Dirty Neighbor (The Dirty Suburbs)

Dirty Neighbor

(The Dirty Suburbs Series -
Book 1)

Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Dirty Neighbor (The Dirty Suburbs Series - Book 1)

Copyright © 2016 Cassie-Ann L. Miller

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents appearing therein are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status of the various products referenced in this work.

Stories by

Cassie-Ann L. Miller

The Esquire Girls Series

Amber’s Story

Amber Nights (Amber – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

Madison’s Story

For Madison, Always (Madison – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

Ruthie’s Story

Ruthie’s Desire (Ruthie – Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

Hailey’s story

Moments with Hailey (Hailey - Books 1, 2, 3 & 4)

Esquire HEAT Series

A Very Eager Intern

A Very Frustrated Attorney

Standalone novels

Matteo

Beast

Dirty Player (The Dirty Suburbs Series – Book 2)

Coming soon…

Faith Monroe

I’ve been catfished.

My fairytale Internet romance has quickly turned into a nightmare. Now, I’m stranded 2000 miles from home with no ID, no money and nowhere to lay my head on this hellish California night…

He was supposed to be my valiant white knight, a friend-of-a-friend sent to save me from my poor life choices. But, Maxwell Masters likes to play dirty…he wants something in return. (No, not
THAT
. Get your mind out of the gutter).

Maxwell Masters

I’m the ultimate pro football bad boy. And after a string of bar brawls, a little bad behaviour on social media and a drunken game of naked truth-or-dare on a public beach, my career is on the line. My only hope of saving my very lucrative contract is to prove to the team's management that I’m a changed man in a committed relationship and that my player moves are now reserved exclusively for the football field.

So, when the gorgeous friend-of-a-friend happens to stumble into my life, desperate vulnerable and in need of rescuing, I see the perfect opportunity. Faith Monroe will be my fake fiancée. Unless she'd rather hitchhike her fine ass all the way back to Reyfield, Illinois.

Click here to pre-order.

Dirty Neighbor

The Dirty Suburbs Series (Book 1)

Keeland Masters…
Growing up, he was the boy next door, my older brother’s best friend, the guy who asked me to the prom...and then stood me up. He just vanished into thin air.

Now that he’s back in town, he wants to come over to play. And I’m not talking hopscotch.

But he’s hurt me once, so I’m sticking to my side of the fence no matter how good he looks pushing that lawnmower in all his tanned, toned shirtless glory.

Samantha Trotten…
I should have been her first kiss. I should have been her "first time". Instead, I ended up being the first asshole to break her heart. But a lot of things were outside of my control back then.

I've been to hell and back over the past few years. She doesn't even know the half of it.

But now, I'm back in town. And though I know I should keep my distance, all I want is a do-over...And I won't quit until I get it.

"Dirty Neighbor" is book one in the "Dirty Suburbs", a series of full-length, stand-alone romantic comedies set in small town Illinois.

Table of contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Epilogue

Bonus book: Waiting, Always (The Esquire Girls Series – Madison (Book 1))

Chapter 1

I veer off of the I-90 and guide my Harley onto the off-ramp. I grin to myself as I glance up at the huge, green highway sign looming above the road.

Welcome to Reyfield, Illinois.

I
never thought I’d ever feel so damn happy to see that sign again but after all I’ve been through over the past three years, I just want something simple and familiar. I want to be in a place where I don’t feel antsy, like I’ve got to keep looking over my shoulder.

Reyfield is it. It’s almost like coming home…

Almost.

I’m well aware that the Masters’ left a lot of destruction in our wake the last time we were in this town – unpaid bills, unsaid goodbyes and at least one very broken heart.

Maybe it’s time to pay old debts, heal old wounds and make amends as best I can. Maybe it’s time for a fresh start.

It’s a chilly night. Fall is creeping its way into town. I breeze through the streets and everything feels familiar. It all gives me a little thrill in the pit of my stomach. The gothic architecture of the Presbyterian church…The washed-out “Go Tigers!” banner hanging outside of our old high school…The field where we played football…The burger joint we used to go to for lunch when the school cafeteria’s offerings resembled road kill topped with warm dog food...

I take a left off of Clifford Boulevard and pull onto Hyatt Street. The corner store is right where I left it. I cut my engine in the parking lot and stroll through the front door. I give a quick nod to the middle-aged woman sitting behind the cash register and make my way down the narrow, brightly-lit aisles.

Man, it feels good to just walk down the aisles of a freakin’ convenience store. When you’ve been locked away for as long as I have, you learn to appreciate the simple things.

I stand in front of the chip display for a moment, trying to decide between vinegar and barbecue. “Fuck it…” I’m having both. And how about a bag of jalapeño-cheddar, too? I’m making up for lost time, after all.

I grab a case of beer — the cheap kind that we used to buy with our fake IDs when we were teenagers. I’m feeling awfully nostalgic tonight. Then, I grab more chocolate-covered pretzel sticks than any self-respecting 27-year-old man ever should.

When I get to the condom aisle, I pick up eight three-packs of XL Magnums.

Yes, that might seem overly ambitious but I haven't had sex in
three freakin’ years
and whoever I take home with me tonight is in for a hell of a good time. The ladies don’t call me Master Kee for nothing.
My main priority tonight is to drain the tank into the first acceptable-looking broad that comes my way and to be honest, ‘acceptable-looking’ is pretty much open for interpretation at this point.

Because I’m horny enough to fuck my way through the Reyfield phonebook.

I drop my goodies onto the counter and the cashier eyes me with an arched brow and a subtle grin. “Exciting night planned?” she asks, tipping her chin towards the condoms. The innuendo in her voice is undeniable.

I give her a second glance.
Is
she
Ms. Acceptable for tonight?

Nah, she’s probably older than my mother and she smells like she’s been marinating in cigarette smoke and cheap perfume all day. My definition of “acceptable” may be loose, but not
that
loose.

I nod politely as I glimpse at the number glowing on the screen of the cash register and pull a $100 bill out of my wallet. She drags her long fingernails along my palm as she deposits the change into my hand.

Did my cock just twitch?

Down, buddy. Down.

“Have a good night, Big Boy,” she purrs as I give her a quick salute and duck out the door.

I store my goodies in my backpack and jump onto my bike. When I rev it, the poor thing lets out a choked straining sound. I’ll look into it first thing in the morning, but for now, I’m on mission to get laid.

ASAP.