Kissing Books

QUIRKY | FEEL-GOOD | STEAMY SMALL TOWN | ROM COM

Piss off the hot farmer ✔️

Find out I'll be living in a funeral home ✔️

Meet my pet pig Petunia ✔️

Day one in town proved one thing. . . I'm screwed.

Welcome to Mudville, home of KISSING BOOKS, a standalone steamy small town, opposites attract, fish out of water romantic comedy with lots of kissing (and other things), a cocky farmer, a sassy misplaced heroine with too many animals, some crazy locals, a decades' old mystery and a very happy ending for them all!

Illustrated Cover Paperback on Amazon ASIN:B07XB3NPYJ

Hot Guy Cover on Amazon ASIN:1700130781

Hot Guy Cover Paperback on Barnes & Noble

Illustrated Cover Paperback on Barnes & Noble

Kissing Books Hot Guy Cover Paperback

KISSING BOOKS was the #1 Bestseller in Romance on both Apple Books and Rakuten Kobo, and #1 in Romantic Comedy and #15 in Paid Kindle Books on Amazon.

Don't miss any of the

SMALLTOWN SECRETS SERIES

Published: October 22, 2019
Genres:

Contemporary Romance, Romantic Comedy, Smalltown Romance

Tags:

Cowboys, Enemies to Lovers, Fish Out of Water, grumpy hero, hot farmer, Opposites Attract, Romance Series about Brothers, RomCom, Series Starter First in Series, Smalltown Romance, Spicy Romance

Excerpt:

KISSING BOOKS© by Cat Johnson

“You know, she doesn’t deserve to have you staying there housesitting for free. Agnes should pay you for this. It’s very inconvenient.”

At this point, I might be willing to pay Agnes to let me stay there, just to be able to put some distance between my ranting mother and myself.

It was going to be a long drive home if she was going to alternate between her trademark pinch-faced silent treatment and bursts of complaints about my decision.

“Oh. Look. I want to stop at this farm stand for some corn.”

Hallelujah. Saved by a giant ear of corn. Or at least a giant corn-shaped wooden sign and an arrow pointing to the Morgan Farm Market.

>There was nothing my mother liked better than stopping to buy stuff along the side of the road.

As she pulled in and parked on the dirt, I spied something very interesting in the cornfield. And it wasn’t corn.

The muscled-back glistening with a light sheen of sweat in the sun had to belong to none other than Farmer Morgan himself, or one of his farmhands.

Holy hell, they sure grew them nice upstate. Big. Shirtless. Just like I liked them.

At home, for me to see a guy who looked like this I was usually scrolling through stock photo sites online looking for male models for book covers or ad graphics.

But here was one in living color, live and in person.

The scenario couldn’t have been more perfect as his back muscles worked when he reached out and snapped off the ears of corn from the stalks. Then he twisted at that narrow waist to toss them into the bushel basket on the ground by his feet.

I said another silent thank you to the big guy above for the farm stand that provided so much bounty. A distraction for Mom and for me.

My mother was nuts with all her bitching about this town. By all indications my stay in Mudville wasn’t going to be so bad. The scenery was certainly nice.

“Harper! Are you coming in?” Mom yelled to me from the stand a good twenty feet away when she realized I had yet to get out of the car where I’d been so entranced by the view.

I nodded to her through the glass and finally got my head on straight enough to get myself out of my seatbelt.

By the time I entered the building, I wished I hadn’t.

“That’s a little pricy for a dozen ears,” Mom said.

The teenager behind the counter shrugged. This was probably a part time summer job for her. One that would end in a couple of weeks when school started up again. She didn’t set the prices of the corn, but Mom didn’t seem to care about that fact.

“When was it picked exactly?” Mom asked, looking over the offering critically.

“I don’t know,” the girl answered. “It was there when I got here.”

That answer was met with a humph.

I definitely did not want her in a bad mood over the corn for the whole drive home. I had enough to deal with after the Great Aunt Agnes debacle. You know, with Agnes not being dead and Mom not inheriting the house I’d agreed to housesit for free, and all.

I stepped up to the counter. “Mom, I’m sure it’s fine.”

She shook her head. “You know corn is only good the day it’s picked.”

“Mom, please. Just buy the corn and let’s go. We have a long drive.”

“But how do I know it’s fresh if she doesn’t know—”

“It’s fresh.” The deep male voice, heavy with attitude, cut straight through me. Its low growly timbre seemed to settle in and take residence somewhere in the vicinity of my long neglected lady parts.

I turned at the voice behind us and there he was—my fantasy farmer. Only now I had a front view to go with the back view I’d lusted over.

The glistening chest. The washboard abs, partially hidden by the bushel basket overflowing with corn. The sun-gilded hair set off by the green and gold-flecked hazel eyes.

He was perfection. Well, except for his expression of obvious annoyance.

Not that I could blame him. Mom annoyed me plenty, but she was, after all, a customer and you know what they say. The customer is always right. Maybe that didn’t apply to farmers. I’d never known any personally to ask.

“I picked that batch this morning,” my bucolic god continued.

“Can I have those instead?” Mom eyed the bushel in his hands.

Meanwhile, my own gaze kept straying to the dusting of light hair surrounding his nipples. Damn, I’d love to take a little nibble on one of those.

Jeez. Where the hell had that thought come from? I needed to get a hold of myself.

“Sure. Have at it.” He set down the basket heavily on the counter by his lone young employee.

“I’m sorry about her,” I said, cringing for effect.

“I’m used to you city people,” he grumbled.

I frowned, taking insult at his tone even if what he’d said wasn’t a criticism. Though it was inaccurate. “I’m not from the city.”

He shrugged, apparently not caring about the suburbanite chip on my shoulder.

“I still think you’d sell a lot more if you lowered the price, but fine I’ll take these dozen. Do you have a bag?” Mom asked.

As the girl bagged my mother’s carefully chosen corn, the hottie with the attitude hoisted the basket off the counter by the cash register.

He carried it to the table where the other ears were displayed and started rearranging them. Bringing that morning’s ears to the front. Clearing space in the back for the ears he’d just picked, I assumed.

I didn’t really care what he was doing or why since his task gave me a nice view of his back muscles again. I could enjoy them without being noticed, because I definitely did not want this guy thinking I thought he was attractive. Particularly since he already hated me on sight for my sin of not being from around here.

At least that was my guess after his judgmental sounding assumption that I was a city person. As if that would have been so bad?

So what if I had been from Manhattan? Or even from a smaller city, like New Rochelle or Yonkers. The business people of Mudville could not possibly be so busy they could afford to alienate what few visitors happened to stumble off the highway and into this tiny town.

“Ready?”

“Huh?” I turned at the sound of Mom’s voice.

“I’m done. We can go.” Her purse back on her arm, the bag of her supposedly overpriced corn held tight against her chest, she did indeed look ready to leave.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t notice you were done.” Because I’d been too occupied elsewhere.

The hunky corn handler glanced back. “Thanks for stopping. Enjoy your corn.”

The hot bastard was taunting me. Being so super nice that his thanks and wish for our future culinary enjoyment sounded as fake as I was sure they were.

He was hot, but he was starting to piss me off.

“Oh, I’m sure we will. In fact, I’ll be back this weekend for more.”

His brows rose. “On vacation around here ’til then?” he asked.

“No. I’m going to be living here starting Saturday.”

Ha! That’ll show him.

I dropped that bomb and spun, stalking to the car before he could comment. But I didn’t miss the surprise on his face.

Good! I enjoyed that I’d thrown Mr. Confident Corn Peddler into a tizzy.

To complete my dramatic exit, I reached for the handle of the car door and yanked . . . and nearly ripped off one of my fingernails.

“Mom. When and why did you lock the car?” I grit between my teeth.

“I clicked the locks after you finally got out. I didn’t want it to be stolen,” she said, wandering over oh so slowly as she searched for the keys in her big purse while struggling to hold the overflowing brown paper bag of corn.

So much for my smooth exit.

COLLAPSE

Reviews:Carmen on Amazon wrote:

5 STARS OBSESSED
Wow. I've never even heard of Cat Johnson and now I feel like a moron. This was absolutely amazing!! It had me cracking up and there was barely a minute I wasn't grinning my dagum head off. Stone and Harper were wonderful. Insane chemistry and hilarious banter. I fell in love with the town of Mudville and I need more now.

Bianca on BJ's Book Blog wrote:

Such an adorable Small-Town-Rom-Com! I just loved reading this!

Full of hilarious moments and sexy moments and exciting mystery moments and author and animal moments.

I just adored Harper and Stone!

KISSING BOOKS was an adorable + funny + sweet small town love story! Run to your nearest amazon for your own Stone - he'll be sold out in no time - and this one is MINE!

Rachel on Goodreads wrote:

5 STARS
This, I believe, is the first time I've read Cat Johnson. It will not be the last.

This book is stunningly realistic with characters that, although larger than life, have enough impact in the interactions that you find yourself laughing, crying and holding your breath as the story unfolds...

Absolutely brilliant...

A five star review, only because I can't give a higher one.

Merry Jenks-Emmanuel on Goodreads wrote: