Showing posts with label Prologue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prologue. Show all posts

Monday, December 4, 2017

Pre-Order Blitz + Prologue - EVEREST by S.L. Scott


Title: Everest
Author: S.L. Scott
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Romantic Suspense
Release Date: December 7, 2017



Cover Design: RBA Designs
Cover Image: Scott Hoover Photography


SYNOPSIS


From New York Times Bestselling Author, S.L. Scott, comes a ROMANTIC SUSPENSE STANDALONE that will have you on the edge of your seat and swooning over this ALPHA BILLIONAIRE.

Six foot three. Dynamic green eyes. Utterly irresistible.

Ethan Everest stole my breath the first time I saw him. He romanced me with skill, dazzled me with his charisma, and proceeded to steal my heart right after.

I might have fallen for his easy going smile the first time we met, but I fell for him the second time.

Honey-colored hair. Cherry-kissed lips. Captivatingly gorgeous.

Singer Davis was the first, and only, woman te the only thing that made sense in a world that made none.
 o ever intimidate me. She spoke to my heart with her wit, seduced me with her eyes, and becam
I let her slip through my fingers once. I won’t make that mistake twice.

Secrets broke us apart. Can a second chance bring us back together?



AVAILABLE NOW FOR PRE-ORDER







 Add to Goodreads: http://bit.ly/EverestGR



PROLOGUE

Ethan Everest

Every female here has eyed me up and down, even the ones with boyfriends. They don’t even try to hide it. They want me to see. They want me to know I can have them if I want them.
Except her. Blue dress. Red lips. Hair the color of a golden sunset in winter.
Several girls made themselves more than available. I was offered a fast fuck in the bathroom within fifteen minutes of arriving. Fantasies may be taking over, but there’s only one woman who catches my eyes—the demure beauty sitting on the couch.
I want to stare at her.
She’ll see me though.
I want to sit next to her.
There are no more spots on the small futon.
I want to talk to her.
What do I say when she makes all the blood rush from my brain and shoot straight to my dick? Damn, I want her.
She’s given me no reason to think of her naked beneath me. No indication that I should have dirty thoughts about those delectable lips. Absolutely no sign that I could have the pleasure of stroking her bare back while I take her from behind.
Fuck. Me.
While images of her cloud my thoughts, I’m not sure I have a shot in hell of even taking up a minute of her time, much less a night. Nope, not one clue if I have a chance with this beauty.
I’ll take the risk, something I’m adept at doing. More often than not I win in the end. She won’t be an easy target, but nothing worth having ever is. I’m determined to find out if her tongue is as seductive as her eyes.
Although she brings out my instinctive side, this is not about sex and passing time. It’s about spending time with someone who challenges my mind while turning on my body.
Nudging the guy who lives here, I signal across the room and ask, “What’s her name?”
“Who?” He follows my gaze. “The hottie on the couch?”
Heart-shaped face, flawless skin, ample tits, hourglass shape at her waist. She’s not built like a girl who doesn’t eat. She’s shaped like a woman I want to meet. “Yeah.”
“Dariya Rostavik. She’s fucking hot.” He pats my shoulder. “And single. If my girlfriend wasn’t here, I’d be all over that.”
“Cuz you’re an asshole.” Her name, Dariya, rolls around my mouth, spikey instead of rolling off the tongue naturally. The name doesn’t fit her.
“Pretty much.” He laughs. “You gonna hit it, Everest?”
“I don’t know.” I feign interest to him, lying to get his eyes off her. “Fuck, they scored again.” My diversion works, and his attention is back on the big screen.
The truth is, I don’t know if I’m going to hookup with her. I’ve caught her looking at me when she thinks I don’t notice. But is she looking at me the way I’m looking at her?
Was I busted moving closer when she was talking to her friend? Did she see me eavesdropping to hear her voice? Did she notice when I joined a conversation behind her to be closer? Or that I stepped out of the way of the fridge when she wanted a bottle of water?
I never get shot down by women. I’ve lived on easy street when it comes to my looks and, from what I’m told, my personality, attracting the most attractive. Something tells me I might be rejected by her.
She’s not like the other girls here. Nothing about her fits in this environment—a party with a bunch of guys getting drunk while watching sports and yelling at the TV and girls dragged here by their boyfriends or convinced by their friends to stop by.
She’s an innocent among sycophants. Everyone wants something from me, except her. Sexy and smart—speaks right to my heart.
I catch her eyes on me again. This time I stare back until she looks away with a pretty pink coloring her cheeks.
This game with her is much more interesting than the one on TV. I follow her with my eyes as she gets up and joins a group by the window. She seems to know the other girl, but not so much the two guys.
Good, I inwardly growl.
Keith hits me in the chest. “Who do you have your eyes on?”
“The woman by the window.”
My best friend shakes his head. “No. Check out eleven o’clock. She’s a model from Romania. Hot as fuck.”
“Not interested. I want more than a fuck.”
“I’m sorry. Have we met?” His sarcasm is as annoying as he’s been lately at the office.
“I’m for real.”
“So am I.”
I exhale and shoot him a glare. “I really am. I can fuck anyone. I want to spend time with someone who interests me.”
“You’re working too much. You’re so caught up in your head lately you’re missing what life is really about.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I indulge him. “And what is life really about?”
“Doing everything in your power to get it while the gettin’s good.”
“Are we talking about business or women?”
“Both.”
The model is hot, but I feel like I’ve been there done that. I don’t care what he wants. He can have shallow, meaningless relationships. They’re more hassle than they’re worth.
Glancing toward the woman outside, an ease comes over me, releasing some of the pent-up pressure that’s been expanding lately. “You go for the model. I’ll go for Dariya.”
“Dariya?” I’m knocked on the arm, and he points toward the couch. “That’s Dariya, man.”
“The model?”
“Yeah,” he says, laughing.
Thank fuck I didn’t go outside and call the beauty by the wrong name. “I’ll be back.” I grab two cans and head toward the window. I stop briefly by the group she was talking to prior, but they’re buried deep into a conversation about American consumerism. I’m not interested in their philosophical views on finances. The only thing I’m interested in is the pretty woman sitting alone outside. The woman excuses herself and I ask, “Hey, you guys know her name?”
They look outside. “Singer.”
“She’s a singer?”
“No,” he says, chuckling. “Her name is Singer. Singer Davis. She came here with her friend, Melanie, who just left.”
I don’t hear most of what he says because I’m stuck on the woman with the red lips. Singer. Singer Davis. “Thanks.”
Singer’s been sitting on that fire escape by herself long enough to not feel like I’m invading her space, like she’s taken over my thoughts. I seize the moment and climb out.
This is where our story begins . . .







ABOUT S.L. SCOTT



Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She's obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she's a pro.


AUTHOR LINKS


The Scott Scoop: http://bit.ly/2TheScoop
Huffington Post Contributor Page: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sl-scott/
S.L. Scott FB Reader Group: http://www.facebook.com/groups/slscottbooks
S.L. Scott GR Reader Group: http://bit.ly/SLScottGRGroup

Monday, August 14, 2017

Release Blitz + Excerpt - ROYALLY ENDOWED by Emma Chase

   


Logan St. James is a smoldering, sexy beast. Sure, he can be a little broody at times—but Ellie Hammond’s willing to overlook that. Because, have you seen him??

Sexy. As. Hell.

And Ellie’s perky enough for both of them.

For years, she’s had a crush on the intense, protective royal security guard—but she doesn’t think he ever saw her, not really.

To Logan, Ellie was just part of the job—a relative of the royal family he’d sworn to protect. Now, at 22 years old and fresh out of college, she’s determined to put aside her X-rated dreams of pat-downs and pillow talk, and find a real life happily ever after.

The Queen of Wessco encourages Ellie to follow in her sister’s footsteps and settle down with a prince of her own. Or a duke, a marquis…a viscount would also do nicely.

But in the pursuit of a fairy tale ending, Ellie learns that the sweetest crushes can be the hardest to let go. *** Logan St. James grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, in a family on the wrong side of the law. But these days, he covers his tattoos and scars with a respectable suit. He’s handsome, loyal, brave, skilled with his hands and…other body parts.

Any woman would be proud to bring him home to her family.

But there’s only one woman he wants.

For years he’s watched over her, protected her, held her hair back when she was sick, taught her how to throw a punch, and spot a liar.

He dreams of her. Would lay down his life for her.

But beautiful Ellie Hammond’s off-limits.

Everybody knows the bodyguard rules: Never lose focus, never let them out of your sight, and never, ever fall in love.

 

AMAZON | AMAZON UK | AMAZON AU | iBooks | B&N



         

Prologue

Logan



Some men think with their cocks.
You know the type. Quick smooth-talkers, shifty eyes always scanning for a nice pair of legs, a set of full tits, or a tight arse they can pant after.
Other blokes think too much with their brains. You know that type too. Annoyingly careful, slow-moving, constantly parsing their words like they already know whatever they’re saying is going to come back and take a bite out of them.
I’m not either of those.
I always go with my gut. When it clenches with a warning, I act—no hesitation. When it tugs and nudges, I pause and reevaluate. When it twists and writhes, I know, guaranteed, I’ve cocked up big-time.
My gut is my best friend, my conscience, my most lethal asset.
And it has never let me down.
It’s my gut that drags me to her door. That roots me in place as I knock. That gives me the words—pleading, unfamiliar remorseful words—I’ll gladly say to make this right.
To get her back.
Because while my gut is brilliant, sometimes I can be a real fucking idiot.
Yesterday was one of those times.
“Ellie. It’s me—open up, we need to talk.”
I sense movement on the other side of the solid oak door—not in sounds or shifting shadows beneath it, but more of an awareness. I can feel her in there. Nearby and listening.  
“Go away, Logan.”
Her voice is tight, higher-pitched than usual. Upset.
“Ellie, please. I was a twat, I know . . .” I’m not keen on begging from the hallway, but if that’s what it takes . . .  “I’m sorry. Let me in.”
Ellie is difficult to anger, quick to forgive; she just doesn’t have it in her to hold a grudge. So her next words fall like an axe—cutting my legs right off from under me.
“No, you were right. The princess’s sister and the East Amboy bodyguard don’t make sense—we’ll never last.”
Did I actually say that to her? What the fuck is wrong with me? What I feel for her is the one thing in my life that makes sense. That matters.
But I never told her that.
Instead . . . instead, I said all the wrong things. 
I brace my palm against the smooth wood, leaning forward, wanting to be as near to her as possible. “Elle . . .”
“I’ve changed my mind, Logan.”
If a corpse could speak, it would sound exactly like my Ellie does now. Flat, lifeless.  
“I want the fairy tale. I want what Olivia has . . . castles and carriages . . . and you’ll never be able to give me that. I would just be settling for you. You’ll never be able to make me happy.”
She doesn’t mean that. They’re my words—the insecurities I put on her—that she’s hurling back in my face.  
But God, it fucking hurts to hear. Physically hurts—stabbing deep into the pit of my stomach, crushing my chest, grinding my bones. I meant it when I said I would die for her . . . and right now, it feels like I am. 
I grab the doorknob to walk inside, to see her face. To see that she doesn’t mean it.
“Ellie—”
“Don’t come in!” she screeches like I’ve never heard her before. “I don’t want to see you! Go away, Logan. We’re done—just go!”
I breathe hard—that’s what you do when pain wrecks you, breathe through it. Then I swallow bile, straighten up, turn around and walk down the hall. Away from her. Just like she wants, like she asked. Like she screamed.
My brain tells me to move faster—get the hell out of there, cut my losses and lick my wounds. And my heart—Christ—that poor bastard’s too battered and bloody to say anything at all.
But then, just over halfway down the hall, my steps slow until I stop completely. 
Because my gut . . . it strains through the hurt. Rebels. It shouts that this isn’t right. This isn’t her. Something’s off. 
And even more than that . . . something is very, very wrong.
I glance up and down the quiet hall—not a guard or a maid in sight. I look back at the door. Closed and silent and still.
Then I turn and march straight back to it. I don’t knock, or wait, or ask for permission. In one move, I turn the knob and step inside.
What I see there stops me cold. 
Because whatever I was expecting, it sure as fuck wasn’t this.
Not at all . . .


       



About the Author

 

Emma Chase is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the hot and hilarious Tangled series and The Legal Briefs series. Emma lives in New Jersey with her husband, two children and two naughty (but really cute) dogs. She has a long-standing love/hate relationship with caffeine.


Wednesday, December 3, 2014

COVER REVEAL + PROLOGUE + GIVEAWAY: VERY TWISTED THINGS (Briarcrest Academy #3) by Ilsa Madden-Mills

VERY TWISTED THINGS
Series: Briarcrest Academy #3 (all novels are standalones)
Release Date: February 2015
Cover Model: Drew Leighty
Genre: Hot New Adult for 18+


   
A sassy violinist who lives next door. An obsessed rock star who watches her through binoculars. And one night when she bares it all. Life will never be the same in Tinseltown.


Description:

Vital Rejects front guy Sebastian Tate never imagined his YouTube music video would go viral, sky-rocketing him to acting success in Hollywood. Okay, maybe he did. After all, he’s a cocky dude who knows he’s hot-as-hell, and it was only a matter of time before his stars aligned.

But life in Tinseltown is never what it seems.

After being cheated on, his only rule to falling in love is simple: Keep Calm and Don’t Do It. Spying on his mysterious new neighbor with binoculars seems innocent enough, but quickly escalates into an erotic game between two very unlikely people.

Twenty-year-old Violet St. Lyons is a world-renowned violinist who's lost her mojo on stage. She hides away in a Hollywood mansion, trying to find her way through her twisted past in order to make her future.

He’s the life of the party with girls chasing him down for his autograph. She’s the introvert with a potty mouth who doesn’t even know who he is.

When they meet, stars collide, sparks fly, and clothes come off. Yet, giving his heart to a girl isn’t Sebastian’s plan; falling for a guy who craves attention isn’t Violet’s.

Welcome to Briarcrest Academy—Hollywood style—where sometimes the best things in life are VERY TWISTED THINGS.


Heart Compact



         ADD TO GOODREADS


VTT Prologue 




Then he came along, and like a twisted piece of metal that’s burned beyond recognition, I emerged from the fire. Different. Changed.” –from the journal of Violet St. Lyons
 This wasn’t happening.
 Clad in a pair of red lacy bikini underwear—his favorite—I sipped on tequila—not my favorite—and glared at Sebastian Tate, sexy rock star and billboard model. Wearing low-slung jeans and nothing else, he paced around my chair in tight circles, his tall frame blocking most of my vision, the lion tattoo on his back heaving as he took deep breaths. Blonde and sporting faint stubble on his chiseled jawline, he looked like the heartbreaker the tabloids said he was.
Bad, bad boy.
But, oh, so good.
 He sent me a hard look. Pissed.
From my living room in the Hollywood Hills, I gazed out the window at the Santa Monica Mountains, my eyes everywhere except on the glossy nude photos he clutched in his hand.
Of me. Of him.
 Of us.
 He swiveled his ice-blue eyes at me. Earlier today they’d burned with another kind of fire, but things change fast in Tinseltown. “These will be in the papers. Get ready,” he said, tossing down the pictures on the table, making me cringe.
I gazed down at them, my eyes lingering over one of us on my patio, him on his knees with his mouth between my legs as my body arched in ecstasy. My skin burned at the memory, echoes of the passion we’d shared—and now everyone in the world would see. My family. The society people in New York. The board of directors for the orphanage. My stomach heaved at the thought, bile threatening to rise up.
Another caught my eye, this one a full color close-up of me crying black mascara tears as I played my violin. Nude. It looked depressing as hell although in truth it had been love that made me emotional.
 “Remind me to pass on the make-up next time. And to not have sex outdoors. Obviously,” I said, forcing my shoulders to move in a nonchalant shrug like I didn’t care, but he knew the truth. I was devastated by these.
And so was he.
Because we weren’t supposed to be together.
He said my name in that husky voice of his, the one that made me crazy, the one that made me want to rip his clothes off. “Violet—”
“Stop,” I said, clenching my fists. Because whatever he had to say didn’t matter. These pictures ruined us, ensuring that he’d leave me for her, the beautiful Bubble named Blair. Bubble, bubble, bubble. I wanted to pop her.
Why did I always come last with him?
I stood and faced him, tossing back the last of my shot. “First off, I wish we’d never met.” I held my hand up. “No. Wait. I don’t wish that because then I wouldn’t know Spider or Mila. I—I wish I’d never fallen in love with you. Loving means losing. Always. And I was stupid to forget it. I may have to sell this house and move to another freaking country to get away from you, but I’ll do it. I’ve done it before.” I sucked in a breath. “I’ll be fine without you.”
Lie. I would likely end up drunk on Mexican tequila, nursing what was left of my heart.
He closed his eyes, a dazed expression on his face as if my words crushed him.
“We were doomed from the very start,” I reminded him. “You want to be a star, and all I want is you.”
He stopped his pacing, a muscle jerking in his cheek as he leaned down until his nose was level with mine. “Then this is goodbye, Violet? You’re giving up on us already?”
Did I hear a break in his voice? Impossible.
“If I don’t say goodbye first, then someone else will.” Truth.
He’d never be mine, simply because he didn’t belong with me. I was a washed-up freak who had nothing but a mansion and a Maserati; he belonged on the silver screen with a pretty starlet on his arm.
We were over. Kaput.
I smiled, a bitter thing, and sashayed past him, enjoying the hiss of breath when I let my hand drift over his crotch. “This moment is begging for a soundtrack, don’t you think?” I said, coming to stop by the stereo system and cranking up Kurt Kobain’s Smells Like Teen Spirit. Holding my hands up in the horns rocking out signal, I bobbed my head to the beat while he watched, anger flickering across his face. I danced and twirled around, closing my eyes, the music vibrating through my body, my fingers itching for my violin.
Bam!
My eyes flew open. He’d strode over to me and clicked the stereo off, chest still heaving.
He shoved his hands in my hair and dragged my face to his, and I groaned at the fire that blazed in my body. I felt the warm heat of his skin and pressed closer and inhaled. He smelled like bourbon and sex—a rock star’s diet—and I panted, cursing myself at the same time.
How would I ever get over him?
He pressed his thumbs across my mouth. Gentle. But his voice was cold. “You can’t wait to high-tail it back to Manhattan to your lawyer boyfriend, can you?”
“I plead the fifth,” I said, staring at his full lips. I licked my own. “But you can kiss me goodbye if you want. I don’t mind.”
We stared at each other until he exhaled heavily and put his back to me, his muscles as taut as the guitar strings he played. He verged on breaking.
Yeah, well, welcome to my world.
Yet at the same time, I reached my hand out to him. Stupid hand.
But of course, he didn’t see it.
“So long, V,” he said soft as a whisper, staring at the ground as if I was breaking his heart, when all along it was the other way around. He took a step from me, then another, then another, until finally, he was nothing but a speck.
I clutched my chest and wanted to fall to the ground and rail on it. Alone. Again.
But tough girls like me didn’t cry over black-hearted boys.
Although in his defense, I owed him a thank you for saving me.
To show you, I’d have to start at the beginning, the day I lost everything.
© Ilsa Madden-Mills, NYT and USA Today bestselling author
--Unedited and may change before publication



Available Now on Amazon









Author Bio

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills writes about strong heroines and sexy alpha males that sometimes you just want to slap.

She spends her days with two small kids, one neurotic cat, and one husband. She collects magnets and rarely cooks except to bake her own pretzels.

When she's not crafting a story, you can find her drinking too much Diet Coke, jamming out to Pink, or checking on her carefully maintained chocolate stash.

She loves to hear from readers and fellow authors.


Receive a FREE Briarcrest Academy novella ($2.99 value) plus get insider info and exclusive giveaways!


Want to join her BA Street Team on Facebook? Click here to message Ilsa Madden-Mills






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VERY TWISTED GIVEAWAY



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Friday, November 28, 2014

BLOG TOUR: ARC REVIEW + GIVEAWAY - All I Want (Alabama Summer #2) by J. Daniels




Title: All I Want
Series: Alabama Summer #2
Author: J Daniels
 Release Date: November 24, 2014


Synopsis


Luke Evans is a heartbreaker.

I didn’t want to give mine to him. Not when he kept me out.

He gave me enough, just enough to make me fall in love with him. I say this to convince myself. But I know the truth.

I would’ve fallen in love with him at a distance.

Handing my heart over to Luke was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I was naive when I wished for more, when I hoped he wanted the same things I did.

I try to hate him. I try to forget him.

But it’s not that easy. 

Love is a ruthless bitch, and I’m her latest victim.





Tessa Kelly is a man-eater.

When she sets her sights on you, she doesn’t just consume your heart, she goes for your soul.

What we had was perfect, real, and all I would ever want.

But she destroyed it.

She destroyed us.

I try to hate her. I try to forget her.

But it’s not that easy.

Love is for people who have hope, and I have none.







Links to Buy







Also Available


#1 Where I Belong






Review

This book definitely had me on an emotional rollercoaster. J. Daniels not only delivers some funny moments with that mouth on Tessa but also some heartaches and of course some sexy. 

Tessa is feisty and I love her attitude and personality. There were times were I just wanted to reach in my kindle and smack her upside the head and maybe slap some sense into her. 

Luke is broody and controlling and such a damn typical male who would rather be miserable then open up about his feelings. But that doesn't take away from his oh so sexiness!! 

I love the character development and the overall flow of the story. You get sucked right in from the very beginning and get all the feels. I laughed, cried and moan a bit. Luke just has that way about him with just the words that come out of his mouth.

This was yet another great story from J. Daniels and I would recommend reading this. I will impatiently be waiting for more from these characters and to get Reed's story next.

**ARC received in exchange for an honest review






Prologue

Two months ago
No.
No.
No.
Jesus. Fuck, no.
There are absolutely zero good-looking men at this thing. Besides Reed, who disappeared an hour ago with some giggly brunette, and the man I refuse to acknowledge. Weddings are supposed to be a breeding ground for nameless hook-ups, and I’m shit out of luck at this one. So instead of getting drilled in a concealed corner somewhere, my dress bunched around my waist as a stranger becomes familiar with my sounds, I’m having to find other ways to pass the time.
Eat cake.
Hit up the open bar.
Eat more cake.
Dance with Nolan.
Get cake with Nolan.
Steal Mia away from Ben.
Watch Mia get carried off by Ben.
And now this.
Sitting at an empty table, watching as Ben, Mia, and Nolan all slow dance together. Nolan’s in between them, rubbing Mia’s growing baby bump, while Ben can’t seem to keep his eyes off his new wife. I’m crazy happy for them, but right now, I can’t watch them share another perfect family moment in front of me. I need a break from this. Just a few minutes to get some air.
I step out of the tent and head across the lawn toward the Estate House. I’m walking aimlessly, not having any destination in mind. I just need to get away from all the love for a second. Love is great when you’re with someone. It’s better when it’s reciprocated. But it fucking sucks when that shit is one-sided.
And that’s the only way I’ve known it.
I walk down the side of the building and turn right to go around the back. As soon as I round the corner, I see him.
He’s leaning against the building behind some shrubs, head back, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. His sandy-brown hair is cut shorter than normal, almost buzzed completely, and it does really annoying things to his face. Like show it off more. Those ridiculously gorgeous features of his are on display for my eyes right now, and I don’t have to avert my gaze because he doesn’t know I’m watching. He has no idea I’m staring at his sharp, angular cheekbones, the fullness of his mouth, or the bump at the bridge of his nose that I see as this perfect imperfection.
God, I fucking love that bump.
His face tenses as his arms move to the front of his body, and I let my eyes roam to the reason for this change.
The blonde I recognize from the wedding is on her knees with his cock lodged in her mouth, deep throating it until she gags. His hands are in her hair, encouraging her, pulling her closer until she practically swallows him whole. I lift my eyes to that face I was just secretly admiring seconds ago. It’s no longer tempting me to keep my presence unknown. Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to let this shit happen right now.
Fuck him, and his face.
I step in front of the bush and make a fist, clearing my throat into it. Luke’s eyes shoot open and he grabs the blonde’s head, sliding her off his cock. She releases it with a pop and a grunt of disappointment. Apparently, she isn’t finished. But she looks pretty fucking finished to me.
Luke tucks himself away quickly. “What the fuck, Tessa? What are you doing?”
I look from him to the blonde. “Oh, sweetie. You might want to go disinfect. He’s got the herp.”
Slutty blonde parts her lips as if she’s waiting for another cock. She stands and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, glaring in Luke’s direction. “Oh my God. Are you serious? You have herpes?”
Luke’s wide eyes train on mine. “What? No I don’t!”
“He’s really sweet about it though,” I say, looking sympathetically at the blonde. “He pays for my Valtrex every month.” I turn my eyes to Luke, letting out a swooning sigh. “So romantic.”
Blonde shoves against Luke’s chest. “You’re disgusting.”
“I don’t have fucking herpes!” Luke adamantly vows as he tightens his belt.
I watch, basking in my victory as blonde trudges through the grass, getting her heel caught in the process. She stumbles a bit, glares at Luke over her shoulder, and disappears around the corner.
“I can’t fucking believe you just did that,” Luke says, prompting me to whip my head around to look at him. He buttons his suit jacket up and steps closer. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
You.
What happened between us.
And the fact that you’ve obviously moved on without any difficulty.
I close the gap and he freezes, his hand flattening against his jacket. My gaze flicks from his crotch to his face, and I mask all the hurt of seeing this asshole with another woman behind the fakest smile I’ve ever worn.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. You, on the other hand, might want to go to the clinic. If you didn’t have an STD before that whore touched you, I’m sure you have one now.”
I turn and storm away before he can give me a comeback. But more importantly, before he can see the smile fading from my lips.






Author Bio

J. Daniels was born and raised in Maryland.

After putting her kids to bed, she escapes into her cheeky world where some of her characters kiss, and some of them do a lot more than kiss.

She is an avid reader and enjoys everything from unconventional romance to fantasy novels.
 


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