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  The Neighbor Next Door

  A Forbidden Romance

  Cassandra Dee

  Copyright © 2020 by Cassandra Dee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

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  To all the girls who’ve been just a tiny bit competitive with their mother.

  This one’s for you!

  Also By Cassandra Dee and Friends

  The Forbidden Fun Series

  My Sister’s Husband

  My Mom’s Husband

  My Best Friend’s Dad

  My Son’s Girlfriend

  My Mom’s Fiancé

  My Neighbor’s Husband

  My Best Friend’s Husband

  My Brother’s Teammates

  My Fiancé’s Twin Brothers

  The Neighbor Next Door

  The Falling Series

  Falling for My Dad’s Best Friend

  Falling for My Boyfriend’s Dad

  Falling for My Son’s Best Friend

  Falling for My Beautiful Ward

  Falling for My Enemy

  The Double Series

  Double Dare

  Double Exposure

  Double Love

  Double Desire

  Double Trouble

  Double Candy Canes

  The Dirty Series

  The Dirty Hotel King

  My Friend’s Dirty Uncle

  My Dirty Professor

  The Dirty Headmaster

  Sold to Him

  His Filthy Game

  The Dirty Set-Up

  The Billionaires Club

  Sold at the Auction

  Serving Him

  Buy Me

  Virgin for Sale

  Anonymous Encounters

  The #BABYCRAZY Series

  #BABYMACHINE

  #BABYMAKER

  #BABYFEVER

  #BABYCRAZY

  In Love with Menage

  All the Best Men

  Their Secret

  It’s a Deal

  Just One Night

  Just One Night, Vol 1

  Just One Night, Vol 2

  Just One Night, Vol 3

  Just One Night, Vol 4

  The Manning Brothers

  Just One More

  Just One Inch

  Just Two Much

  Just The Tip

  The Dial-A-Date Series

  The President My Lover

  Client No. 6

  Bad Cop

  Reverse Harem

  Seven Brothers of Sin

  Six Ways to Sin

  Three Rockstars of Sin

  Shared

  Shared, Vol. 1

  Shared, Vol. 2

  Shared, Vol. 3

  Shared, Vol. 4

  The Claiming Her Series

  Claiming Her In The Ring

  Claiming Her In The Pool

  Claiming Her At The Bar

  Claiming Her As A Daddy

  Claiming Her In the Forest

  The Boss Series

  My Boyfriend’s Boss

  Pregnant by My Boss

  Pregnant by the CEO

  The His Series

  His Captive

  His Woman

  His Love

  His Christmas Gift

  Daddy Academy

  Daddy Academy

  Standalones

  Don’t Fall For Me

  Tie Me Up Daddy

  Paying My Boyfriend’s Debt

  Beg Me

  Prison Fling

  Cocky AF

  Iron Soldier

  Buck Me Cowboy

  Small Town Secrets

  The President and the Starlet

  His Baby

  Buying a Bride

  The Billionaire’s Kitten

  Closer

  Loving the Babysitter

  Daddy’s Rich Enemy

  Daddy’s Pretty Baby

  Contents

  About This Book

  1. Janie

  2. Janie

  3. Janie

  4. Janie

  5. Trent

  6. Janie

  7. Trent

  8. Janie

  9. Trent

  10. Janie

  11. Janie

  12. Janie

  13. Trent

  14. Janie

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: My Fiance’s Twin Brothers

  Sneak Peek: #BABYCRAZY

  About the Author

  About This Book

  Most people don’t think of their mom as “the competition.” But when a gorgeous man moves in next door, Janie’s mom has her sights set on their new neighbor with the rippling muscles and charming grin. But what happens when Trent only has eyes for Janie, her curvy, innocent daughter?

  * * *

  After doing a stint in jail, Trent’s just trying to stay out of trouble. His new neighbor, Vivian, is all about wearing sexy bikinis when he’s out working in the yard. But he doesn’t give a rat’s a$$ about Vivian. Instead, he’s drawn to Janie, Vivian’s virginal daughter with the sassy laugh and lush curves.

  * * *

  Hey Readers - This is a taboo tale where an older woman competes with her young, innocent daughter for the attentions of a hardened ex-con. He’s muscled … he’s got tattoos … and he’s only got eyes for one woman in the end. The story’s totally off the reservation, but in a good way. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA for my readers. You’ll love it, I promise! Xoxo, Cassandra

  1

  Janie

  “I have a surprise for you!” calls Vivian from the hallway, slamming the front door. She storms into the kitchen in a sudden eruption of cheap heels on tiles that has me almost drop the tray of cookies I’m about to put in the oven. Most moms wear Sketchers and shapeless cardigans, but not my mom. Vivian’s blonde curls are done in a messy yet sexy updo, and she has her usual skin-tight yoga wear on. The woman stops in her tracks, looking disapprovingly at me.

  “Janie,” she complains. “Why are you baking cookies on a Friday afternoon? Shouldn’t you be getting ready to be somewhere?”

  I shrug, placing the baking tray on the middle shelf and closing the oven.

  “Like where?”

  “Like a party? A date? A friend’s house? Something?” Vivian exhales, exasperated. I right myself and wipe my floury hands on my apron, calmly reaching out for the “surprise” she’s holding. I’ve long given up explaining to my mom that I enjoy my own company and I’m not interested in all that high school stuff. But she just doesn’t get it.

  “What’s this?” I ask, ignoring her comments and opening the box.

  “It’s a dress,” Vivian grumps.

  “I can see that,” I retort. “What for?”

  Vivian rolls her eyes.

  “For you to wear somewhere, of course. Somewhere fun!” I look at the cloth in my hands: it’s a black silky thing, and by the looks of it, way sexier than I would ever choose for myself. Vivian and I are so different, and I think it’s something she’s never forgiven me for. My mom’s what lots of men would consider a bombshell: thin, bleached blonde, and always tan. No one ever believes I'm her daughter with my brown curly hair, milky skin, and generously curvy body that has given me plenty of cause to be shy about. After all, my Double D’s
are four times the size of Vivian’s, my big thighs and ass would never fit her jeans, and my soft arms jiggle more than her entire body put together.

  Yet this dress isn’t exactly something Vivian would wear herself, either. She’s clearly made a real effort to find something she thought I’d like. The tag is still on it. She must have just gone shopping.

  “Mom,” I say, smiling at her in a sudden rush of affection. “That’s really sweet. But I don’t have anywhere to wear this to.” Vivian gestures impatiently at the dress. “The point is that now you have it, you find somewhere to where it to. That’s how little black dresses work.”

  I don’t think that’s true, and I also don’t think little black dresses are meant to be this tiny, but I keep all this to myself.

  “Thanks,” I say warily, before handing it back to her. She looks at me incredulously as I go back to my cookie dough, starting to prepare the second baking sheet to go in the oven.

  “Janie,” says Vivian in her attempt at the strict mom-voice. It never was her thing. “These are the best years of your life. You’re a high school senior! You should be out there having fun! Going to parties! Hell, even breaking the rules a little bit!”

  “Most parents would be happy to know their kid chooses straight A’s over underage drinking, Mom,” I retort. She snorts, folding her thin, veiny arms. I look up at her accusingly, unable to hide the salt in my voice. “And those straight A’s will get me into college. You know my only shot at going is by getting a scholarship.”

  At least Vivian has the grace to look a little ashamed.

  “I know, Janie, and I’m proud of you. But being social is important, too. I mean, look at me! Thirty-six, yet with the social life of a twenty-one year-old!” she proclaims proudly.

  I resist the temptation to roll my eyes because my mom’s also been married three times and divorced three times in her thirty-six years. How’s that for a doozie? But she just doesn’t get it, and continues to hound me.

  “How about some fun? I mean, boys, Janie. Boys. Have you ever even been kissed before?” My face burns and I continue to focus on the little dollops of cookie dough I’m spooning out onto the baking sheet. “Well?” she insists.

  “You know I haven’t, Mom,” I mumble.

  “That’s okay!” Vivian exclaims quickly, in an overly sympathetic tone that suggests it’s not. “But you’ll want to, you know, get that over with, before you go to college, don’t you think?”

  Here she goes again. I let her drone on about the importance of losing my virginity before going to college, but it’s not that simple. Because I want to hold out for someone special. Someone who really gets my juices flowing hopefully. Vivian’s different because I was born right after she graduated high school, and I think she has some regrets having me so early. As a result, she wants me to do things a little differently, like live it up while I’m single.

  But the thing is that my mom and I are just fundamentally different. It’s not like I’m not interested in sex. But so far, none of the acne-ridden boys in my high school have inspired me to lust. What I need is a man. Someone big and strong, with rippling muscles and a deep voice, someone who’d know what to do with my body, someone who’d take me. Someone who was seriously hung with a huge, thick cock. Someone like the men in the romance novels I like to read.

  But who am I kidding? Those novels are fantasies. Men like that don’t exist. And even if they did, they’d never be interested in curvy, nerdy, Janie Martin.

  Although there is that guy who just moved next door. I think his name is Trent - his mail was sticking out of his mailbox one time and I secretly stole a glance at the address. I bet he’s hung, all right. He’s very mysterious and I’ve only seen him a couple of times, but on those occasions I felt as if the lust I’d only experienced reading my romance novels had been manifested in the flesh. Vivian and I had been unloading some grocery bags from the car and there he was, working on his car in the driveway. His shirt was off, showing off an incredibly muscled upper body covered in tattoos. His black hair was combed back, glinting in the sunlight, one strand falling over his brow as he tinkered with the engine. Vivian had practically dropped the brown paper bags, tripping over herself to go and say hi. I’d died of course. This was my mom, after all.

  But since that day, I haven't seen him since. Trent’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen and if I'm honest with myself, I have to admit I’m incredibly turned on by him.

  But back to the problem at hand.

  “At least try it on for me,” wheedles Vivian, and I’m aware I haven’t been listening to a word she’s been saying. Not that she’s noticed.

  “What would be the point, Mom?” I say, finishing off the second baking tray and placing it in the oven. The warm waft of sugariness of the first tray blasts me full in the face, making my mouth water. “The point would be for me to at least be able to see it on you! Just once! Even if you’re too ungrateful to actually wear it out,” she retorts. I roll my eyes.

  “Fine,” I say, and untying my apron I stalk to my room, snatching the dress from Vivian’s hand.

  Impatiently, I unzip my jeans and throw them on the floor and yank my T-shirt over my head. Standing in front of my full-length mirror, I stand looking at myself in underwear. Uck, I’m all folds and jiggles. I pull a face and hastily drag the black, silky material over my head and chest and down to my legs - where it ends, much to my disdain - high up on my thighs.

  Great, I think. Thanks for nothing, Mom. But then I glance up at the mirror and I have to admit, the dress is flattering.

  My arms may be soft but my shoulders are small and so is my waist, two facts that are highlighted by this particular cut. My huge tits aren’t crushed by the material, as is the case with most dresses I’ve tried, but are liberated by the incredibly low neckline and are pushed up and together. The material clings to my soft belly rolls and wide hips in a way that doesn’t make me look like beached whale, but rather a diva. And turning around to admire my large ass, I’m pleasantly surprised by the way the material ends just under by butt cheeks for a flattering fit.

  Yes, the dress is slutty - but I find myself wondering what that guy Trent would say if he saw me in this. What would a man like that do? I can’t help it as a shiver runs through my frame … because I desperately want to find out.

  2

  Janie

  “And?” comes Vivian’s muffled shriek from the other side of my locked bedroom door, startling me. I start peeling the dress off. “Well?” she asks insistently.

  “It’s okay, I guess,” I lie.

  “Aren’t you going to show me?” she continues.

  “Maybe another time!” I call back, throwing my regular clothes back on. The sudden baggy softness is comforting. What was I thinking, putting on a dress like that?

  “You’re so ungrateful!” Vivian says in exasperation before stalking off. I roll my eyes and unlock the door before peering outside. Good. My mom’s gone. Finally, a moment’s peace.

  For a moment I stand staring at the dress, playing with the idea of putting it back on and “accidentally” walking past my bedroom window. What would our hunky neighbor do if he saw? But as I glance out of the window, which affords me a full view of his backyard, pool and all, I can see he’s not even out there right now. Sighing in annoyance at myself for such a ridiculous idea in the first place, I put the dress on a hanger in my wardrobe. Vivian will have to return it.

  Given my breathless daydreams about Trent, maybe my mom’s right. Maybe it’s time I got some action. After all, I’m definitely thirsting for it and what good will it do me to stick to reading romance novels and fantasizing about the new neighbor who will never notice me? I’m don’t want to be a pathetic loser.

  Yet, I know myself too well to know that going to a party, meeting a guy and hooking up with him won’t work for me either. It’s just not my thing, and after having been such a wallflower through all of high school, it will draw way more attention than I’m comfortable. And ev
en if I did go to some wild high school party, there’s still the issue with not being attracted to scrawny high school boys. No. If I’m going to find a big, strong, hung guy worthy of the word man, I’m going to have to go another route: online dating. I’m a shy, curvy virgin who wants a real man. There are apps for this stuff! Right? God, I hope so.

  But hope springs anew, and suddenly excited, I sit down at my laptop and start searching for a good matchmaking site. I don’t want the kind of dating app you can just swipe left or right on. It’s been done to death. There must be new ones out there, for people like me who are a little less experienced with this sort of thing. For people who want to build an avatar and get to know someone a little before they meet up. Not just a hook-up app. Aha… what’s this? ChatWorld. Hmm, could this be the one?

  Honestly, I’m not sure what to think because it’s not like I have a ton of experience with dating apps. But this one seems decent at least. There are three million members, and the male profiles I glance through seem legit. I heard that sometimes these apps create fake profiles to entice new users, but when you communicate with these so-called “people,” they never write back because they’re just clickbait. I don’t want to fall for that one.