Against the Wall by Andie Devaux

When she sees red and blue lights flashing in her rearview mirror, Michelle Thomas fears her day is ruined. Sexy Officer Drake lets her go with a warning, but when she runs into him at a bar later that day, it feels a little like fate.

Michelle isn’t interested in fate. She has two weeks until she starts grad school so she’s looking for one thing: fun. A no-holds-barred good time. What she doesn’t want is a relationship–that’s a distraction she can’t afford.

Officer David Drake has never met a woman as sexually adventurous as he is, and when he senses a kindred spirit in Michelle, he isn’t willing to let her go easily. Especially when she proves to be feisty and smart. But will she decide the officer is worth risking her future plans?

Against the Wall is a new adult erotic romance novelette. It is not intended for young readers due to mature content. Adults only.

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About the author:

Andie writes sexy erotic romance and erotica stories that push boundaries. When she’s not writing (or reading!), she can usually be found daydreaming or attempting a new recipe. She thinks that life should require happily ever afters. And since she doesn’t make the rules of life, she instead applies this philosophy to the worlds she can control–the ones in her books.

What inspired you to write your book?

Cops are sexy. I’ve always wanted to write one as a hero. This series gave me the chance to not only write a super hot cop, but a feisty heroine who not only stands up to him, but is his match in every way.

Here is a short sample from the book:

Great. Just flipping wonderful. Could her night get any better?
Michelle Thomas eyed the flashing red and blue lights in her rearview mirror and carefully pulled off to the side of the road. It took all the self-control she could muster and a few deep breaths not to smack the steering wheel to vent some frustration while the motorcycle cop took his sweet time approaching the window of her little Honda. With her luck, she’d hit the horn and he’d take her to jail for being a jerk.
Tonight just sucked. Not only had her ex-boyfriend Gavin shown up at her apartment—something she was on the edge of getting a restraining order to prevent in the future—but Kristy had called and changed their night out from a club near her house to some dive bar across town. At least, she assumed it was a dive bar. What other kind of bar could it be with a name like Tom’s Tavern?
Now, not only had Gavin once again creeped her out, she couldn’t even properly drown her sorrows. She’d have to take an expensive cab home if she did. Although the price of a cab might be worth it after her week from hell.
The cop tapping on her window wasn’t likely to give a crap about any of that. And she wouldn’t to grovel to avoid a ticket—that would just add insult to injury at this point. Begging out of a ticket had never worked for her anyway.
“Can I help you?” she said in a sickly sweet fake voice.
“License, registration and proof of insurance, please,” he said in a deep baritone, words so practiced he sounded bored. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”
Yeah, right. Like she was going to offer up ideas and get herself who-knew-how-many tickets. “You had nothing better to do?”
“I clocked you at seventeen miles per hour over the speed limit.”
“Of course you did.”
“Excuse me?” He leaned toward her window and pushed down his sunglasses. She caught a glimpse of a strong jaw and blue eyes against a dark head of hair that was mussed from his motorcycle helmet.
“I said, of course you did. Because that’s just how shitty my day is going.” She knew she shouldn’t mouth off, but she just couldn’t seem to stop the flow of words. Something inside of her had hit a boiling point. “Figures I’d get pulled over, too.”
Was it her imagination or did his mouth twitch just a bit at her comment?
“Well, your day is going to get even worse if you don’t find your license, registration and proof of insurance.”
She cursed under her breath and fished through her glove compartment. Three expired proofs of insurance later, she found the correct one. But her registration proved elusive. She handed him what she had and then peeked out the window.
“I have my registration from”—she scanned the date—”two years ago.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the car while I check these.”
Just her luck. Could the night get any worse?
She exited the vehicle and then watched the police officer walk back to his motorcycle. The flashing lights to warn oncoming traffic of the potential hazard did nothing to distract her from the tight ass of the man walking away from her, nor from the powerful width of his shoulders. He was tall—over six feet. And built. The officer knew his way around a gym.
She resisted the urge to lean back against her car while she waited for him to check her information. Dirt coated its surface from the last rainstorm. Washing it this week just hadn’t seemed important. She’d spent the week avoiding Gavin and doing what she could to enjoy her last summer of freedom.
Two weeks until she started graduate school. Until then, her only responsibilities were entertaining herself and showing up somewhat on time for her part-time barista job that was less than a hop, skip and a jump from her new apartment just off campus. Most of the summer had disappeared far too quickly, sucked away by Gavin and his dramatics.
What remained would be her one taste of real freedom from the constant stress of classes since she’d started college. Whoever thought you could graduate in four years without summer classes hadn’t double majored. But now she was done—free. For the first time in her twenty-three years. No parents to see on a daily basis. No classes to attend. No boyfriend to worry over or spend time with.
“Are you aware that your copy of the registration is expired?” His gravelly tone sounded neither sympathetic nor annoyed. He could have been talking about the weather, for crying out loud. She was sick of this. This was her two weeks. Her time. This guy wasn’t taking any more of it, no matter how well his uniform fit and how freaking stunning his features were behind his dark Aviator sunglasses.
“No shit, Sherlock,” she said. His jaw ticked, and her bravery faltered. “Look at my plates. There’s a sticker there.”
“Those can be stolen.”
“Doesn’t your system tell you that my plates are fine?” she bit out, taking a step toward him. She was so sick of bullies. This man wasn’t bullying her, too. Cop or no.
“Yes.” Was it just her imagination or did a glimmer of amusement touch his lips?
Her jaw dropped and she poked at his chest without thinking. “Then why are you hassling me?”
“Have had anything to drink or taken any drugs today, Miss Thomas?”
“What? Of all the stupid—”
“Turn around and put your hands on the car.”
“Bite me.” Half her mind screaming she was being an idiot, but the other refusing to bow down to this guy, she poked at his chest again. Or tried to.
He grabbed her wrist, his grip hard but not painful. She gasped in surprise and he released her. “I said turn around.”
Of all the humiliating days. What was next? She wouldn’t be surprised if a hole in the universe opened to suck her into an alternate dimension where she was still in high school on her way home, spitting her out naked in front of the class.