IT'S TOO BIG
Sheila Brostek is slowly taking steps toward building a new life after the death of her domineering grandmother. First is turning the house she’s come to view over the years as a prison into a real home. She sets up an appointment with a local contractor to obtain an estimate for the changes. She’s shocked by her reaction to the guy at her front door—her every erotic fantasy come to life.
Easton Hales is immediately attracted by the homely Sheila Brostek and the passion flickering in the depths of her amazing hazel eyes. He’s determined to give her whatever she needs to bring the intimacy she wants to her home—and her life.
"Tonya Ramagos's It's Too Big is overflowing with passion. It's Too Big is a sizzling keeper!" -- Miranda, Joyfully Reviewed
4 Stars: "Sheila went from plain-Jane to super-sexy at the drop of her clothes, and Easton’s the one who talked her out of them. This is a super short story, but a well written one. It was fun and fast paced, and I was not prepared for it to end. I know it was written as a “quickie”, but this story has some great potential with endearing characters who deserved more time. Loved it!" -- Donna, You Got To Read
4 Hearts: "This was a good short story. It had what felt like a lot of story for the size of the book, and good characters." -- Amy Hopkins, TRS Reviews
Sheila Brostek never felt more like a woman than when she opened her front door to find God’s gift to Levi’s and muscle shirts standing on her front step. Coherent thought scrambled, heat sparked, and she barely stifled the moan that danced into her throat. She shifted, as acutely aware of her beaded nipples straining against the cotton of her bra as she was of the moisture making her pussy lips slick. She had never experienced this lusty reaction at the sight of a man.
“Mrs. Brostek?” Though spoken as a question, his cool tone made the words more a formality. One Sheila didn’t hesitate to correct.
“It’s Miss. And you would be?” The man of my every wet dream come to life. No, even her dreams never conjured two hundred plus pounds of solid-looking, droolworthy flesh, toned to perfection and topped with a head of dark spiky hair, accented by a pair of drink-me whisky eyes. She had never tasted whisky in her life, but the craving for it sprang to her tongue and left her mouth feeling parched.
“Easton Hales with Hales Contracting. I believe you requested an estimate on some deck work you want to have done.” He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, drawing her attention down. Narrow waist, lean hips, a sizable bulge stretching the denim and zipper…
Sheila’s gaze slammed back into his. Surely she imagined the flicker of fire she thought she saw. Men like this didn’t find her attractive. “I, um, yes.” She blinked and gave her head a little shake. “It’s in the back.”
“Should I walk around or…?” One brow slowly rose as he left the question hanging. Arrogance mingled with impatience and a truckload of confidence in the expression.
“You’re welcome to come through the house.” As she spoke, Sheila stepped aside, giving him wide berth to enter. “I apologize. I got distracted in the kitchen and didn’t notice the time.”
“We have a two o’clock appointment. I’m a few minutes early.” He moved by her and she caught the scent of musk and spearmint, arousing and deliciously male.
“Punctuality is always appreciated.” Sheila closed the door and turned, only to wish she had retained her hold on the doorknob when her knees trembled at the sight of his firm ass clad in second-skin Levi’s.
“Except when you’re distracted in the kitchen,” he tossed over his shoulder. He took the steps in the split-level foyer up to the main floor, seemingly already knowing his way around her house. “It smells great, by the way. What’s in the oven?”
Sheila scrambled to catch up with his long-legged strides, self-consciously smoothing her apron with one hand and her mussed hair with the other. “Nothing now. What you smell is the banana bread I took out just before you arrived. It’s cooling on the counter.”
“My mother makes the best banana bread in Tennessee.” He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen at the top of the stairs and took an audible sniff. “If yours tastes anything like it smells you might give her some competition.”
Sheila’s grandmother had always been fond of saying the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his mouth. Forget that the woman hated to cook, despised men, and couldn’t shut her own mouth long enough to find any heart. Sheila wasn’t looking to get to a man’s heart—but in his pants, now that might prove a different story.his short book packs a powerful, naughty punch. I recommend it!