Some mistakes are worth repeating… Tasha Riordan's one night with Luc Bradshaw was the best of her life. The following two—when he left her to be thrown into a Bahamian jail on bogus charges—were her worst. Now, seven years later, the undercover DEA agent is back. Invading her town. Her restaurant. Her fantasies. She can't trust a man who lied to her. Yet neither can she trust herself—not when their chemistry burns even hotter than before. Learning he has two half brothers shocks Luc. Discovering they live in the same town as Tasha—that's a different kind of thrill. Their mutual lust is still off the charts, but he can't get her to listen to his side of what happened on that long-ago night. Good thing he's got powers of persuasion that go deeper than words. Because nothing has ever felt this right…. "This warm summer contemporary melts hearts with the simultaneous blossoming of familial and romantic love." -Publishers Weekly on That Thing Called Love "Guaranteed snap, sizzle and sass!" --New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips "A smart, arousing, spirited escapade that is graced with a gentle mystery, a vulnerable, resilient heroine, and a worthy, wounded hero and served up with empathy and a humorous flair." -Library Journal on Burning Up "A sexy feel-good contemporary romance...a winner." --Publishers Weekly on Bending the Rules Susan Andersen is a bestselling author and proud mama of a grown son. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband of over forty-five years and her cats Boo and Mojo. To be added to Susan’s email list to hear about upcoming releases, please visit her website at www.susanandersen.com and enter your email address on the contact page. Or become a member of her Facebook fan page at http://www.facebook.com/SusanAndersenFanPage. "Crap," Tasha whispered as she pulled up behind the other cars in Max's driveway. She was beyond late. And this comes as a big surprise to you? her inner smart-ass demanded. Well, no. But not seeing the men hanging out on the porch, grilling up a storm as usual, and knowing they likely weren't out back, either, since it had been raining off and on all day, just drove the truth of her tardiness home. Because that could mean only one thing, couldn't it? Everyone was either in the midst of dinner or—an even worse possibility—were already cleaning up. She climbed out of the car and went around to the trunk to haul out her contributions to Harper's mom's going-away party. Dammit, not only had she not meant to be so late, she'd fully intended to get here early to help with the preparations. She certainly hadn't counted on the new man she'd hired for her pizzeria turning out to be a lush. A freaking on-the-job lush. You had to appreciate the irony here. She'd thought she had it all figured out. With the drop in business now that Labor Day was behind them and most of the tourists gone, her big plan had been to hire another cook to work part-time. She really could have used help with the summer rush this year, yet with it over, they were spared the crazy thrown-in-the-deepend, sinkor-swim pressure. Now the new hire could take his time getting up to speed, and she'd add to his hours as he progressed. Stress-free had been her aim, the end goal to be sitting pretty by the time next summer's rush began. She snorted. In theory it was such a lovely, proactive idea and one that should eventually provide her some honest-to-God days off. And who knew, maybe it'd even give her a shot at an actual life. That was certainly something she'd had damn little of this summer. Once she got accustomed to the luxury of occasional free days, she might go totally hog wild and build her way up to treating herself to an actual vacation. Okay, so the mere idea made her heart pound with anxiety and left a coppery taste in her mouth. But wasn't it way past time she got over that? Not that it mattered now. At this point the question was purely rhetorical. Her new cook, who had interviewed brilliantly, had in all likelihood already been drunk when he'd shown up for work. And if he hadn't arrived with a good head start down Knee-walking Avenue, he'd definitely been fall-on-his-face hammered by the time she'd thrown his sorry ass out of Bella T's. On her own house wine, no less, which just added an abundance of salt to the wound. But the final straw, what truly and royally most pissed her off, was the way the bastard had tried to blame the wine theft on Jeremy, the Cedar Village boy who'd started bussing for her just the other week. The Village was a group home outside of town that helped troubled boys get their lives together, which was precisely what Jeremy was doing. The last thing he needed was for some ass to come along and falsely accuse him of larceny. She climbed the porch steps but stopped before she reached the door. Setting down her goodies, she did her best to brush lint off her shorts, then reached into her purse for her lipstick. One of the first thi