Peter Nguyen has achieved everything he ever wanted. So why isn’t he happier? He goes to his high school reunion to show up all the people who didn’t give the time of day to the skinny, nerdy boy he’d been. But then he runs into his old friend Britt.
She can barely pay her bills.
Brittanica Jones watched her future evaporate when she had to leave college after a brutal attack left her mother incapacitated. She hasn’t done anything she set out to do, and the only reason she even goes to her high school reunion is to reconnect with her old friend Peter . . . even though he ghosted her back when she needed him most.
They’ve got nothing in common…except each other.
When Peter sees Britt again, he realizes how much he misses her. Her acerbic quick wit and “take no shit” attitude are a welcome change from people who fawn all over him. When he realizes that he’s got the means to help her out, he offers her a temporary job.
However, grown-up Britt inspires sexy thoughts, not friendship thoughts. Their relationship deepens into a romance. Britt’s downtrodden heart blossoms with the opportunity to work with Peter and explore their changed relationship. But this interlude has an end date, and when disaster strikes, she’s got no choice but to leave.
Can these old high school friends overcome the hurts from the past and find love with each other?
“Your assistant buys your groceries?” Britt countered.
“Yes,” he said defensively.
“You’re too good to hit the local Safeway?” She shook her head. “Man, we live in different worlds.”
That didn’t sound like a compliment.
“It frees up my time.” He felt compelled to defend the practice.
Britt tugged open his fridge, making herself at home. “Whatever.”
He loved that about her. No hesitation. The birds rippled in response as her muscles moved. He desperately wanted to lick his way along the path of those swallows.
Then he noticed her stillness.
“You have Dom Perignon in here.”
“Ah, I guess.” Pete couldn’t decipher the note in her voice. “Is that a problem?”
“It’s insanely expensive.”
“Okay?”
“I could feed my mother and myself for a week on what that bottle costs,” she said wistfully.
“Well, then, let’s open it.”
“You’re supposed to drink it to celebrate something momentous.”
He didn’t give a rat’s ass about momentous. Besides, she was looking at the bottle longingly. “You like champagne?”
“I love it, but I don’t have it very often.” She laughed but it was a sad sound. “That’s a lie. I never have it.”
Then he was going to change that. He pulled the green bottle out of the fridge.
She gripped his arm, the touch burning through his shirt. “You can’t open that,” she cried.
“Yes, I can.” He popped the cork before she could object.
“Oh my God. Don’t let it spill.” She grabbed the bottle and caught the bubbles cascading out the top with her tongue. “Mmm.” She closed her eyes and pursed her lips, making sure none of it was wasted.
The look of bliss on her face propelled him forward, unable to stop the impulses clanging through him.
He kissed her.
The moment her mouth met his, angels began to sing. She tasted of the tartness of white grapes and fermentation. He wanted to delve further into her mouth and taste her. He cupped her jaw in his hand, his fingers tunneling into the loose collection of curls at her nape, and he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone.
Britt’s eyes drifted closed.
He rubbed his nose along hers and plundered her mouth, holding her in place as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. The champagne bottle thumped against his back, and a little of the cool liquid spilled between his shoulder blades.
He slid his arm around her waist and tugged her closer, her breasts snug against his chest. The full skirt of her dress pouffed around him as he tested and tasted, trying to figure out what she liked.
What made her moan. What made her soften against him. She’d gone all-in on the kiss.
He didn’t want to pressure her. But the kiss was off-the-charts hot. His brain had definitely moved from wanting the kiss to wanting more.
He pulled away to give her a moment.
And maybe him too. To assess the attraction. After all, this was Britt. His old friend. And yet…not.
“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly.
“I wanted to capture that treasure.”
“Very pirate-like of you,” she teased.
He took the bottle from her hand.
“Open your mouth,” he commanded. “Tilt your head.”
She blinked at his authoritarian tone, but she complied.
He poured a shot of champagne into her mouth.
She swallowed and moaned. “So good.”
The look of bliss on her face made him want to be the one who caused that reaction rather than the champagne.
Then she said, “But it’s meant to be sipped.”
“Life is meant to be swallowed whole and gorged upon.”
“Good point.” She took the bottle from him, took another swig, and then placed it on his quartz countertop. Then she hoisted herself onto the counter and spread her legs. The move put her breasts level with his mouth. Her fancy ballgown flared out as she grabbed him by the waist and pulled him to her.
“What are you doing?”
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him again. “Gorging.”
His smooth fingertips traced the line of her dress over her breasts, dipping his finger into her cleavage. His fingertips sizzled at the sensual contact.
Britt arched her back.
Pete pulled away from her mouth and trailed a line of kisses over her chin and down her neck until he buried his face in the plump valley of her breasts. She clutched his head to her.
“You taste amazing.”
“It’s the Dom.”
He licked a path over her skin. She shivered at the light caress. His arms reached around to unzip her dress. “It’s you.”
USA Today Bestselling Author Lisa Hughey has been writing romance since the fourth grade, which was also about the time she began her love affair with spies. Harriet and Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys later gave way to James Bond and Lara Croft and Jason Bourne.
Exploring the complex nature of a profession that requires subterfuge and lies fascinates her. She loves combining her two passions into fiction. As evidenced by her Black Cipher Files series.
Archangel Rafe was her first foray into the paranormal but after spending time in the Angelic Realm, it won’t be her last. At their heart, the Seven novels are about the dynamics of family relationships. But the really hot Archangels don’t hurt.
And recently she’s been immersed in the Stone Family novellas, four stories about a blended family of brothers and sister who have a lot more in common than they realize. But of course she couldn’t just write about family and romance. There are complex plots, bad guys, and suspense too.
Lisa loves to hear from readers and has various places you can connect with her, although, shh, Twitter is her favorite.
Title: We Have Till Monday Author: Cara Dee Genre: Contemporary LGBTQ+ Romance
When it seemed like everyone around Anthony Fender was reaching a goal or falling in love, he blamed an early midlife crisis for throwing him far outside of his comfort zone. Nashville was a long way from New York and his everyday life that’d lost all color lately.
Hopefully, this vacation would reenergize him, and maybe a cooking class with celebrity chef August King could end Anthony’s reign as the only Italian in Brooklyn who couldn’t boil water. But when he met August and his much younger husband Camden, every plan and all rational thought flew out the window. Their dynamic grabbed hold of Anthony and reeled him in before he even heard the magic word.
Taking a swig of my beer, I returned to my notifications to see if there was anything else. A couple new followers, one of whom was a student. I didn’t recognize the other follower, not the username or the profile photo. I clicked on the profile and felt my eyebrows crawl up toward my hairline.
Definitely a random NSFW user. I didn’t follow those. My account was essentially the official account for the Initiative, and God forbid a student checked out who I followed.
I scrolled down a little, because why not, and shifted in my seat. Someone was into kink. Gay kink, to boot. I had two friends who were into this too. By day, Greg and Moshe worked in accounting and education, and they raised two children together. When they had babysitters, Greg was a Daddy Dom who called Moshe his little boy.
All the photos on this account were black-and-white, not to mention heavily shadowed. Both sexy and beautiful. One hinted at a man kneeling in front of another, and he had his cheek resting against the dominant man’s thigh. Without revealing any details or features, the picture had peacefulness written all over it.
Must be a nice feeling.
Oh, hands. I clicked on a photo displaying two hands, one gripping the wrist of the other, and I squinted at a small tattoo. Hadn’t I seen that before? I assumed it was the submissive guy who had his wrist in someone’s hold, and he had a small snake that slithered up along the side of his thumb. I was sure I’d seen it before.
I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.
There’s a world to build, characters to develop, interests to create, and a topic or two to research thoroughly.
Every book is a challenge for me, an opportunity to learn something new, and a puzzle to piece together. I want my characters to come to life, and the only way I know to do that is to give them substance—passions, history, goals, quirks, and strong opinions—and to let them evolve.
I want my men and women to be relatable. That means allowing room for everyday problems and, for lack of a better word, flaws. My characters will never be perfect.
Wait…this was supposed to be about me, not my writing.
I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.
The Lion’s Den club was better than I ever imagined and my worst nightmares, all combined.
I thought I was going to explore my darkest fantasies. Gain a better understanding of myself and discover what I’d been missing in life.
Instead, I made a deal with the devil.
I had hoped I wouldn’t see anyone I knew at the club. Coming face-to-face with Filip De Luca was a worst-case scenario.
Filip was effortless power seething beneath a playboy exterior. A host of sharp edges disguised behind a cavalier grin. Inescapably alluring and devastatingly dangerous.
He promised he wouldn’t tell my father about seeing me at the club. I had his blessing to dip my toes into the dark waters of deviancy.
The catch? Filip would guide me on this journey. He would control every aspect of my exploration. Set every boundary and command my obedience to his rules.
I thought I could live with his terms. Gain the experience I wanted from a partner I could trust.
What a naïve fool I’d been to think our bargain could ever be so simple.
He nodded and motioned to the elevator. When his hand grazed my lower back, I stiffened. His touch was too seductive to be allowed. Not when I had more pressing matters to delve into. I would not allow lust to break down my resolve. Nothing would come between me and what I had to say.
I charged past the main room, not taking notice of the activities within. I had one purpose, one directive, and I wasn’t interested in distractions. When the door to his room closed behind us, a swell of words and emotions wedged a knot in my throat. I wasn’t the crying type. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shed a tear, yet my nose began to sting with the telltale signs.
I took a deep, steadying breath before meeting Filip’s wary gaze. “How dare you blacklist me from another club.” My words were unsteady but still laced with venom. “You had no right.”
His eyes narrowed to angry slits. “You went to another club without even trying to talk through this with me first?”
“I don’t owe you anything. If I want to join another club, that’s my choice. My life.” I jabbed a finger at my chest, my voice growing stronger.
“I was trying to keep you safe, Camilla.”
“You were trying to control me!” I shouted back.
Filip charged, pinning me against the wall. His shallow breaths came unevenly through parted lips. The jagged flint in his eyes sparked as his gaze bore relentlessly deep into my soul. “I’ve always been perfectly honest with you about my need for control. I never pretended to be a saint, and I certainly didn’t give you the impression I was some kind of fucking Boy Scout. I do whatever is needed to protect what I value. My family. My home. You. Not to mention the fact that we made an agreement, and under the terms of our agreement, every inch of this body is mine. I’m not letting another man anywhere near you.”
“You don’t own me,” I hissed back, shoving my hands hard against his chest.
Filip clamped his hands around my wrists and subdued my assault with ease. “No, I don’t own you, but I do have a responsibility to protect you. You won’t always like my methods, but at least I know I’ve done my job.”
“It was a simple arrangement! It wasn’t like we signed in blood or something, which was evident since you’ve changed the terms. And besides, it sounds like this is more about you than me. It’s your duty that’s important to you, your ability to control those around you, and not my actual safety that’s so critical.”
His nostrils flared, and I got the sense I’d struck a nerve.
He took in three even breaths before delivering a devastating defense. “My mother was killed when I was only five,” he deadpanned in a hollow voice. “I spent the next half a decade being tossed from one relative to the next with zero stability in my life or control over what happened to me. I don’t just have a need for control; I can’t survive without it. When I feel the things that mean the most to me slipping from my control, I become crazed, and I can’t think straight. You, more than anything else, cause me to lose my fucking mind.”
Award-winning author of contemporary and fantasy romance. With Jill’s books, you can count on confident heroines, plenty of steamy tension, and deliciously assertive leading men. There are no guarantees in life, but with her books, you know everything will work out in the end. However, a perfect ending would not be nearly as satisfying without a seemingly insurmountable challenge. Jill loves to add plenty of adversity in her stories, creating unforgettably dynamic characters and sneaky plot twists you will never see coming.
