​It’s so overused and often over said, but can you believe it’s already that time of year again? The end of the year holiday rush and madhouse has begun. The time of the year when generally normal, loving people turn into crazed beasts on a mission the minute the doors of the shopping malls open for business. Yikes!

I’d like to help you prevent that “inner beastmode” from emerging this holiday season and provide you with the opportunity to buy and win books and swag from me during my Sierra’s 25 Days of Christmas event happening now!

If you’re on Facebook but not on my reader group, Sierra’s Sexy Swooners, you really should change that.
I have invited some of my closest author friends – and some new ones – to join in me doing giveaways every day through Christmas. Join us now and have some festive fun! www.facebook.com/groups/1855398031355173/

You can also purchase signed books directly through me at a reduced price for those book lovers and romance readers on your shopping list this year. Just send me an email at sierrahillbooks@gmail.com with your selection and request, including your PayPal email, and I’ll handle it from there.

I hope you’ve had a great year in 2017 and that you’re looking forward to a bright, joyous 2018. I know I am! Thanks for being such a great reader group and just awesome people in general.

And stay tuned for my next year’s book events (Boston, Seattle, Phoenix and Vegas) and two new series (a M/F/M and a new spin-off of The Sweetest Thing, plus some other novellas coming!)
​
Blessings to you and yours this festive holiday season.

xoxo
Sierra

​ 
                                              Chapter One
                                                                               Joey
                                                        Didn’t his Mother teach him manners?

You’ve got this.
 
“Grady, have I sufficiently explained why it’s not a good idea to take dick selfies and share it with your friends?”
 
The fifteen-year-old boy sits slumped in his chair, hands crossed over his skin and bones chest -  a combination of embarrassment and teen angst emanating from his pout.
 
I tap his phone in my hand trying to buy myself a bit more time as I try to figure out how to handle this. And trying not to laugh out loud.
 
​I could take it to the principal, but she’s such an old hag, it would only make it worse. Or, I can explain as best

I can how doing stupid things will give him stupid results.

  Grady mumbles, “Yes, Miss Hughes.”

  “Just promise me next time, when and if you get a chub in class, go take care of it discreetly in the boy’s restroom. And keep your phone in your pants. Got it?”

  “Yeah,” he replies. “Okay.”

  I heave a sigh and hand back the phone to my student, making mental note to thoroughly sanitize my hands after this incident. Who knows what kind of stickiness covers his screen.

  “Okay, you’re excused. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

  He practically jumps from his chair and runs out the door, where I hear chuckles and laughter from his friends waiting outside in the busy hallway. Picking up my laptop and materials, I head out the same door, shaking my head and trying to stave off the laughter that’s about to burst from my chest.

  Only twelve more school days until summer break. I’ve got this, I repeat to myself. It’s the only mantra that works this close to the end of the school year. Especially when I have huge dose of teenagers to manage every day.

  I guess if I have to keep reassuring myself that I’ll be out of this hell hole in less than two-weeks, it’s likely not my true calling. The teaching gig was my mother’s idea and the only way she’d pay for my college education. So until I figure out another career and plan for my life, I’m stuck here.

  But I can last another twelve, nerve-racking days with these stinky, bratty, annoying-as-hell, nose-in-their-phones high schoolers. 

  No problem. It just calls for copious amounts of wine to do it.
  Taking a fortifying breath, I head into the teacher’s lounge. This room is meant to be a heavenly oasis away from the sea of raging teen hormones and bad hygiene. Instead, it’s a jungle of awkward adults who smell like bologna and cheap aftershave.

  I glance around the room and see that it’s the usual suspects. As I walk over to my cubby to grab my sack lunch, Howard Peters greets me with his amused coffee-stained smile.

  “Well, if it’s not our own Joey Kangaroo,” he chirps, his handlebar mustache doing a weird dance across his mouth.

  I cringe at the stupid nickname he’s given me, as well as the idea that this guy gets laid on the regular with that thing on his lips. The dude is weird with a Capital Strange.

  “Hey, Howard the Duck. How’s it going?”

  At least I can hit him back with an equally embarrassing nickname.

  He waggles his bushy eyebrows. “Another day, another phone confiscated.”

  Howard is one of the sophomore science and biology teachers and is notorious for seizing the phones of his students who blatantly disregard his rules for no phones in his classroom. He pockets them for the entirety of the day, in hopes it will teach the kids a lesson in respect. I’m not necessarily a proponent of this method, but to each his or her own, I guess. 

  I think most of my peers think I’m a pushover and too lax with my students – thereby creating my own set of classroom problems like what occurred today with Grady.

  But generally speaking, the kids are respectful and I give them just enough latitude that they feel like I respect them. Plus, I’m also closer to my students’ ages than the other faculty, and I have other means of gaining their respect and attention.

  Some of the older teachers, like Dolores Conk, frown upon my technique. But whatever. I’m not here to win her approval.

  But somedays are harder than others and I often wonder why I’m even here at all.

  I take the empty seat next to Howard and smile at the other teachers at the table. We’ve all had the same lunch schedule for the past school year and know quite a bit about each other’s personal lives.

  Sometimes things become a little creepy with the TMI. Like for instance, the oversharing of Howard and his wife, Jasmine’s, new “pony” position. It sounded an awful lot like regular doggie style, but apparently when you add in a crop and a saddle, it’s like horses gone wild.

  I smile at the teacher seated across from me, her mousy blond hair pulled back into her usual ponytail. 

 “Hey, April. How was the fieldtrip to the capital yesterday? I see you’re still standing, so that’s a good sign.”

April Mullins is about ten years older than me and is probably the nicest woman I know. We’ve become friends outside of work, as we’re both avid readers of Jane Austen, and attend a lot of literary functions. 

 What I admire about April, and where she differs greatly from me, is that she really loves teaching and doesn’t seem jaded yet by the system.

  Me, on the other hand, could be sold in an Asian market as fine jewelry. Get it? Jaded?
April rubs her eyebrow nervously. She’s a little quirky in her own nervous-tick kind of way. But that didn’t stop her from finally meeting the man of her dreams, an even quirkier fellow named Tanner.

  “The good news is that I came back with all twenty-eight students. The bad news is that Demarcus Lange was caught making out in a hallway with his girl du jour.”

  She continues to pluck at her bushy eyebrows, a small grin touching the corners of her mouth.

  We all nod along at the story, knowing full well it could have happened to any one of us. Demarcus was in my English class last year and he’s definitely a kid who will try to get away with anything.

  Shelle Collins, the arts teacher, heaves a heavy sigh next to me. I turn and give her a wide-eyed stare.

  “That boy,” she groans, shaking her head. “He’s trouble just like his older brother Deshawn was two years ago. You know I caught him stealing some paint thinners and aerosols from my classroom a few months ago?”

  Call me dumb, but it doesn’t even click with me why in the world he’d want to steal that.

  I swallow my bite of sandwich and ask, “Maybe he was working on an art project and couldn’t afford the supplies.”

  Shelle pats my hand patronizingly. “Oh, my sweet lil’ angel,” she says with a bit of a southern drawl.     

 “Demarcus was going to use them to get high, honey. He was caught with three other boys behind the school with the bags and cans in hand.”

Oh my God. Maybe I’m too sheltered for this job. Do kids really think it’s a good idea to mess with toxic chemicals?

“Wow. That’s awful. I had no idea they did that.”

To say I grew up in a sheltered mid-West home is to say the Cubbies only had a “little bad luck” winning the series all those years.

Howard pipes in, shaking his head. “These kids.”

He noshes on his sandwich, his mustache looking like a caterpillar wiggling on his face. Howard is so nonchalant about the whole thing, as is Shelle.

The topic of conversation changes to April’s upcoming wedding. She’s getting married this summer to the guy she just met six months ago. If there were ever a couple that was meant to be, it would be these two.

They met at a cosplay event at the Chicago ComiCom when their swords got tangled together on the escalator.

Ah, true love.

I try to tune back in to the happier discussion about the floral arrangements and colors she’s selected, and how there will be a sci-fi themed photo booth but my mind is now too far away.

Only twelve more days and then I can take a break. Get away from this teen-filled world and figure out what I want to do for the rest of my life. Because I know I’m not there right now.

                                                                             ***

I’ve been in the Chicago area for the last six years. After graduating from the University of Illinois, I was lucky to be offered a job right out of school in Chicago.

Well, if you ask my mother, she wouldn’t consider it luck. More like shit luck. She can’t possibly comprehend why I’d want to remain in Chicago, that “dirty, filthy city” instead of coming back home to South Bend, Indiana. Where in her mind, I’d find a good teaching gig and marry as soon as reasonably possible, popping out a few grandchildren along the way.

Somedays, her voice chimes in my head like a broken record and I do wonder why I chose to remain in

Chicago. Granted, being five hundred miles away from my mother is definitely a benefit, but this city can be harsh on a single girl. And not just the heat of the summers or the chill factor of the winters.

I’m already exhausted from teaching in the system only two years. I’m in one of the largest school districts in the U.S., where nearly four-hundred-thousand students walk through our classrooms on an annual basis. In schools that are run-down, in need of repair, and have little to no funding for any proper supplies or learning materials.

Yet for the one-hundred and twenty kids I work with each day, there’s something gratifying about it, too.

When I see that lightbulb click on for the student who was struggling and I helped them find their answer, it’s absolutely brilliant. But even with those one in a hundred students, I still know in my heart-of-hearts that it’s not my true passion.

I only went into teaching because of my parents. Am I happy about being a teacher? I’ve yet to have the same level of excitement that some of my friends have in their teaching roles. There are days when I do feel that sense of reward.

But not today. I just want to sink into my couch and go to sleep. But my neighbor, Patrick, invited me over tonight to watch Stranger Things on Netflix.

Before you get too excited about the chill part - don’t. That isn’t happening. And will never happen.

Patrick is absolutely not interested in getting it on with me. I don’t have enough testosterone in my body or facial hair for his liking. Which reminds me, I need to add waxing strips to my shopping list.

Once again, my mother’s romantical ideas of me meeting and falling head over heels with a successful, gorgeous man haven’t come to fruition. She and Patrick met when I moved into this place a year ago and she fell madly in love with him.

I don’t blame her. Patrick is an enormously handsome, albeit ego maniac of a man. Tall, strong, washboard abs, nice ass and gorgeous tasseled dark hair. He’s a beautiful specimen of a man, but unfortunately for me, does not like women.

He loves his men. Especially if they are lean, hot young twinks.

Which is totally fine by me. Pat is a great friend, a good neighbor and I like the fact that I can just hang with a man without having to keep an eye out for wandering hands.

Shifting the bag of Doritos I’m holding over to the crook of my other arm, I knock on Patrick’s door.

“Yo, Handsome Pat. Open up.”

I hear the yippy bark and the click, click, click of Pat’s wiener dog, Mr. Woodcock, from behind the door just before it swings open and I’m greeted with the broad white smile of Patrick Donaldson.

Seriously, the man always looks like he stepped out of a photoshoot from GQ.

“Cool your jets, Joey girl. I’m here and ready to sweep you off your feet.”

I push past him with a “pfft” but not before bending down and giving a quick pat on the head to Woody, as he’s affectionately called.

Setting the goodies on the counter, I turn back to face Pat, who’s shutting and locking the door.

“Do you think I’m too innocent?” I ask, curious as to how he sees me.

The whole notion of me not recognizing why a teenager would want a can of aerosol has been eating at my conscience all day. I guess I need an outsider’s opinion.

Pat steps in front of me, his fingers framing his chiseled and stubbled chin and cocks his head.

“Hm. Let me see,” his eyes wander over my face, down my neck, past my boobs and back up again. “Your
body screams sexually experienced, but yes, I think you’re too naïve for your own good. You’re like little Cindy Brady. Or Doris Day. Or little Orphan Annie.”

I throw back my hand and send it flying into his bicep, hitting muscle so hard my knuckles crunch at the connection point.

“Asshole” I begin to whine when I hear the bathroom door opening and the sound of the toilet flushing.

My eyes go wide with surprise as I see a guy I don’t know walking out of the guest bath. My gaze zooms back on Patrick.

I had no idea someone else would be here tonight on our Netflix and chill night. I mean, I’m not opposed to

Pat inviting a date over to join us, but this is a first. Call me selfish, but part of me enjoys just spending alone time with Pat. He’s the closest thing I have to a brother.

Patrick gives me a half shrug and glances back toward the guy who is now plopped down on the couch, the back of his head the only thing visible from where I stand. Woody dances at my feet eagerly awaiting me to pick him up. Bending down, I hoist him up and hold him under his belly before checking out the man on the couch.

All I can see is the back of a faded Cubs hat. I’m perplexed and a little offended that whomever this dude is he doesn’t even bother to come in and introduce himself.

Rude much?

I scowl and roll my eyes so that Patrick sees the injustice being served by his guest.

He takes a few steps toward the guy and thwamps him on the top of his hat.

“Hey, asswipe, we have company. I want to introduce you to my neighbor, Joey.”

The guy barely looks my way, just a flick of his eyes before returning to the TV, as his hand comes up in a flippant wave. All I see of his face is a hard profile, covered with a few days scruff that frames his perfectly sculpted jaw.

He looks like a college frat boy and is even dressed like one. I just don’t see the attraction Patrick would have with him, since most of his dates are impeccably dressed and coifed.

This guy looks like he’s just getting off a two-day bender.

And he’s not as young as the typical Pat boy-toy. This dude is far from his usual type. This guy looks downright homeless. Aside from the old baseball hat, he’s donning a loose-fitting rumpled t-shirt and faded jeans that look like they haven’t been washed in months.

“Joey, this is my friend, Theo.”

Patrick returns next to me and leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “He’s a bit surly. Had a bad day.”

Well, gee, buddy. So have I, but you don’t see me treating people so disrespectfully.

Whatever. I’ll take the high road.

My voice is chipper. “Nice to meet you, Theo.”

He grunts, his attention not leaving the TV. Loud sports noises blast through the speakers and you can barely hear my thinly disguised grunt of disapproval. Patrick laughs and walks into the kitchen, ignoring the poor manners of his friend. 

“Everyone okay with gumbo and cornbread?”

I place Woody on the floor and walk in the small, yet modern kitchen that’s nearly identical to mine.

“Mm. That’s what smells so delish in here?” I grin, pulling off the cover of the large pot on the stove, leaning in to take a long inhale of spicy aroma. My mouth immediately begins to water and my stomach growls. It certainly beats my box of mac and cheese in my pantry.

Pat shoos me away, removing the lid from my hands and begins to stir the spicy concoction.

We stand side-by-side, his broad frame about six inches taller than me, our shoulders pressed together.

I give a surreptitious glance over my shoulder before I say anything to Pat. He’ll be able to detect my underlying pettiness in my voice.

“What’s his deal?”

He cocks his head, bending to my ear. “Theo is a good guy, just going through a rough time. He has a beautiful soul and I love him.”

“Well, regardless. His mother did a horrible job teaching him manners.”

​I suppose if Pat gives him such a glowing endorsement and feels that strongly for him, I’ll have to do my best to get along with him.

After all, he’s not the guy I’m sleeping with, so it really shouldn’t matter one bit what I think.  

This is what it looks like when dreams come true, my friends. In a million, gazillion years I wouldn’t have ever considered being interviewed and spotlighted on USA Today’s Happy Ever After column. But there you have it! It happened and I’m honored and thrilled.
Read the interview here: happyeverafter.usatoday.com/2017/07/13/sierra-hill-interview-sweet-disaster/
Sweet Disaster, my ninth full-length romance, and the 4th in The Sweetest Thing series, was just published on July 13th and received a spot on the daily HEA interview/author spotlight. What an honor it is. I hope you’ll consider reading it and find out a little about my writing process and what went into developing the characters and storyline in Sweet Disaster.
Reviews are coming in for it now and readers seem to like the chemistry between Kady Griffin and Gavin Lancaster. It’s nice to hear that Kady – the rebellious middle child in the Griffin family – is connecting with many of you. She was a really tough character to write and very different from my other female main characters in this series. But her story needed to be told. She doesn’t fit the typical mold and so it makes her unique and different.
Pick up your copy of Sweet Disaster now at these ebook retailers. And THANK YOU for your continued love and support of this series!

Buy Links for Sweet Disaster: 

​Amazon:  http://tinyurl.com/y88blm5k
B&N: http://tinyurl.com/ybpbmz62
iBooks: http://tinyurl.com/yavwku6u
Universal Link: https://www.books2read.com/u/mdKrDR

Here’s an exclusive from Sweet Disaster, Book 4 in The Sweetest Thing series, coming July 13th! Add to your Goodreads TBR now! https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35150206-sweet-disaster

Chapter 1
Kady

     My parents are going to kill me.

Not literally. Well, maybe…God, I hope not.

Once they find out what I’ve done and where I’ve run off to, killing me will likely be at the top of their list for punishment options.

My dad is a well-known criminal lawyer, so if they do murder me, they’ll probably get off scot-free. I wouldn’t blame them at all for being upset with me for what I’ve done, because this is the worst mistake I’ve ever made in all my nineteen years of life.
   
     I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but this one takes the cake.
   
     I’m what you might call a walking disaster.
   
     Believe me when I say, I’ve fucked up a lot.

     And now I’m in a predicament I can’t get out of on my own.

Every family has someone like me to deal with. The one they term the “black sheep” and the one they all shake their heads at whenever they screw up again.

It’s my lot in life. Growing up as the middle-child in a family of three, I had to find a way to stand out from my other two siblings, who are by most standards scientific geniuses. How could I possibly compete with that? I don’t have a head for math or science like either of them. My attention span and focus in the classroom is not my finest attribute.

I’ve concluded, while sitting here at a café in Florence, that my only option is to summon the help of my brother, Cade, who will undoubtedly flip the hell out and probably disown me. But I have no other way out of this mess.

Opening my Skype chat icon on my iPad, I stare at it like it has all my answers. I finally bite the bullet and hit the profile with Cade’s picture.
   
     I barely breathe as it rings.

While it waits for a connection, I consider the one positive of this misadventure this time. It’s that both my brother, Cade, and sister Kylah, have stepped up to the plate to take the heat off me by dropping their own bombs on my parents this week. While I’ve been trekking across Europe with my friend, Isadora, Cade proposed to his girlfriend of a year, and Kylah announced that she’s transferring colleges and will be moving in her with boyfriend, Van.

     The perfect diversions.

My hope is that my parents will be so frazzled over those announcements that it will keep them off my trail for a bit while I figure out the solution to this conundrum. 

This little predicament that I’m in isn’t solely that I’ve been gallivanting around Europe with my best friend Izzy for the last two weeks, without my parents’ knowledge, but also the fact that I may have messed up my life by failing out of my first year of college. And I don’t plan on going back next year, either.

     And if that’s not bad enough?

I’m now stranded in Florence, Italy without any means of getting back. My passport and wallet were in the backpack that was stolen from me last night at a party, leaving me with only the money I’d pulled out and tucked in my pocket.

     Did I mention that I’m a complete disaster?

     Cade is my only option and I pray he’ll be willing to help me out.

     There’s always the chance he can tell me to go fuck myself.

As I wait for him to pick up, I take in surroundings to gather my wit. Florence, or Firenze as it’s known to Italians, is such a beautiful city – offering a peaceful solace this time of morning. Shop keepers are just getting around to opening their storefronts, sweeping the dust from their doorsteps and setting out their goods to sell the mass of tourists that travel this city every day. 

I’m resolved to find a way to stay here for a bit longer because I don’t want to go home just yet and leave all this behind. I have exactly one-hundred U.S. dollars available right now. Given the Euro exchange rate, that accounts for barely enough for a hotel room, dinner and a glass of wine tonight. I could check into a hostel, but those can be sketch. And there’s bed bugs. Gross.

Honestly, leaving now would feel like I was giving up on this grand adventure, when I still have so many historic cities to visit. I’ve had my share of failures lately, and leaving in defeat would just be yet another one to add to my ever-growing list.

     By the time Cade answers my call, I’ve put on my game face. Ready for battle.

     But not too proud to beg.

The screen pops up with the image of my sleep-deprived and slightly irritated face of my older brother comes into view. He doesn’t look happy to see me. Then again, he’s never very happy to be in my presence.
Cade lets out a long-suffering sigh and rolls his eyes. “What the fuck, Kady? Do you know what time it is? It’s the middle of the night and I was sleeping, goddammit. Some of us actually have jobs that we need to get up for in a few hours.”

Oops. I forgot about the time difference in my need to fix my financial problems. It’s early here in Florence, meaning it’s the middle of the night back home in Phoenix.

Even though he’s seemingly angry with me, I’ve never been so happy to see his face. I smile as he turns on the lamp next to his bed and scoots back against his headboard. I see Ainsley stir in the corner of the screen, pieces of her long, black hair strewn across her pillow.

Cade started his new job as a biomedical engineer at a prominent hospital this week. He could have become a pro basketball player, but instead chose a profession where he’d work to find viable solutions to the world’s medical problems. And Ainsley, his fiancée, is on track to graduate next year with a nursing degree. They’re both amazing people who have their lives mapped out in front of them.

All I have in front of me are crumbs from my breakfast croissant. It sucks that I’ve ended up in this destitute predicament, because Cade will only give me more shit.
 
Biting my lip, I make my apologies. “I’m sorry I woke you up, Cade. I forgot the time difference. But I really need your help.”

I never plan on screwing up. Who does? With the school thing, I had every intention of buckling down, as my dad would say, and trying hard to hit the books. But I had so much fun partying with my new friends at school, that classes and coursework soon became irrelevant and weren’t a priority.

By the time the school year ended, I was so embarrassed by my lack of achievement that I couldn’t possibly go home with my tail between my legs, having to explain to my family how and why I flunked out of college and why I don’t plan to go back.

That’s why Izzy and I booked a flight to Amsterdam right after school ended and we’d decided to spend the next three months in Europe. I want to be inspired. Learn about other cultures. And meet as many gorgeous foreign men as I can possibly cram into the summer abroad. Izzy and I were having the time of our lives…

     Until this teeny-tiny hiccup.

He scoffs. “Just like you forget everything important. Sometimes, Kady, you are the most thoughtless and self-absorbed person I know.”

I blink back hot tears and glance away, focusing on the old man across the piazza from me. He’s whistling a little tune to himself. In the short time I’ve been in Italy, I’ve noticed a lot of Italians whistle or hum as they go about their day. It’s rather sweet.

     “Shit, K…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just fucking tired. Real-life is exhausting.”

I wave his apology away with a flick of my hand. He’s right. I am self-centered and the definition of every other self-absorbed word in the dictionary. I’m completely opposite from Kylah. She’s the martyr and saint between the two of us. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see a statue erected in one of these old cathedrals in her honor.

     Saint Kylah. Revered by all.

     Fallen Angel, Kady. A nuisance and a mess.

My voice is soft and remorseful. “It’s okay, Cade. I honestly neglected to remember the time difference. I’m really sorry. But I wouldn’t have called you now if it wasn’t an emergency.”
Cade moves from the bed and walks out into his hallway, closing the door behind him so as not to disturb Ainsley.

     “Why? What’s going on? Are you okay?” His tone is now that of a worried big brother.

     Apparently, I’m easy to read.

     “Don’t be mad…”
     
     Damn, this is hella difficult.

I hate having to beg and acknowledge I’ve screwed up. Especially with my brother, who already has a Savior complex. A few months back, just as he and Ainsley were getting serious, he helped her rescue her sister, Anika, who’d been abandoned by their mother. It was terrifying and everyone was in hysterics, but he kept his cool and did what he had to do.

“Oh Christ, what the hell did you do now?”

There goes all his concern. I scrunch my nose offensively, slightly hurt by his accusation. While he has reason to assume something bad has happened, otherwise I probably wouldn’t be calling, he doesn’t have to point out this isn’t a one-time isolated incident.

“Shut up, dickhead. I didn’t do anything wrong. Not technically. It’s just…” I stall, breathing in deeply to gather my strength. My determination. My mojo.

I think back to last night, and the party we attended after meeting some touring musicians from Denmark and Izzy’s harebrained idea to run off with the band.

She’d tried hard to convince me to go with her. “Come on, Kady…you have to come with us. I can’t believe you’d rather stay here.”

“Iz, I can’t just leave the country now. I have no ID and no money. I need to call Cade tomorrow to see if there’s anything he can do to help me get this sorted out. There’s no way I’m calling my dad.”
Izzy simply slammed her drink down, sending the contents sloshing over the edge, and told me that I was fucking crazy to give up this once in a lifetime opportunity. Maybe she was right? If I had gone with her, at least I’d be with someone I know right now instead of sitting at a corner café table overlooking the Piazza Doumo, alone and uncertain, rethinking my decision to stay behind.

Cade’s voice has risen to an angry pitch. “It’s just what?” he snipes, growing annoyed and impatient as he runs his hand through his tousled bedhead.

Blowing out a breath, I come clean. “I’m stranded. In Florence. I’m down to my last few Euro’s that will only get me through the night, and my wallet and my passport were stolen last night. I was hoping…”

I’m unable to finish the sentence when he interrupts.

“Jesus H. Christ. You’re stranded in fucking Italy? What is the matter with you, Kady? Can’t you ever do anything without it becoming a full-on drama?”

While his assessment of my past behavior is rather hurtful, but perhaps accurate, I try to hold myself together. Being respectful of the time and his whereabouts, I place my finger against my closed lips, asking him to be quieter.

“Pipe down, Mr. Hostile. You’re going to wake Ainsley and Anika. What I was trying to say is that until I’m able to pull more money out of my trust fund, which I can’t get to right now until I have an ID, I need some help. It’s just a temporary loan until I can pay you back at the beginning of the month.”

To fund my trip of a lifetime, I’d tapped into my trust fund established by my grandparents when I was a kid. I’m only allowed a specific withdrawal amount every month until I turn twenty-one, unless I have a specific purchase that supports my future – like oh, for example, college tuition.

     Cade’s wheels are turning. I can see it in the flash of his blue eyes. I hold my breath and wait.

     His response is emphatic. “No.”

     My head jerks back with the force of his denial.

“No? Are you serious right now? You’re just going to leave me stranded here, alone, without any money? Without a place to stay? Cade, please…” My lip quivers in terror, and my whine is that of a two-year-old girl.   

Even if I penny-pinch my meager allowance and find ways to be frugal with my day-to-day expenses for the next few weeks, it’s not enough to prevent me from ending up on the streets like a vagrant. I don’t know anyone in the city, or someone to crash with temporarily. No way to get a job. I’m helpless.

     Cade shakes his head, clearly frustrated with me and my childish behavior.

“Listen,” he starts, rubbing his temples. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you. I’ll wire you enough to get you by for the next day or so. But Kady, you got yourself into this mess, you need to figure out a way out of it. I’m not going to just bail you out completely. It’s called being an adult. I think I may know a guy who’s over there right now playing ball for one of the Italian teams. He’s Christian Lancaster’s younger brother.”

I flip through my brain archives to see if I can recall ever meeting Christian. He played with Cade on his ASU basketball team. I think he was the tall, dopey guy I met a few times. He’s kind of an idiot.

     As I’m mulling this over, the waitress from the café stops by my table and asks me if I’d like more coffee.

     I nod my head and hand her my empty cup. “Si. Per favore. Grazie.”

     Cade’s eyes bug out on the screen when the girl walks away.

     “Wow, she was…”

I scowl at him for his indecent behavior. “Dude, you’re an engaged man. You can’t be looking at other women now.”

He laughs, taking a peak behind him at his closed bedroom door. Yeah, that’s what I thought. “You’re right.

But I’m not dead. A guy can admire a beautiful woman. Are all the Italian ladies that hot?”

From behind me I can hear the waitress snicker from inside the doorway of the little café.

“Yes, they are. And shush, she can hear you, ya know. And I’m sure Ainsley can, too. Don’t be such a douche canoe. You’ve got a gorgeous fiancée in your bed right now.”
Cade nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Anyway, getting back to your predicament.”

I consider the options in front of me. I may be stuck in Firenze a little longer than I expected. Maybe I can get hired on in one of the businesses around here temporarily. And as far as accepting help from this guy, perhaps I could crash at his place for just a few nights until I can figure out a more sustainable plan.

     “So, what’s this guy’s name and how do I get in touch with him?”

     Cade’s typing something in his phone. Probably a text to Christian.

“It’s not a sure thing. I don’t even know if he’s in Florence or not. He might be on the road in an away game. But, for what it’s worth, his name is Gavin. And as soon I hear back from Christian, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, find me a place where I can send you some money.”

I smile sweetly at my older brother, tears prickling at the corner of my eyes. While we might have our differences, he’s always been someone I can count on. Maybe I don’t mind his Savior complex.

“Thanks, Cade,” I say, pressing my hand above my heart so he can see my sincerity. “I really appreciate this. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

     I blow a kiss at the computer screen as he flips me off and grunts.

     “Just stay out of any more trouble for now. Okay?”

     I can make no such promises.

 
Chapter 2
Gavin
 
Fuck, my knees hurt.

As do my shoulders, my back and my feet.

The only thing that might make it out of Bologna intact and in good shape is my dick. Which is currently being sucked off by a beautiful Italian girl. Yeah, my cock is feeling pretty damn good right now, helping me to forget all about my other aches and pains associated with the game of basketball.

The female fans in Italy are ravenous for American players. They are some of the best things about playing in Europe this year. I hate complaining about this opportunity, but the last few months have rather sucked for me. Not only have I never been away from home for this long, but my play has been totally off center lately. I can’t seem to hit the rim or the basket.

My entire future career is riding on my performance over the next few months of the season. If I don’t get my shit together, I might as well hang up my jersey and call it quits, because I’ll never get into the NBA like I want to.

While I was thrilled at first to experience life overseas, and I’m making a good living, doing what I love to do, I miss home. I miss my mom and my brother. My friends and just life in the U.S.

I don’t have any regrets about where I’m at right now. I just wish I could turn my play around. It makes me wonder if maybe I should’ve opted to go to college first. But I chose instead to draft overseas. It was the only option for a guy like me, because there was no way I was getting a scholarship to a four-year college.

Simply put, I couldn’t make the grade. While my basketball skills are strong, my scholastic ability lacks considerably. I barely squeaked by to graduation to earn my high school diploma. There was no way I could make the 2.5 grade point average required for a spot in college. Community college may have been an option, but I only wanted to play basketball, not go to class.

My dream since the fourth grade was to play pro basketball. And moving over to the European league was my best shot at it for my future.

My agent told me that it would provide me better eligibility when it came time to draft into the NBA. So, that’s what I did. I achieved a spot in the European Basketball Association (EUBA) playing for the Firenze Fury and moved to Italy six months ago.

The first three months were epic. Traveling around the country, playing against really competitive teams and becoming a big celebrity player, adored by Italian fans everywhere. What young guy doesn’t love that?

Unfortunately, the novelty began to wear off. My understanding of the language is limited – I have trouble enough reading and writing in my own English language, much less a foreign one – and the majority of Italians don’t bother trying to speak English.

Case in point, the chick whose lips and hands are currently wrapped around my dick.

It’s a good thing sex is a universal language and my body understood exactly what she wanted to do with me after tonight’s game. She was waiting outside when I came out of the arena, ready to commiserate our team’s loss with a few of the other players at a local tavern. And now I’m in the bathroom of the dingy bar getting a blow job.

Not a bad way to spend the evening.

My hand lands on top of her long hair, dark as Italian espresso, as her wide brown eyes find mine in the dim light of the bathroom. She moans and the vibration rattles through my shaft, my balls tightening as they ready to let go.

I drop my head against the concrete wall, growling in pleasure. “Fuck, yeah...veloce…buono...”
There are a few Italian words I’ve become familiar with. Veloce is faster and buono is good. And she is bella. Incredibly beautiful.

The girl continues sucking my cock into the back of her throat like a champ. I’m getting close, feeling the tingling sensation climb up my legs, ready to release my load into her mouth when my phone goes off in my pocket, temporarily ceasing her movement and distracting me from my pleasure.

The girl, I think her name is Natalia, lifts her brown-eyed gaze to me, her fingers stilling on my balls. I pause, waiting a beat to see if it’ll just go to voicemail. When the ringing stops, I give her a nod to continue.

“Ancora, per favore.” She understands my limited Italian request for more.
Natalia resumes her expert sucking, taking me deep into her mouth again so I hit the back of her throat. I groan wildly, so close to shooting my load when my damn phone goes off again.

“Fuck.” I grit out impatiently.

I slam my palm against the cold wall behind me, the noise reverberating across the stall, but Natalia waves me off. Her only concern seems to be getting me off. And fuck, I want that too. I’m desperate for it.

She hums against my stiff cock and nothing can stop me now as I begin to come in long jets down her throat, my hand tightening at her scalp as I pulse through the pleasure.

“So good,” I murmur, dropping my hand from her head, watching her through my euphoria-filled eyes as she slides her lips off my wet dick. She grins a sexy smile, wiping her mouth in clear satisfaction.

My legs are unsteady and feel like putty, either from the awesome orgasm or from after-game exhaustion. I breathe in deep, trying to regain my balance and lending her my hand to assist her up to her feet. I place a quick kiss to the tip of her nose.

​Sliding my now limp dick back into my pants, my phone goes off once again.
Natalia says something in Italian which sounds a lot like annoyance and I shrug, grabbing the phone from my pocket.

“Yo. Speak.”

I’m hoping my tone will tell the caller that I’m not in the mood to hold a conversation. I have other things to do tonight. Specifically, the woman in front of me, with the plump cleavage and nipples poking through her blouse.

I can tell immediately that the caller isn’t local because there’s a crackly pause before I hear the voice on the line. It’s a male voice I don’t recognize.  

“Hey, is this Gavin Lancaster?”

Puzzled by who’s calling, I pull the phone from my head and look at the display. It’s a Phoenix area code. I recognize it because that’s where I’m from. Or at least, where we’ve lived the last four years since my brother, Christian, has attended Arizona State University.

“Yep, you got me. Who is this?”

My attention is only half on the conversation as I watch Natalia begin to unbutton her blouse, her fingers teasingly playing with each pearl button, giving me a peep show with each flick of her wrist. Her eyes rake over my chest and down my torso as she bites her bottom lip. My dick perks back up in my pants at the offer of a second round. Preferably this time I’ll get inside the busty little Italian minx.

I raise my eyebrows to show my appreciation as she opens her shirt to display a lacy black bra, her luscious tits spilling over the top of the cups. I reach a hand out to squeeze the firm flesh in front of me and she gives a sexy moan.

“…name is Cade Griffin…”

Huh? This gets my attention and I quickly drop my hand, as if I’ve been caught in the act. As if he’s just opened the door to the stall and found me fondling this woman.

I search my brain for a recollection. The name Cade Griffin sounds familiar, but I’m still stuck in a post-orgasm daze. Could it be the same Cade that played with Christian at ASU? My attention snaps from the fabulous rack in front of me and back to the phone conversation.

Shifting my body, I move away from Natalia, turning my shoulder toward her and staring off toward the wall.

“Oh, right. Cade. Howya doing, man?”

“I’m good, bruh. Really good. But I have a favor to ask of you.”

My interest is now at an all-time high, as I’m more than a little curious as to why Cade Griffin, All-American basketball player is calling me and what favor he could possibly need.

I hold a finger up to Natalia, requesting a moment in the universal language everyone knows. She gives me a sexy little pout with her lips and a breathy huff. God, I must be crazy to stop the action she’s willing to give.

The line goes a little scratchy, probably because I’m still standing in a little concrete box of a bathroom. I open the door to the stall and step out into the small room that smells distinctly of urine and bleach. Not a very romantic place to sex up a hot woman.

“Un momento,” I offer apologetically to Natalia, pointing toward the hallway door as she sighs at my departure. Opening the bathroom door, the sound of the bar sweeps over me as I step outside and head toward the exit.

I must be insane to walk away from such a willing and sexy woman, but this phone call from Cade could be something important. Maybe it’s about my brother. What if something happened to him? Panic pushes through my veins as I finally get out to a small covered patio.

“Okay, I’m back. Sorry, I couldn’t hear you very well. I’m in a bar in Bologna.”

“Ah, sorry man. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll make this quick. Christian mentioned that you live in Florence and because you’re on the road quite a bit, your place is empty a lot of the time. So, I’m hoping you’d do me a solid…you see, my little sister, Kadence, is in Florence right now. On her last dollar with nowhere to go and no one she knows there. She doesn’t normally ask for my help, so I know she’s in a tight spot. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind letting her crash on your couch for a few nights until she can work out a plan to get back home.”

Since most of the blood was down in my cock the last twenty minutes, my brain makes a valiant effort to catch up to what Cade is talking about. The words favor, little sister and couch all mingle into one jumbled sentence.

“I’m sorry. What?”

I know I can be dense at times, but this request is so out of the blue, as if he’s speaking in another foreign language that I don’t understand, that I need him to repeat it.

His laugh is low and earnest. “Yeah, I know it’s a bit out there. Kadence, my sister, needs a place to stay. I’d be forever in your debt if you could help her out. All I ask is that you meet her and if you find out it won’t work to have her crashing with you, maybe you could just give her some other options so she can find a place to stay for a few days. Anything would be appreciated,” he rambles, taking a deep breath before he continues.

“Listen, I’ll be honest with you. My sister…well, she can be a handful. She’s a free spirit and is very impulsive and wild, if you know what I mean. That’s what sent her traipsing off on this crazy trip to Europe in the first place. She doesn’t think before she acts. But I swear, she’ll only be there for a few days, a week, tops. She promised to be on her best behavior and will stay out of your hair. I just want her to be safe. She’s my little sister and I don’t want her to get into any more trouble.”

What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? The desperation in his voice clogs the phone line, like sludge or mud seeping across the Atlantic.

I’ve met Cade a few times. I know that Christian regards him with the utmost respect and says he’s a decent guy. Telling him no is not an option. There’s no doubt that Cade would do the same thing if the tables were turned and if it was my brother asking him for help. So, there’s only one thing I can say.

“Absolutely, bro. No problem at all. I’m happy to help your little sister. There is one small thing, though.”

There’s a tense pause before he speaks again and I can hear the worry in his response. “What’s that?”

My eyes move around the cobblestone street outside the back door of the tavern. The team is still here tonight and we don’t return to Florence until tomorrow morning.

“I’m here in Bologna tonight and the team won’t be heading back to Florence until tomorrow morning. Will your sister be okay until then? Otherwise, I can call my landlady to see if she can let her in.”

I can hear Cade’s relief as he exhales into the phone. “Ah, shit. I thought it was something worse,” he laughs good-naturedly. “Kady’s got a place for tonight. And I’m wiring her some money to get her by for at least a week until she can get her ID and passport situation taken care of. She won’t be mooching off you, bro. I swear.”

“Dude, I’m not worried about that at all.”

“Great, man. So where can I tell her she can meet up with you tomorrow? What time works best for you?”

I recommend a place just across the piazza from my flat, which is in the Mercato Centrale and the Basilica of San Lorenzo. Everything’s in walking distance in Florence, but I’m only a few blocks from the main train station.

Cade ends the call by thanking me again for my willingness to help his sister.

“Just knowing there’s someone else in the same city that I trust gives me a tremendous amount of relief. I can’t thank you enough, Gavin.”

He gives me her cell and says he’ll call Kadence right away.
As I hang up, I realize that I forgot to ask him what she looks like or get a description of who I should look for. I have no idea how I’ll recognize her when I meet her.

All I can picture is Cade’s face. And while I’m sure he’s admired by throngs of women for his pretty boy looks, I can’t imagine a girl possessing similar masculine features. That would be weird and creepy.

God, what if she’s hideous and that’s why Cade didn’t mention it. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine as I imagine her looking like the ogre-Fiona from Shrek. Or worse, the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Or even the witch from Snow White.

Laughing to myself over my lame animated references, I decide to head back to the hotel for the night instead of going back inside to locate Natalia. Maybe that’s a prick move, and I should feel bad for leaving and not returning the favor, but she knew the score when she took me into the bathroom to blow me.

Shaking off my guilty conscience, my mind begins to wander as I consider the changes I might have to make over the next week while having a female house guest. I’ve never had a female roommate before. In fact, I’ve never even brought a girl into my flat. That’s been intentional. Once a chick knows where you live, there are expectations. And my sole focus is on my game and future, not on getting involved with anyone.

My imagination gets the best of me as I picture pink towels, hair products and tampons strewn across my bathroom counter.

Shit, I didn’t think this through very well.

But then I’m struck with another thought.

What if she’s fucking hot? What if she likes to walk around the flat in skimpy lingerie? Tiny boy shorts and tank tops? Those are my kryptonite.

I adjust my stiffening length in my shorts as I make my way down the quiet street toward my hotel. 

This favor for Cade just got really complicated in my over-active imagination. If she does turn out to be any of these things, how will I be able to keep my hands off her out of respect for Cade? He is adamant about keeping his sister safe – probably away from guys who think like me. He even said he trusts me. Which means his little sister is strictly off limits while she’s here.

​As I walk by a small Duomo at the corner of the piazza, I make the sign of the cross and say a little prayer that Kadence Griffin will turn out to be a homely, nun-like prude. That way, I’ll have no problem keeping my word and keeping my hands off her.

Let’s hope my prayers are answered.

I'm working hard at getting everything in order to release my upcoming book, Sweet Disaster, Book 4 in The Sweetest Thing series. The book should be coming out in mid-July.
This book features Kady Griffin (for those of you who have read the previous books, Kady is Cade's younger sister and Kylah's twin), whose misadventures in Europe lead her to meeting a strapping and hot basketball player, Gavin Lancaster.
Neither Kady nor Gavin are looking for anything serious. But sometimes, love finds you when and where you're least expecting it.
​
​Stay tuned for more info by signing up for my Sweet Disaster Launch emails here: http://eepurl.com/cMk6TT

Excerpt:
Kady:
My life is a complete and utter disaster. 
One major screw up after another. 
In other words - I’m trouble.
I attempted college, but made a mess of that scene, too. Chalk it up to yet another disappointment in my parents’ ever-growing list of Kady failures. 
Deciding I needed an escape from reality, my best friend and I flew off to Europe, where we were going to have the time of our lives.
The only problem with that plan is that I ran out of money after two weeks, and now I’m stuck in Florence, Italy with no means of getting home. 
See? Trouble finds me wherever I go. 
Gavin:
All I ever wanted to do was play basketball. 
It’s all I’m good at. 
I bypassed college and went straight to the pros. I’ve been playing overseas in Italy for six months, gaining fame, fans and having fun.
There’s only one problem. I miss home. I’m not too big to admit I’m homesick for my family and friends.
But that all changed when I heard from Cade Griffin, a former college hoops star. He called and asked me to rescue his sister, Kadence, who’s stranded and alone here in Florence. 
Seems easy enough, right?
Except for the fact that Kady Griffin is gorgeous, completely off-limits and a sweet disaster waiting to happen all over my life.

©Sierra Hill

I received an email this week from InD’Tale Magazine, a publication that promotes and features indie authors. They indicated that my book, Physical Distraction, was a NOMINEE in this year’s RONE Book Awards which honors the very best books in the Indie and Small publishing industry. I nearly choked on my coffee when I read the email!
It was such a surprise and shock because it was just over a year ago, April 2016, when I published Physical Distraction, the third book in The Physical series. At the suggestion of a friend, I submitted the book to be reviewed by a staff reviewer at InD’Tale. Nearly six months had passed when I finally received confirmation that the book received a 4.5 Star review. I was ecstatic that they gave it such high praise!

“Sierra Hill does an amazing job with taking the holiday time and turning it into a molten-hot romance that gives hope to knowing when it is the one, all rules go out the window. The steam factor in this story makes it one hot, sexy read!”
​
Fast forward seven months, and imagine my surprise when I received notification that because of that review, I’ve been nominated for the 2017 RONE Awards! However, the nomination is just one step in the process.
In order for the book to move forward to the final rounds, it must be VOTED ON by the public. That’s where YOU come in!
To become a finalist, I need your VOTE. Only those books with the highest number of votes will progress to the finals. If I make the final list, my book will be read and judged by a group of industry professionals.
So here’s what I need from you:

1. To vote, you must register at www.indtale.com. It’s free to do so, just register/confirm you email.
2. The voting for my category (Cops, Jocks and Cowboys) is open for ONE week, between May 15th-21st
3. SHARE this and spread the word! I can only do this with your help and support.

Thank you so much for helping me out. Getting to the next step will take a village! If you’d like to read the review that was posted, it can be found here:
http://www.indtale.com/reviews/contemporary/physical-distraction-physical-series-3
 
Purchase Physical Distraction here:
Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/zqalwmc
B&N: http://tinyurl.com/jtv824x
Apple: http://tinyurl.com/kdc9nzg

​“Full of heart, heat, laughs, friendship, second chances, and love. This author has created an amazing series that is captivating start to finish and just feels like coming home.” – 5 Star review, Renee Entress’s Blog

​Have you read Sweet Summer Love, yet? It's Book 3 in The Sweetest Thing series and features Carver Edwards and his first love, Logan Shaw. I have to say, it's definitely my most emotional book that I've written thus far in my career. As a writer, that's the most difficult things to do is tapping into the emotions of the character, especially when I haven't necessarily experienced what they go through.
​
When I was writing it, however, I did use my experiences living in the Pacific Northwest and hopefully painted a vibrant picture of the beauty and natural environment that Carver and Logan lived in while they were at camp as teens, as well as now in early adulthood. I also worked with a graphic designer/video producer to capture those visuals in this video book trailer for Sweet Summer Love. Please take a look. I'd love to hear what you think about it. If you've read the book, does it do it justice? If you've yet to read it, does it pique your interest? Would love to hear your thoughts! Send me an email or PM on any of my social media sites.

Copyright Sierra Hill 2017

My parents are going to kill me.

   Not literally. Well, maybe…God, I hope not.

My dad is a well-known criminal lawyer, so if they do murder me, they’d probably get off scot-free.  I wouldn’t blame them if they did – at the very least, they are going to punish me in the worst way possible -  because this is the worst mistake I’ve ever made in all my nineteen years of life. Believe me when I say, I’ve fucked up a lot.

As the ‘middle’ child, it’s my lot in life. You can’t change your personality traits, right? I am who I am, and all that shit. Plus, I’m stuck between two scientific geniuses. Who can compete with that? My older brother, Cade, just graduated with a degree in biomechanical engineering. He’s brilliant, but has always downplayed it with his good-looks and his basketball-God-like status.

And my twin sister – younger than me by a mere seven minutes – is studying to become a scientist. She attended school this past year in California, but announced to my parents a week ago that she would be transferring to Cade’s alma mater, ASU, in the fall. And she’s moving in with her boyfriend, Van. 

The good news is that with her announcement, along with my brother’s proposal to his girlfriend, Ainsley – it might take a little out of the sting of my decision to trek across Europe with my friend, Isadora, or Izzy as she prefers to be called.

But I have royally fucked up this time. Not only did I drop out of college – and don’t plan on going back next semester – but I left for Europe without my parents’ permission and I’m now stranded in Italy of all places without any means of getting back.

   I told you it was a colossal fuck-up.

Going home after school ended wasn’t even an option. I couldn’t possibly go home with my tail between legs. I’d have to explain how I flunked out of my first year of college, I don’t have a plan to go back, I don’t have a job, really don’t have any career aspirations at this point, and have decided to spend the next three months in Europe.

So, I just went ahead and skipped town without telling anyone. Booked a flight to Amsterdam with Izzy, and have spent the last two weeks having the time of my life.

​   I’ve been drunk for thirteen days straight.

Izzy is my friend from school. We’re two peas in a pod – except she plans on returning to UC Boulder in August. It was during a late-spring blizzard when we hatched our plan while drunk on Italian red wine. She has distant relatives in both Florence and Greece, so we mapped out our journey of a lifetime. We’d arrive in Amsterdam, take a train to Switzerland, and then finally venture down to Florence, Italy.

    Where I happen to be stuck right now. 

I'll be attending the Writers on the River author event and book signing in East Peoria, IL, on Saturday July 9th. Tickets can be purchased at http://writersontheriver.weebly.com/ and are currently 1/2 off for only a $5 entry fee, now through June 30th.