Officer Tyson

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Summary

Police officer James Tyson doesn’t seem to ever find the right pace in relationships. Either he gets down on one knee way too soon, or he moves too slowly and his girl gets bored. Finding that balance between being smart about dating and going with his gut… It’s hard, especially because he’s ready to meet the love of his life, get married, and have kids. Preferably in that order, but… life is unpredictable. Mila Philips used to do porn, and now she’s got her own website. Charging guys to watch her touch herself is a pretty good way to pay the bills. Although… sometimes, it can get lonely. Having someone touch you because they want to and not just because it’s their job is something that Mila misses more than she’d like to admit. James is a serious guy that keeps his more adventurous side – including a racy piercing and some hot tats – carefully hidden. Mila is fun and sexy, and she doesn’t like showing people that she’s also vulnerable and sweet. What happens when their worlds collide in a way they never expected? Do opposites truly attract, or would they be better off with someone a little more similar?

Genre:
Romance / Erotica
Author:
Goddess Hedone
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
109
Rating:
4.9 111 reviews
Age Rating:
18+

#1 The celiac baker

INFO [chapter 1 starts right after the info]

The Sweet Caroline series consists of many books. All books can be read as stand-alones, but they work best as a series. At the start of each book, I always tell my readers which book would be wise to read first to understand the past of the characters.

The books can be split into two separate series: the first generation & the next generation. The next generation is about characters that were kids in the books about the first generation.

FIRST GENERATION: 1. Sweet Caroline // 2. Slutty Shaughna // 3. Eager Annabel // 4. Feisty Francesca // 5. Twisted Thomas // 7. Chef Quiroz // 8. Caring Christopher // 9. Officer Tyson

NEXT GENERATION: 1. Blooming Rose // 2. Jealous Jagger // 3. Needy Nia // 4. Guarded Marcus // 5. Charming Creed // 6. Thompson Twins

***

You can read this as a stand-alone story, but if you’re going to read my other stories as well, you might want to start with “Sweet Caroline”.

We meet James Tyson for the first time in “Feisty Francesca” as Francesca’s first serious boyfriend. Later, we see him as Tracy’s friend in “Twisted Thomas” and some small scenes in other books.

I would recommend reading “Feisty Francesca” and “Twisted Thomas” before reading “Officer Thompson”, but it’s up to you! The books work as stand-alones too, so feel free to skip a book in the series if it doesn’t appeal to you.

***

OFFICER TYSON - BLURB

Police officer James Tyson doesn’t seem to ever find the right pace in relationships. Either he gets down on one knee way too soon, or he moves too slowly and his girl gets bored. Finding that balance between being smart about dating and going with his gut… It’s hard, especially because he’s ready to meet the love of his life, get married, and have kids. Preferably in that order, but… life is unpredictable.

Mila Philips used to do porn, and now she’s got her own website. Charging guys to watch her touch herself is a pretty good way to pay the bills. Although… sometimes, it can get lonely. Having someone touch you because they want to and not just because it’s their job is something that Mila misses more than she’d like to admit.

James is a serious guy that keeps his more adventurous side – including a racy piercing and some hot tats – carefully hidden. Mila is fun and sexy, and she doesn’t like showing people that she’s also vulnerable and sweet. What happens when their worlds collide in a way they never expected? Do opposites truly attract, or would they be better off with someone a little more similar?

***

#1 The celiac baker

James

It’s closed. The fucking bakery is closed, on the very morning I desperately need twenty donuts. Ted is retiring, and it’s a running gag to get him donuts, because he is the stereotypical cop. Big belly, huge mustache, hasn’t been able to run after a suspect in years, and he’s as tough as he is sweet. He’s this big, grumpy teddy bear, and the best detective we’ve got on the force. I promised to bring the donuts for breakfast this morning, and now the bakery I usually hit up for stuff like this is closed. The note says it’s because of personal circumstances.

Fuck.

That means calling the number on the bottom of the piece of paper would be a dick move. I can’t bother the couple running this place when they’re dealing with personal stuff, just because I need some donuts. I’ll have to find another place. Problem is, Ted is very particular about his donuts, and the only other bakery I know has good ones is across town. I’ll be late for breakfast at the station.

Ugh. I knew I shouldn’t have gone to the gym before work. I lost track of time boxing with Aston, and now I am running out of time.

Oh well. Nothing to be done about it now. I get back in my car and pull onto the busy road. I know the town pretty well since I do what they call order maintenance. It means I patrol the roads, show up when someone calls the station because their neighbor’s party is too loud, I pick up drunks mulling around on the streets, and I drive around a lot, responding to whatever I see and stuff that is called in. Some days I end up in horrible fights or arrest scary-ass guys, but most days are way less exciting.

A familiar song comes on the radio and I grunt, tempted to turn it off. Like I’m gonna lose you by Meghan Trainor. In my mind, it will always be sung by my ex-girlfriend Francesca. It was the song she sang to me to tell me she loved me. It’s been a long time since we broke up, and I’ve been in love with two other girls since Franny, but she still feels like the one that got away.

Just like all the other girls I’ve ever loved, Franny is married with kids. Okay, fine, my ex-girlfriend Dora isn’t married yet. She’s only engaged. She complained that things were going too slow with me, she broke things off, and only three months later, she posted a picture on her Instagram of a gigantic engagement ring. I unfollowed Dora after that, not able to handle a full year of wedding planning updates.

What stings is that before Francesca, I was that guy. The guy who proposes after only three months. Franny’s steady love, our deep talks, and a lot of therapy helped me move on from that, which was the best thing that ever happened to me, but it did cost me Dora.

The other girl I fell in love with after Franny… well, that was a little more complicated. I was with Dora already, but things weren’t going too well, and Tracy was… well, her relationship status was up in the air. She was already torn between two guys when we met, and she wasn’t in a good place. I settled for being her friend, and I never even told her I was falling for her. Good thing too, because she picked one of the guys drooling over her. Tracy and her husband just had their first kid together, and they’re happy as can be.

Damn, my life is so fucking pathetic. In a few days, I’ll be 33. I’ve proposed to many, many girls in my life, but I never got close to marrying anyone. I’m alone. I’m starting to think I might never find a girl who can deal with all my crap, and who will actually love me for me. I really thought Franny was it. And then I thought Dora was the one. I never was delusional enough to believe Tracy would ever go for me, but I still fell for her. And now… now I am truly single, and I’m not holding a candle for any of my exes or crushes anymore.

I’m just a 32-year-old cop without a love life.

When I turn right on the intersection, I spot a sign I haven’t seen before. Piece of Cake Bakery. Huh. I didn’t know there was a bakery on this block. There is even an empty parking spot across the street. It must be faith. I parallel park like a boss – one of my many talents – and jump out of the car, crossing the street on a jog and pushing open the door of the store.

“Good morning!” a chipper voice says, belonging to a girl a few years younger than me, with long brown hair. She’s curvy, maybe even a little overweight, judging from what I can see with the counter between us, and she’s wearing a pink apron with the logo of the store on it.

“Morning.” I tip my hat to her, strolling up to the counter. “I didn’t know there was a bakery on this block.”

“I’m fairly new to the neighborhood,” she replies with a sweet smile.

“The place is yours?” I ask, glancing around. It’s cute and quaint, like stepping into a Hallmark movie. Cheesy, but perfect for a bakery. “Nice.”

“Thanks. What can I get you, officer…?”

“Tyson,” I supply. “Officer James Tyson. At your service, ma’am.” I don a thick southern accent just for the hell of it, making her laugh.

“Okay, let me guess, officer Tyson, you need donuts?” When I nod, she laughs even harder. “Really? You’re kidding, right? You’re a cop getting donuts at 7 in the morning? Could you possibly be more of a stereotype?”

I fight a smile, giving her a fake glare instead.

“Okay, donuts.” She’s not fazed by my angry look at all. I don’t think she’s buying it anyway, so I allow my smile to break through. “How many?”

“Twenty.”

“Cop’s retirement party?” she asks.

“Are you a baker or a psychic?”

“Who says I can’t be both?” She motions for me to move to the other side of the counter, where the donuts are on show. “What kind?”

They all look utterly delicious, but I already know I won’t be having any of them. You don’t have muscles like mine if you don’t eat healthy and work out at least five times a week. I didn’t one day wake up magically looking like this. It takes hard work. Not that I got into boxing or running for the looks, to be fair. I started working out when my sister died, because it was the only thing that made me feel in control.

“Just give me twenty, you can pick what kinds.”

The girl shakes her head. “Come on, what do you like? What are you in the mood for?”

I check my watch, grunting when I see the time. Yeah, finding this place saved me some time since I don’t have to drive across town now, but if this girl keeps yapping at me, I’m still gonna be late. “I don’t eat donuts.”

“Yeah, well, me neither,” she replies.

“But you sell them.”

“And make them, yes, but I don’t eat them. You’re the one buying them even though you don’t like them. I think that’s weirder. At least when I make them and sell them, it pays the bills. Why would you buy something you don’t even like?”

She sure is a chatterbox.

“Cop’s retirement party,” I remind her. “And who said I don’t like them? All I said was that I don’t eat them.”

“Allergies?” she asks, sizing me up. “Or just a health freak?”

“Can I just get twenty donuts, please?” I haven’t had a coffee yet – I’m not such a health freak that I don’t drink coffee. I am very much a caffeine addict. It doesn’t help that this place smells like sugary goodness and freshly brewed coffee. There is a fancy coffee machine in the corner, with a half-empty cup next to it. Hers, I guess. “And a coffee,” I add. “To go. Black.”

“Ah, is that why you’re grumpy?” she asks knowingly while she busies herself with my order. “I get it. I need my morning cup of coffee or I’m worthless. I’m on my second one right now.” She puts the box of donuts and my coffee to go on the counter, and tells me the price. While I pay, she takes another donut and puts it on a napkin, handing it to me when I put my wallet back in my pocket.

“I don’t eat donuts,” I tell her again. She’s making me feel like a jerk.

“Why?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Why don’t you?” I shoot back.

“I’m celiac.” She laughs at my confused expression. “It means I am intolerant to just about half of the ingredients in that donut. No, more than half, actually. I’m intolerant to gluten, my body isn’t too fond of lactose either, and I can’t eat nuts, and-” She cuts herself off, laughing. “Sorry, oversharing. Let’s just say I have a very good reason for not eating donuts. Do you?”

I gesture to my body. “Does the excuse my body is a temple sound good enough for you?”

“Oh, but I bet your body is the kind of temple that demands sugary sacrifices. If I was a goddess with my own temple, I’d have people bring me donuts all the time. Come on…” She looks down at the donut, then back up at me. “You know you want to…”

Oh what the hell, why not? I take a bite, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me. Fuck, that’s good. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been eating so healthy lately, but I think it’s more than that. These are just exceptionally good donuts.

“Okay, yeah, I think I’d want donut sacrifices too, if I was a god,” I admit with my mouth full. “Damn.”

She is beaming with pride now. “Thank you. Best donuts in the city, if I may say so myself. Best bread rolls too. Best cakes. Best… everything.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that.” I’m already halfway through that damn donut I didn’t even want, and I know I will finish the rest of it in the car. Fuck. I’ll just have to hit the gym again tonight. No biggie. I tell the baker girl goodbye and take the box of donuts and my coffee back to my car. I’ll be a little late for work, but I don’t think anyone will complain when they taste these donuts.

***

“No,” I tell Elijah for the millionth time that day.

“Come on, Tyson, you’ve been single for too long already. Let me set you up with someone.” He bites into the donut he snagged from the box this morning and stored away to have for lunch. His girlfriend packed him a salad again, and Elijah is not too fond of veggies.

“I’m not going on another blind date with one of Delilah’s friends,” I tell him sternly. “Stop trying, Reed.”

“Come on… I’ve got the perfect candidate for your next crush,” he begs. “Or your next fuck, at least. How long has it been, Tyson?”

“Too long,” I grunt, not happy to admit it.

Lucky for me, we’re interrupted by a call about a fight in the local park, so I turn on the lights and siren, speeding off in the opposite direction we were going in. As always, Elijah and I jump right back into work mode instead of bickering about blind dates. Half an hour later, we’ve got a drunk guy who was trying to stab someone in the back of our car, heading back to the station. Never a dull day, am I right?

Of course, Elijah starts pestering me again when we’re filling out forms at the station. “Come on, Tyson, let me set you up. Please. I beg of you. I really think you’ll like this girl.”

“I can find my own dates, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah, when was the last time you actually went on one?” William asks, walking in as well. He’s on desk duty today, the one job we all hate the most. We all take turns manning the front desk, because our boss thinks it’s important all cops are both hands-on and well-versed in bureaucratic nonsense. Fucking fantastic.

“Shut up, Moore.”

“Right back at you, Tyson.”

Elijah sighs dramatically. “I was hoping to get you loved up before having to tell you this but… I proposed to Delilah last night.”

That brings me right out of my funk. “You proposed? Dude, why didn’t you say anything sooner? That is awesome!”

“Well, assuming she said yes,” William comments dryly.

“Of course she said yes.” Elijah is grinning from ear to ear. “She cried and everything. It was pretty awesome.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were planning to propose?” William asks, slapping him on the back. “You robbed us of freaking you out about the possibility of her saying no.”

“It was spur of the moment, I don’t even have a ring yet. We were just having dinner at home, and she was talking about her day at work, some cat that threw up or something, and I just thought…” Elijah shrugs. “I don’t even know, man. I just realized that if I even find her cat puke stories interesting, then I definitely need to marry that woman as soon as possible.”

That is the weirdest reason to propose ever, but it’s totally something Elijah would do.

“Well, Tyson, looks like you’re the last single guy still standing,” William teases.

He’s right, I realize. Elijah is engaged now, William married Ginny a year ago, Flint and Sophia have been married for ages, and Dean and Lizzy have four kids already.

“Well… not to make you even more depressed…” William looks a little unsure now. “And not to outshine Elijah with his cat puke proposal without a ring, but I’ve got some news too.”

“Ginny is pregnant,” Elijah guesses right away. “Oh man, that is amazing! How far along is she?”

“Thirteen weeks. She told me this morning I can start telling people. After last time…” He grimaces, and I slap him on the back in support. Last time, he told us after only eight weeks, and Ginny had a miscarriage. It was hard on both of them, so I’m glad she’s further along now.

“Everything okay?” Elijah checks.

“Yeah, the ultrasound looked good last week.” William sighs happily. “She’s starting to show. Fuck, I hope nothing goes wrong this time. I really want to meet that baby.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I assure him. “She’s already in the second trimester.”

“Yeah…” He shakes his head. “I’m gonna be a dad. Fucking hell. Although I think Elijah getting married is actually bigger news than me having a kid with Ginny. You guys knew we’ve been trying, but I had no idea Reed here wanted to walk down the aisle.”

“Me neither, but inspiration struck.” Elijah laughs. “So, Tyson, are you up to be my best man or what?”

“Of course!” I pull him in for a hug, slapping his back as hard as I can. He’s my best friend, so it makes sense he’s asking me, but I somehow wasn’t expecting it. Like William said, Elijah isn’t someone who believes rings and vows are important. I didn’t think him and Delilah would go the traditional route.

“Oh Lord, this means the maid of honor is Tracy Packard, right?” William chuckles. “She’s probably gonna throw Delilah a bachelorette party at a sex club or something. She is insane.

He’s not wrong there. Tracy and her husband are a little… edgy.

“She’s pregnant, though,” I remind him.

“Yeah, but her due date is in a week or so.” Elijah wiggles his eyebrows. “William is right, once she’s done doing… well, doing whatever women do when they have a kid, she’ll definitely throw Dee the bachelorette party of the century. Which means you have to plan a wicked bachelor party for me, James. I want booze, strippers, boob glitter all over my face, the whole shebang.”

“You should have picked me as your best man,” William complains. “I’m so much better at that stuff than Tyson.”

“You can help,” I promise right away. Hell, I can use all the help I can get. Strippers and boob glitter? Not really my cup of tea.


***

Want to read this chapter from Liv's POV? Look for her book on my profile! It's called "Officer Tyson - Liv's POV - Bonus material".

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