Hartigans should come with a warning label.
No, that wouldn’t be enough. There should also be sirens, alarm bells, six-foot-high razor wire, a full military squadron armed to the teeth, and the scariest nun from St. Bernadette’s School for Girls, all of whom would warn that the end (of your panties) was nigh.
But not Katie Madigan’s panties.
Nope.
Her French cut undies were as safe as Fort Knox because she knew better than to ever fall for the charms of a Hartigan—especially Frank Hartigan.
Amazon Apple Books Kobo Nook Goodreads
Airhead: A Hartigans Totally ’80s Hot RomCom
The night in 1982 that changed everything…
There is no way I can resist avenging my sister’s broken heart by filling her cheating boyfriend’s bitchin’ DeLorean with extra buttered movie popcorn, a half-melted Snickers, and the contents of one shaken can of Tab.
There’s only one six-foot-six-inch problem. It’s not The Creep’s car. It’s Frank “The Airhead” Hartigan’s. Now he wants me to drive him to Harbor City to make up for trashing his ride.
On the outside, I’m all gag me with a spoon, but on the inside? Yeah, not so much. The truth is I haven’t stopped thinking about him since that night at Marino’s Bar when he rocked my world to the max—something that can’t happen again.
Frank Hartigan isn’t a guy you fall for if you want to keep your heart in one piece. Waterbury is littered with the broken hearts of the women who forgot that, and I am not about to join their ranks.
Fine. I’ll drive him around town, but that’s it.
No kisses.
No getting hot and bothered.
No toe-curling anything.
And no matter what happens tonight, my heart—and my panties—will for sure remain untouched.
