The Way We Touch

Series:

The Bradford Boys

Genre:

Brother's Best Friend,

Release Date: June 10, 2024

Logan Murphy should come with a warning.
He’s as hot as a Carolina Reaper on black asphalt in the middle of July.
With perfectly messy dark hair and smoldering blue eyes—and don’t even get me started on the way that black tee stretches across his toned chest…

He’s my brother’s best friend.
He’s also a football star on track to win the first wide-receiver MVP in league history.
Good thing I only date golfers… or I did.
Good thing he’s only visiting for a month, because the more I see he’s not a player, the harder it is to block him from running away with my heart.

I’ve always loved football, but after eight years pro, everything about it leaves me cold.
So when I agree to head south with my best friend, the last thing I expect is to have my face melted off by his pepper-loving little sister.
Dylan Bradford was supposed to be a kid, not a feisty pinup who looks at me like she’s never seen a man before.
She’s all curves and cutoffs, bare feet dancing in the warm summer night,
But I’m only in town a month, and she doesn’t date football players.

Then late-night talks turn to sharing past hurts and future dreams, and shy looks turn to confident kisses.
The heat between us can’t be denied.
It’s spicy and sweet, and it melts us together.
Until the way we touch becomes more than friendly—it’s forever.

(THE WAY WE TOUCH is a small-town, brother’s best friend, sports romance with hilarious “accidents,” and a dirty-talking hero. No cheating. No cliffhanger. No third-act breakup.)

She nods, looking up at me brightly. “It’s why I only date golfers.”

“What?” The word jumps from my mouth, a cross between a laugh and a protest.

Her pretty eyes widen, and a small dimple appears at the side of her mouth as she fights a smile. “Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Murphy?”

You bet your ass I have a problem with it, but I’m not about to say it out loud.

“Not at all, Miss Bradford. Date who you want. I just can’t imagine somebody like you settling down with a golfer.”

“What’s wrong with golf? It’s a sport that requires skill and patience, and it involves zero physical contact.” She counts on her fingers. “I don’t know a single golfer who’s sustained a concussion playing the sport.”

“If you call that a sport,” I quip.

“How many golfers are at risk of getting CTE?”

Holding up my hands, I straighten. “You got me. I’m just saying, from what I’ve observed, you’re not shy about physical contact.”

And it’s sexy as f–k.

“I’m not getting hit in the head, and I’m not watching them get hit in the head either.”

My brow furrows. “You don’t watch the games?”

She shakes her head no. “It’s too hard after what happened to our dad and knowing the risks. I wish they’d all retire, but you can’t tell my brothers what to do.”

I’m not sure how I feel about this new information. I do know how I feel about it. I don’t like it one bit.

Gentling my tone, I take a step closer. “Life is uncontrollable, Dylan. I could walk out the door tomorrow and get hit by a car.”

“Don’t say that,” she whispers, lifting her hands as if she’ll say a prayer to ward it away.

“My point is, you’ve got to do what you love, and we love the game.”

“Trust me. I know.”

“You can’t control who you love or what happens. Saying you only date golfers is crazy.”

“Maybe, but if I don’t date football players, I’m not at risk of falling in love with one.”

Our eyes meet, and the air grows quiet and still. My stomach tightens, and somehow I’ve gotten close enough to touch her again.

She’s standing in front of me in that short skirt and tight shirt, and her soft breasts rise quickly with her breath.

It’s been a while since I’ve been around a woman so open and vibrant and full of life. Someone who likes to play and dance and experiment with hot peppers. A woman who has no business settling down with a man who plays golf…