Teagan Hart Videos

“What’s up, Miss Mandie?” Andi asked. “Oh, I’ve just had it up to my titty tassels with these damn resolution clubs,” she muttered darkly, looking over their heads out the front door. Andi caught a glimpse of Max behind her, head down and scratching the back of his neck. A classic Max Lyons tell that he was having a hard time keeping it together when something was making him laugh. “I’m with you,” Andi said, grinning as she saw Dirk jog by the bakery door, with Esther on his heels. “I get the feeling it’s not even about the resolutions anymore. It’s just about the competition between the people heading up the clubs. They really want to be Queen or King Motivator.” Miss Mandie went still behind the counter and Andi turned to look at her. “What?” Miss Mandie was smiling. And it was a smile that would have gotten her at least an interview to be the third S.I. member if it still existed. “Well, maybe the neighborly thing to do would be to take the crown myself. You know, to limit the in-fighting between the rest of them.” “What kind of club are you running?” Max asked. “Hmmm, well, I was planning on celebrating National Bagel Day, Cheese Lover’s Day, and Chocolate Cake Day. Maybe my club will be for people who want to celebrate the lesser holidays of the year?” Andi grinned. “I’ll join that.” “Me too,” Max said. “In Hope, the island that hosts the bathtub races on the half-birthday of their inventor? And the Plummer’s Day parade? A club like that would be Hope Island. . . catnip.” Miss Mandie grinned and ran her receipt tape out. She ripped off the long piece and set it down in front of Andi with a pen. “Well, if you two sign as my first two members, I’ll get this show on the road.” She wouldn’t let them pay for their coffee and donuts. “And I’ll give a twenty-five percent discount to all members of the . . . Hope Hardly-Known Holidays Club.” “I like it,” Andi said. #missmandiethi

To celebrate the impromptu snow day we're having here in Oregon IN MARCH, here is a throwback to the OG Miss Mandie Thing from Deck the Headlines! <3 *** “Where are you going in such a hurry, young lady?” The raspy voice was one that Ella could pick out in any crowd. It belonged to Mandie Cane, or at least that was the name she went by. Everyone in town just called her Miss Mandie. Knowing it would be much worse for her if she pretended she hadn’t heard Miss Mandie, Ella took a deep breath and turned to wave at her. She was standing in front of the De-Floured Erotic Bakery, Hope’s only bakery. Miss Mandie had been a porn star in a previous life and then used her earnings to put herself through culinary school before moving to Hope on a whim and opening an erotic bakery. It took both Hope and Mandie some time to adjust to each other, but now she grudgingly made loaves of plain bread and cinnamon rolls in exchange for being able to make every bachelor and bachelorette cake on the island. And the citizens of Hope had gotten used to seeing her famous "Double D-elicious" cupcakes with fondant nipples and nipple rings, sitting on the shelf next to their old-fashioned donuts and bear claws, which Miss Mandie had renamed, “cougar claws”. “Sorry, Miss Mandie,” Ella said. “Just heading to Mom’s house.” Miss Mandie was the one person she didn’t want to piss off during her stay in Hope, however long that might be. Her stomach lurched at the thought. Miss Mandie was the keeper of all things sweet and delicious and if Ella was going to make it, she was going to need sugar. Lots of it. “Oh, that’s right,” Miss Mandie said, struggling to get a plastic light-up candy cane wedged into the ground on its plastic spike. “You’re gonna take Clarence’s job, aren’t you?” Miss Mandie started swearing under her breath as she fought with the decoration. Ella hesitated for a moment but remembering Miss Mandie’s famous temper and the crowd it al

Her mom nodded and pulled her into a hug. “Well, I knew this is where I’d find you, so I brought you some of Miss Mandie’s latest coffee concoction.” She shrugged. “It’s a blonde roast and Miss Mandie said she was going with all St. Patrick’s-inspired names this month . . . but this one is called . . .” She squinted at the side of her cup. “Pot o’ Goldie Hahn.” Cara chuckled. “Oh, because it’s a blonde roast. I get it.” https://readerlinks.com/l/3217905

“I know that look,” Miss Mandie chuckled, pushing through the swinging door that led back to her kitchen. Molly blinked at her and Miss Mandie smiled. “That’s the ‘remembering a good-looking ass’ look.” Molly quickly shook her head. “Oh, no . . . I was just trying to think about what to order.” “Well, whatever you’re thinking about ordering with that look, I say go for it. And don’t forget to compliment its caboose. That’s how you keep a good ‘order’ around.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her apron pocket, her perfect cat-eye makeup zeroed in on Molly. “Taxes getting to you? Or . . . oh.” She chuckled again. “What?” Molly asked, shifting her weight under Miss Mandie’s gaze. “I must be getting old. That look was for Mr. Toolbelt. I should have known that wasn’t a ‘business lunch’ at Ledbetter’s earlier today. I knew something was going on . . . but . . .” Molly held her breath while Miss Mandie gave her the once over again. “Nah, but it’s not that either. What is going on with you two?” Molly sagged against the counter. “He’s just my friend, doing me a favor by going with me to my stupid sister’s wedding so I won’t have to dance with a twelve-year-old or be photoshopped . . .” Miss Mandie gave her head a quick shake. “Ok, you lost me somewhere in that explanation, but I didn’t hear anything that sounded like world-ending trouble. Sounds like you just need a pick-me-up. Coffee?” Molly nodded. “And a donut, please.” https://readerlinks.com/l/3206379 #missmandiethings

It's Launch Day for Reel Love! Got space on your TBR for a hunky Irish fella (that accent, right?) and a waaay too serious ballerina falling in love against the backdrop of Hope Island turning it's maxxed out holiday cannons on St. Patrick's Day! https://readerlinks.com/l/3217905

#missmandiethings “I see you managed to escape before they caught your lucky charms in the zipper of those velvet pants.” The voice was husky and deep. He turned to see Miss Mandie again, the former porn star turned baker. She was standing outside the bakery with a cigarette, looking like she was doing the same thing he was; taking in some fresh air and escaping from the parade float asylum. “Aye,” he said, chuckling as he crossed to meet her. “It was a very near thing indeed. Luckily, I don’t think grand-marshall-Grady’s clothes are goin’ to properly fit me so I might just be in the clear.” That, at least, had made him feel like his luck was starting to turn in his favor. “Oh, I wouldn’t start counting my yellow moons and blue stars yet,” Miss Mandie said. “You can’t throw a rock in Hope without hitting four women with sewing machines in their closets and nothing better to do on a Friday night than magically make a pair of velvet short pants long enough to accommodate a wild rover like you.” Ian smiled and swept his hat off to her. She just shook her head. “If I was twenty years younger, I’d Mrs. Robinson your smartass into the ground. Bet the ladies around here can’t get enough of you, huh?” Ian shrugged. “Lots of friendlies here. Well, mostly.” “I saw you talking to our resident Wednesday Addams.” Ian frowned. “Wednesday?” “At least what would pass for ‘Wednesday’ on Hope. She’s obsessed with ballet instead of death, but otherwise, she’s pretty close. Serious, driven, sarcastic as hell . . . joyless.” Ian nodded. “I hear she’s always been . . .” “Eh, she was a happy kid,” Miss Mandie said. “And always a sarcastic little bird. Man, once when she was seven, she came right up to the bakery counter, pointed at my case of Well-Endowed eclairs and asked me if I made them because I missed the real thing.” “At seven?” Ian thought he was going to choke on his tongue. Miss Mandie w

Less than a week until Ian and Cara are here! 💚🍀💚🍀 He pulled her closer and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Ya know . . .” his breath was warm, tickling along her neck. She had to bite back a hum of pleasure. “If someone had told me three weeks ago that tonight I’d be dancin’ with Cara Livingston, I’d have called them a liar.” https://readerlinks.com/l/3217905

“This place is bedlam,” he said watching people rush around carrying half a leprechaun, sections of a rainbow, and something that was either a massive thumb or . . . “Nothing gets by you,” a deep woman’s voice laughed behind him. He turned to see the saucy judge from the night before. She was the bakery owner . . . Miss Mandie. “Next thing you know, they’ll be naming you the pope.” “Nah,” Ian said. “I don’t like the prerequisites that come with that job.” “Dress code?” Miss Mandie asked. “Celibacy,” Ian chuckled. She laughed. It was a deep belly laugh that made him smile. “It’s nice to see someone so honest about what they want . . . in a job.” A figure in sweats stepped around them and headed into the chaos. He caught the light floral scent that still clung to his coat and he recognized the messy tangle of light red curls pulled up on her head as she moved away from them. She hadn’t even slowed down and her huge bag swayed where it was slung over her shoulder. It looked like she hadn’t even noticed him standing there. Or, if she had, she hadn’t been obvious about it. “I know that look,” Miss Mandie chuckled. Ian turned to her. “What?” She shook her head. “That girl may as well have been a cartoon pie on a window sill and you’re just the hungry traveler, hoping for a . . .” “Oh no,” he said, trying to keep his face innocent, his expression at least appearing to be genuine. “I’m . . . we’re supposed to work on the same . . .” He looked around at the little carts. “Floating.” Miss Mandie was still laughing as he headed off after Cara. When he spotted her again, she was standing in the corner, looking defeated as she pulled brightly-colored streamers out of a huge bin bag. “Need a hand?” Ian asked. Cara’s head jerked up and he held his breath. Would she tell him to feck off? Maybe turn red? He could only hope. She was pretty damn cute when she was flustered. But she didn

Two weeks until we get the carefree Irish fella / way-too-serious ballerina love story we've alwayss wanted! Ian is so swoony, y'all! * * * “Why do we go overboard on this holiday every year, anyway?” Cara grumbled. “Fake leprechauns? Cartoon clovers on everything? Green beer? Everything is so fake.” She gestured to the sign behind the bar advertising the special. “I swear, if there's a real Irish person in this town, I’ll kiss his blarney stones off.” Several stools down the bar, a tall man in a flat cap with dark hair and green eyes leaned forward and met her gaze. He had a lazy smile and it was zeroed in on Cara. She felt a different kind of tremor roll through her chest. “Ya have my attention, love.” http://mybook.to/ReelLove

#missmandiethings #CupidCanSuckIt The Singles Mingle Brunch was being set up with a buffet and in one corner, she saw Miss Mandie’s Tipple Cart, “Cart-lotta”. Bart was standing between her “legs”, rumpled, tired, and looking like he was having the same morning she was. “Are you grateful this morning?” Molly muttered to him when she drew even with Cartlotta. Bart blinked at her. “Grateful that one more morning like this will probably kill me. Resting in eternal slumber sounds really good right now.” “Hangover?” Molly asked, turning her back to the sun and squeezing her eyes shut. “Yeah,” he muttered. “But I snagged some of Miss Mandie’s cure on my way out of the shop this morning.” “You have my attention,” Molly said, prying her eyes open. Bart wordlessly poured her a cup of coffee, pulled a flask out of his pocket and dumped an ounce of clear liquid into it before trading it to her in exchange for Clem’s leash. Molly didn’t hesitate. She blew on the coffee and then took a long, scalding sip. It tasted like someone had topped off their truckstop coffee with the unleaded pump. “Dear god, what the hell did you put in there?” she gasped. “Everclear,” he muttered. “You know how they say ‘a little hair of the dog’? Well, Miss Mandie calls this ‘Werewolf Full Brazilian’. How do you feel?” Molly swallowed again, feeling the burn in her throat turning into a warmth spreading through her chest. The caffeine was traveling her well-worn neural pathways and lifting the fog from her vision. “Better,” she said, blinking at Bart. She looked down into her cup. “I mean, it’s going to be hard to explain to my clients why I smell like hard liquor this morning, but . . .” “Screw them,” Bart said, nodding down at the flask as he topped his own coffee off, “They’re not the ones who are hurting. You don’t have to explain anything. To anybody. We’re all just trying to make it through the day.” Moll

"Teagan Hart has hit the romantic comedy book scene with a huge splash and the waves keep getting bigger with each new release. I honestly couldn’t count how many times I laughed out loud while reading this!" - Jennifer, Amazon http://mybook.to/CupidCanSuckIt

It's launch day for Cupid Can Suck It! <3 Valentine’s Day weddings are rough. Fake boyfriends you’re secretly hot for are tricky. But to avoid yet another sister’s special day in a sh*tty bridesmaid's dress with no date, Molly will do anything. Certified Public Accountant Molly Frasier is the oldest of four sisters and holds the family record for “most appearances as very single bridesmaid”. So when her mom calls at the end of a particularly bad day, she will say anything to get out of not having a date to her baby sister’s wedding. Enter Dirk Dawson.The hunky ladies' man from Baskin Construction likes Molly. She’s funny, smart, and she hates Valentine’s Day as much as he does. When he walks into Molly’s office in the middle of her panic attack, he’ll do anything to help calm her down. Including agreeing to pose as her fake boyfriend to get her parents off her back. As they stumble through family dance lessons, interrogation dinners, and Hope Island’s special blend of holiday insanity, they hatch a plan to take down Valentine’s Day on their way to the altar. But when someone starts turning their harmless pranks deadly, watching each other’s backs . . . and fronts . . . is the only way they’ll make it to VDay alive! Cupid Can Suck It is a small town friends-to-lovers fake relationship holiday romantic comedy with new adult aged MCs that will have you laughing out loud, tearing up, and always wanting more from this hilarious island community. Join the wacky residents of Hope Island today and dive into this fifth book in the Hope Island Holiday Romances! This full novel contains profanity and is not a clean romance. It is a plot-focused, emotional slowburn HEA with realistic characters and no instalove. The MMC is a green flag / cinnamon roll hero. While part of the Hope Island Holiday Romance series, it can be read as a stand alone, and has no cliffhanger. https://tinyurl.com/CupidCanSuckIt #smalltownlove #smalltownromancebooks #

#missmandiethings Clem and Lem steal the show again!! * * * “Pup cups?” Those were the magic words. Now, they were dragging her toward De-Floured and the cups of whipped cream with the same strength their ancestors had used to pull sleds of medicine or the sick and dying to safety. Miss Mandie was standing outside on a smoke break, staring at the square and shaking her head when they slid to a halt beside her. “Horrifying, isn’t it?” Miss Mandie asked. “Well,” Molly said, staring back at the square. “I’m pretty sure that this is the start of a horror movie where Hope Island becomes a hostage ghost town. And the only voice the hostage negotiator can hear over the phone is the sickly-sweet giant cupid baby overlord asking him if he’s an orphanage, because he wants to give him kids.” “Jesus,” Miss Mandie muttered. “I thought Glenda went around the bend last year with the human kissing tic-tac-toe board.” Miss Mandie snorted. “Well, until Rev explained to her what a threesome was and that by nature, you need ‘three-in-a-row’ for tic-tac-toe.” “Or diagonally,” Molly chuckled. Miss Mandie sighed fondly. “That was one of my favorite movies to work on.” Molly glanced over at her. “It was called Three’s Hump-any, but there was this really great diagonal wedge set . . .” Clem and Lem whined. They couldn’t contain their excitement anymore. They’d immediately sat down in front of Miss Mandie at rapt attention to wait. “Sorry, Miss Mandie,” Molly said. “They’re really excited about pup cups.” “Careful,” she muttered, glancing around the square. “Copyright laws, Sweet Thing. At De-Floured, we have Pupper Cuppers.” “Right,” Molly chuckled. “Those.”

This will be the last WIP post for Cupid because next week it will be out!! But for now enjoy this sexy sequence with some doofy huskies on the side. ;) #wipwednesdays * * * She was bending over her desk when she heard him come in the office’s front door behind her. “I’ll be with you in one second,” she called over her shoulder. The sound of work boots, heavy and sure on the carpet behind her. She felt herself smile. And then the feel of his hands on her hips, gripping her and pulling her back to rest against him. “But what if I want you with me now?” Daws’ deep voice said, chocolate and lava and every word plucked a string so deep inside her. “Then I guess I’ll have to brush off my customer service skills . . . and take care of you,” she whispered, grounding her hips back against him. He let out a growl that made her nipples hard. “Oh,” he said, “but I’m always the one getting served when I come into this office. I think it’s time I did the serving.” A thrill shot through her as she felt him guide her over onto her back, knocking stacks of paper on the floor with the strength of his urgency. And then she was staring up into that rugged, bearded face, smiling down at her, his eyes awake and hungry, like a predator surveying its prey. She felt herself shiver. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he went down to his knees and began to inch her skirt up. That hungry look bore into her with every gasp as he started kissing his way up her thigh, trailing after his kisses with his tongue. His teeth met her panties and then he was pushing them aside and . . . Molly shot up in bed, panting and covered in sweat. Holy hell. Clem fell off the bed and Lem lifted his head from her other side to whine at her for waking him up. “Sorry boys,” she breathed, trying to get her heartbeat back under control. She scooted over and patted the bed, inviting a very disgruntled Clem to climb back up. Of course, when she scooted over, Lem start

“Doc, do you have a minute to give me a hand?” Andi gave an inward sigh. She may have been in Seattle for the last eight years, but the islander in her was strong. It was the same reason she hadn’t been able to tell Mrs. Bumble to go to hell when the woman cornered her into saying she’d go to the support group meeting. When a fellow islander asked for help, or even a stranger asked for help, the Hope genes compelled you to at least say yes. You could disregard it later, but usually, at your own peril. People on the island not only had the memories of elephants, they could hold grudges like them too. “Sure,” Andi said, her voice resigned as she followed Miss Mandie back inside, “What do you need?” The bakery was dark except for the dim security light behind the counter. “Oh I’ve just got some goodies to take over and Bart already left with the cart.” The “cart” as Miss Mandie called it, was a hand-carved rickshaw that was a bakery case and mini-bar on wheels. She’d had it custom-made by the Baskins, who had delivered it a month ago, red-faced, to Miss Mandie’s door as Andi was heading home from work. The two long arms the person pulling it stood between and used to move the cart forward . . . had been carved like a very voluptuous and shapely pair of legs, angled up in the air. The legs ended in four-inch stilettos which Miss Mandie said she needed so she’d have a place to hang her bottle openers when she was running the bar. It was a sight she’d argued should be the eighth wonder of Hope, but the board of tourism on the Island, which barely tolerated Miss Mandie, felt . . . differently. #missmandiethings

Work In Progress Wednesdays! - Cupid Can Suck It drops January 30th!! There was a group of women in pigtails and braids, checkered dresses, and those white shirts with puffy sleeves, holding nets and heading down Oceanfront. They were laughing, swaying, and occasionally stumbling as they talked. And in the back, wearing a dark green checkered dress, her long red hair wild, and a fishing net over her shoulder, was Molly. She looked snockered. But . . .beautiful. “I see you,” Daws said into the phone, grinning down at her. “I’m on the roof. Gimme a minute and I’ll be down there.” He hung up and turned to see the other Baskin Construction workers still watching him. “Back to work, ladies. Nothing to see here.” “Nothing to see, my heart-ass,” Dale said. “There’s a checkered mob coming. All that’s missing is the torches.” “And why are they carrying . . . butterfly nets?” Will asked, squinting down at the women. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Daws growled, pulling out his construction foreman voice. “I want the next two courses of shingles laid before I get back up here or we’re going to play shooting gallery where I have the nail gun and you three are the ducks.” They grumbled at his back as he headed for the ladder. By the time he reached the ground, the women were in the yard below. They were gathered in a tight knot of giggling, talking, and swaying where they stood. He saw Mrs. Frasier and Ellen shove Molly from behind and the rest of the group backed away, leaving her out in front of them like a sacrifice. Molly’s cheeks were flushed and he could see the embarrassment crashing over her, just like the night before when he’d asked her about that billionaire dragon shifter book on her shelf. He should have written the title down. It would be . . . interesting to know what kind of man she was into. Just . . . to know. “I . . . am so . . . sorry about this,” Molly said in a low voice to him. “I didn’t quite

"TH brings the LOL humor of Pippa Grant into the story and the steam we love into this HEA. It's a great read to start off your year!!" https://tinyurl.com/AuldLangMine

#missmandiethings “I’ve just remembered. You switch everyone to decaf at the beginning of the year,” Molly said. “And no offense, but I need some . . .” Miss Mandie waved a hand at her. “Just for January. Today started a new month. I thought about slowly increasing everyone’s caffeine intake, you know, just gearing them up for December in ten months with triple caffeine levels, but then I thought, you know what, life’s short. Anyway, in my lethargic state this morning, I ground a whole bag of Colombian Arabica beans into what was supposed to be my ‘First Love’ February blend, and . . . well . . .” Miss Mandie motioned to one of the lone figures still in the bakery. It was Mrs. Rothenberg wearing her usual black funeral dress, severe bun, and glare. Her hand was shaking as she brought her large coffee up to her lips. Well, to be fair, all of her seemed to be . . . shaking. “Wow. She’s . . . vibrating” Molly said. Miss Mandie nodded. “I call it, BBC.” She filled a to-go cup and snapped on a lid before moving over to the bakery case. “Big Black Coffee. In fact, I liked the flavor so much, I mixed a little in with the cinnamon frosting I was making and so now, you can have your BBC with . . .” she reached into the cabinet with a pastry bag and pulled out a classic raised donut, decorated with little spikes of red and pink icing. “Tingler rings.” “Two please,” Molly snorted. Miss Mandie nodded approvingly and bagged a second donut. “I figure they’re festive enough with the pink and red frosting. Glenda’s probably going to sh*t those little chalk candy hearts out when she hears about them, but I say if we’re going to be strong-armed into holiday cheer, we do it our way.” “Here, here,” Molly said, raising her to-go cup. https://tinyurl.com/CupidCanSuckIt

Work In Progress Wednesday - Cupid Can Suck It drops on January 30! Sibling weddings are rough. Fake boyfriends are tricky. His Mom showing up and your sister inviting her to the wedding? 😳 * * * She was sweating. She was in a heavy coat, praying that she wasn’t about to witness Daws’ mom discovering his “sex aid stash” and Beth was freaking out in her ear about centerpieces. “The cupids look like naked men,” Beth was shrieking. “Did Miss Mandie make them?” Molly muttered into the phone. “This isn’t funny, Mol, what am I going to do? It’s going to look like a reception for whatever the porn version of the Emmy’s is.” “The In-and-Out-y’s?” “I need help . . .” “Yes, you do,” Molly agreed. “I mean tonight. Where are you?” “I’m at Daws’, I can . . .” “Oh! Did I . . . interrupt something?” Beth had gone from panicking bride to calculating, teasing sister in the span of a single sentence. “No,” Molly said, trying not to growl into the phone. “His mom just arrived and . . .” “His mom is in town?” “For a visit,” Molly hissed into the phone. “You have to invite her to the wedding.” “What? No. You were just freaking out about place cards and where you were going to stick Uncle Otis and Aunt Velda this morning. I have ten text messages and a barely coherent voicemail to prove it. Nothing quite like waking up in the morning to you screaming ‘Otis!’ in my ear.” “Oh, the place cards went out the window. Tony gave me an edible and we did some re-evaluating. Now there’s plenty of room. And Daws’ mom should come. After all, you’re dating her son.” Molly took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe the edible hadn’t worn off. Maybe Beth was also drunk. Or maybe Beth had finally snapped and lost her grip on reality. “You don’t know Daws’ mom,” she muttered into the phone. “And she doesn’t know you. She just met me.” “Ask Molly to stay for dinner,” she

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ for Auld Lang Mine! "This was exactly the book I needed today. I’ve missed the whole Christmas celebration with my family because of the flu. This book broke me out of my self-pity party and got me laughing." https://tinyurl.com/AuldLangMine