bye sweetie! I love you,” I call to them both. Then, we hang up and I plop lifelessly backwards on my couch. It’s always good to talk with Maggie because my friend has such great perspective on things. If she says that I’m better off without Randy Sterling, then I probably am. But still, he was incredibly gorgeous, and it felt soooo good to be taken by a real man. I can still feel his broad hands on my waist, gripping tight as he shafted me again and again.

  But what am I doing? I can’t be daydreaming about Randy Sterling when I have no hope of ever seeing him again. He’s already made that abundantly clear with his silence, and my cat Calico lets out a meow of agreement. I snort while patting her head.

  “It’s just you and me, okay Cal?” I say in a sour tone. “I’ll die a spinster, and people will come to my abandoned apartment only to find you and a billion other cats mrowling about hungrily for food.”

  She lets out another yowl, and I slump deeper into the couch cushions. Dang. I didn’t think my cat would agree, but it seems that I really am going to die alone while dreaming of the handsome Randy Sterling.

  2

  Sam

  * * *

  I let out a small sigh as I scroll through my phone for the umpteenth time in the last couple of hours. It’s almost dead and yet I’m so lazy that I can’t even be bothered to get up from the couch to find my charger. Maybe once it dies, I’ll finally be motivated to start working on the crap ton of assignments that are all due before the week is out. Or maybe I’ll just slump down and hope that the couch swallows me whole instead. Yeah, that sounds more enjoyable.

  I’m just so low on energy, not to mention still bummed out and annoyed because of Randy. I just can’t stop thinking about the firefighter no matter how hard I try. I know it’s ridiculous because our hook-up happened months ago, yet I remember every little detail as if it too place just yesterday. The way he manhandled me so easily and put me in the positions that he wanted me to be in. The way he kissed me as if it was the last time that he’d ever get to kiss a woman in his life. The way he growled the filthiest words into my ear and held me with those big, strong hands of his while I had orgasm after orgasm…

  And then, radio silence. The gorgeous hunk of a man left me high and dry. WTF? Even worse, why did he ask for my number if he didn’t intend to use it? He could have just sent me on my way with a pat on the ass and a ‘thanks, that was fun!’ and left it at that, but instead he had to get my hopes up, only to cruelly dash them later. It’s so wrong!

  Oh well. I guess I should just stop dwelling on it and move on. Be a big girl, and pull your big girl panties up, I admonish myself. But then I slump back into the sofa, boneless once more, all motivation evaporating from my limp body. I scroll through Instagram again, staring at pictures of handsome men with their square jaws and broad, bronzed chests. Henry Cavill, Ryan Reynolds, and Tom Hardy. Now this is what I call healing.

  I’m just about to start watching some mindless TikTok videos when suddenly, my head quirks. What was that? Then, I realize it’s the silence making my ears ring because it’s been a while since I last heard my cat prancing around. That’s weird. Where’s Calico? My eyes narrow as I slowly sit up.

  My apartment is pretty small so I should be able to hear her doing her thing. But only silence greets my ears, and I sit up straighter, a little uneasy. Calico never goes outside because she’s strictly an indoor cat, and wouldn’t even know what to do if she were out in the big world. She’s a homebody who likes to bat her yarn balls around or knock things off my counter for no reason other than to be a jerk. If she’s not into something, she’s usually sunbathing in front of the window or sleeping under my bed.

  I walk around a bit, my senses alert. Where is that damn cat? My apartment is tiny, so there aren’t many places she could be. It’s just a one bedroom, so I look around the shabby living room and kitchen before heading into my bedroom. It’s a cozy space with a purple comforter covering the mattress, as well tapestries and polaroids pinned to the walls. And, of course, I’ve got some things for Calico, like her cat bed and a few cat trees and toys to keep her amused.

  But where is she? I check under my bed and see nothing. But when I glance at her favorite window, expecting to see her curled up on the ledge snoozing away, I see it then. The pane is cracked open just a bit, but I know my cat. She’s like a contortionist and would be able to squeeze through that three-inch gap.

  My heartbeat speeds up as I begin panicking. I’m not even thinking straight, so I try to push the window open wider and climb out myself before remembering that I can’t fit through the tiny crack. Clearly, I’m losing it. I have a front door that I’m perfectly capable of opening and walking out of, so I need to do it.

  I run out of the door and out onto the lawn of our apartment complex. It’s a gorgeous day, and the sun beats down on my head as I scramble over the green grass.

  “Calico, Calico!” I call, not caring if I sound like a crazy woman. “Where are you?”

  Worst-case scenarios start streaming through my mind. My cat is never going to survive out here. Look how big that tree is. Look at that person walking their humongous dog. Calico’s never been outside a day in her life, so what if she runs into the street and gets hit by a truck, or gets jumped on and eaten by some wild animal?

  I guess the odds of either of those things happening aren’t that high since this is suburban New Jersey, but still. My apartment complex is a
low-slung, two-story building with nothing but a bit of lawn and trees around it, so there could be a wild animal lurking in the bushes. Or maybe not.

  I try to remind myself to keep calm, but my heart’s pounding in my ears as my pulse races. Where is she? I race around some more, getting hot and sweaty, when I finally round a corner and hear a quiet mrow from up above. Where is that coming from? I cover my eyes with one hand and squint upwards. Is she stuck in a tree?

  “Calico?” I call a few times, trying to spot her among the leaves of an enormous oak. The meows continue, and finally, I see my damn cat on the roof of the apartment building. “Calico! What the heck?” I gasp. “What are you doing up there? How did you even—Calico, get down right now!”

  Despite my stern admonition, Calico doesn’t budge even a little bit. She continues looking down at me, tail whipping from side to side as she meows. Here I was thinking that the little shit was scared, but this is probably just one big game to her. Then again, I guess I’d think it was fun to be up on the rooftop too if I had nine lives, but I don’t, so what’s the appeal?

  “Calico, please!” I nearly beg. “You could get hurt if you fall from there! If you could figure out a way to get up there, can’t you figure out a way to come back down? Hmm? Calico, sweetheart, honey bun, bundle of joy, come down now!”

  She begins prancing around the roof as if she can understand every word that I’m saying, but she’s taunting me instead of doing what I say. I huff as I slap a hand to my forehead and try to think. I grumble to myself as I wrack my brain to come up with a solution, and the first thing I think of is the ladder that my superintendent keeps down in the car port.