Blue Collar Bad Boys

They call me Anvil. It's not my real name, but that's what it feels like when my meaty fist comes down on you if you misbehave in the road house where I work. I've seen some crazy stuff as a bouncer. I thought I'd seen it all. But I've never seen anything like her. Just one look and I knew my life was never going to be the same. She's sweet, innocent, and looking for trouble. She found it. I'm big and mean and more trouble than she ever imagined. I'm going to mess up all her carefully laid plans. And I'm going to make her mine.

I’m not the kind of guy you leave alone in your house. I’m especially not the kind you leave alone with your innocent daughter. My newest client doesn’t seem to care. He just wants his office remodeled. His college-aged daughter isn’t my usual type, but under those prim clothes and too big glasses, the sweet little bookworm hides a tight little body that’s tempting AF.

Four years ago, my buddy's dying words to me were to watch out for his little sister. I did what he asked from afar, and when she graduated and got a job teaching kindergarten, I asked her to "housesit" for me since I'm hardly ever home when I'm working on the oil rig. But now I'm injured and have to recuperate at home, and my extra-curvy housesitter is anything but safe from me. She's the homebody type. She'll make some man an excellent wife someday, be a good mother. She likes taking care of people. It would be wrong AF to take her the way I want to, but it would feel so right.

I knew the moment I saw her bent over the hood of her car on the side of the road that Layna was trouble. It looked like the opening scene from a porno. A shapely blonde in a short skirt waiting for me to tow her sports car out of a ditch and dirty up that sweet, pure body with my filthy mechanic hands. I could hear the bow-chicka-bow-wow soundtrack in my head. Then, she opened her sassy mouth, and everything about my reclusive, sensible, quiet life changed because Layna is not reclusive, sensible, or quiet.