Slave To The Rythm By Jane Harvey-Berrick ♥ Prologue Reveal

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Ardent Prose Synopsis

 

DANCE. Guns.

 

MUSIC. Bullets.

 

RHYTHM. Pain.

 

Music in my head, dance in my body, the rhythm of my heart.

 

How far can you fall in just one month? How quickly can the human spirit be broken? Where does evil hide in plain sight?

 

Ash wants to dance. Needs it. To leave behind a life of expectation and duty, to set his soul free.

 

But life is never that simple. Every step is a journey on a new road.

 

For every action, there is a reaction.

 

Every choice has a consequence.

 

And when you meet the wrong person, all bets are off.

 

Laney tolerates her limitations, pushing quietly at boundaries. But when Ash crashes into her world through rage and violence, it sets off a chain reaction that neither of them expected.

 

♫♪ ♫♪ ♫♪ ♫ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♫ ♪♫♪

Ardent Prose Excerpt

 

Prologue

Heat and noise.

The deep bass reverberated through the floor, through the table and chairs, the empty bottles on the table trembling as the music pulsed.

The dry, desert air was humid inside the sealed room, a room that never saw daylight.

The casino was alive 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Men and women with the bloodshot eyes of those who had been at the slot machines for too many hours were replaced with the young and young at heart who wanted to dance the night away, the sweat stains and smudged makeup hidden in the pockets of darkness among the strobing lights.

My friends were on the dance floor, lost in the music, rolling their hips, stroking the air above their heads with languid arms, grinding against each other to the determined, demanding music. I could see the eyes following their movements, the loose jaws, the wet lips.

A part of me envied them—the part that always envied people who could be so free, and if I’d loved them less, envy might have turned to resentment.

The reunion had been planned for eight months, and even though the timing had turned out to be a cosmic joke, I refused to miss out. Despite everything, it was good to see them. Old friends who had seen me at my best and worst.

I stared longingly at the bar, wishing that a Mimosa would materialize in front of me. But none of the scantily dressed waitresses even noticed me sitting by myself.

I was used to being alone. I worked from home and rarely saw the people I called colleagues, and that suited me just fine. But it’s one thing to choose to be by yourself; it’s completely different to be alone in a crowd.

I glanced back to the heaving dance floor, smiling as a cowboy with a large Stetson and no rhythm limbered up behind Vanessa, trying to attract her attention with his awkward but well-meaning gyrations.

My eyes skated away with embarrassment at his lumbering gait, and that’s when my gaze was drawn to another man. And this one caught and held my attention as surely as I caught and held my breath.

He was dressed in black, a snug shirt tucked into dress pants, an easy elegance that made him seem like a thoroughbred among carthorses.

His movements were sinuous with suggestive grace, one fluid action flowing into the next. His hips thrust and rolled, his long legs flexed and straightened, his arms moving rhythmically, fingers extended. He held himself erect, his chin dipping only slightly so his eyes could fix on his much shorter dance partner. Even from this distance I could see that he was focused, like a wild animal stalking his prey. His eyes were feline, too, slanting up slightly at the corners, emphasizing his sharp cheekbones.

His spiky dark hair was gelled at the front, but almost military at the back, showing off his long elegant neck and the broad muscles that writhed beneath his short-sleeved shirt, the shadow of a tattoo peeping out.

He was tall, and the black clothes he wore emphasized his slim silhouette. It was hard to tell his age, his unsmiling face clean shaven and intense, he could have been anything from twenty to thirty.

For a moment, he disappeared into the swirling mass, and I leaned forward to catch another glimpse.

The crowd parted and the illusive dancer reappeared. I saw his partner for the first time: a short, doughy woman with perspiration dripping down her face and too-tight dress.

They didn’t fit, the man and the woman. I sat back in my chair, watching, intrigued.

I suppose I’d spent a lot of time, on the sidelines. Life had made me an observer. So I’d made a study of male beauty in all its forms: the jock, the joker, the emo, the player, the hot and dangerous. I was a connoisseur, you might say, but only from a distance. Perhaps that made me a voyeur.

But this man—he was in a class of his own. I was mesmerized watching the strong, graceful lines he created, the perfect symmetry of his perfect body, his subtle strength and obvious talents. He was beautiful. And that made me sad.

His intense, serious gaze was utterly focused on his partner, and envy bubbled up inside me. I tried to push it away, but I couldn’t drag my eyes from the dancer. He rotated his hips, his body fluent and effortless, always in motion. The thought crossed my mind that if he fucked the way he danced, his partner was in for a night she’d never forget.

But then the woman’s steps faltered, and she edged her way from the dance floor, sucking in lungfuls of air, her fingers sinking into broad hips as she rested her hands.

The man followed, asking a question, and the woman shook her head, half laughing as she nervously backed away from him. When she retreated, he pressed closer, wrapping his long fingers around her wrist, his eyes narrowed.

I leaned forward again, then glanced around, wondering if anyone else had noticed the drama unfolding in front of me.

They seemed to be arguing, and the woman’s sweaty face was red and worried. But then the man held up his hands in surrender, releasing his prey.

I relaxed back into my chair, feeling almost as much relief as the short woman who was retreating in the direction of the bathroom.

The man stood, watching the woman leave, and I was surprised to see frustration on his face. Not disappointment, not annoyance. He wasn’t offended, his ego wasn’t dented. If anything, he seemed angry with himself.

It was odd. Nothing in their behavior hinted that they were close. It looked like a hookup, but why had he chosen someone who was so far below his own league?

It occurred to me that perhaps he was one of those men you read about in Vegas, a gigolo in all but name. It hurt my heart a little to think that such a beautiful man might use his perfect body in such a way. I didn’t want to be disappointed when everything else about him was just so … perfect.

The man ran his hands over his hair as he searched around the room, his eyes ticking off the women he saw, some internal checklist that remained hidden to all but him.

But then his eyes flickered to me, probably because I was still watching him, and a wide smile stretched his full lips. The smile, so totally unblemished from a distance, didn’t reach his eyes, and when he approached me, I was immediately on guard.

“Hi, I’m Ash. Are you by yourself?”

It was hard to be sure over the pounding music, but it sounded as if he had an accent. Something Eastern European, perhaps Russian? Polish?

I gave him a polite but closed smile, a cool smile that hid all warmth, a smile for slow servers and rude cab drivers. A smile for men I didn’t trust.

“No. I’m here with my friends.”

The man looked around him, then shrugged theatrically. “I don’t see them. Would you like to dance?”

And he held out his hand, obviously assuming that I would say yes.

I laughed.

“No, I’m not dancing.”

He frowned, his hand still suspended between us. “But you like to dance?”

I stopped laughing and stared, my gaze sinking into his, puzzled, annoyed.

“What makes you think I like to dance?”

He shrugged again and his hand fell to his side.

“You’re in a nightclub, and you’re not drinking. So you must be here to dance. Please, dance with me.”

He held out his hand again, but I shook my head impatiently. “Then go find someone who will dance with you.”

His eyes widened with surprise, and then he grinned as he leaned on the table, his perfect face inches from mine. “Maybe I want to dance with you.”

“Then you’ll be waiting a long time.”

He cocked his head to one side and I noticed a small beauty spot, shaped like a teardrop beneath his left eye—a perfect imperfection. Up close I could see that he was younger than I’d thought, younger than me perhaps, maybe early twenties. My eyes dropped to his lips and then to his throat. I could see a thin silver chain around his neck.

“I’m a good dancer,” he said, looking almost wounded at my continued refusal.

He wasn’t lying, but my anger, smoldering beneath the surface, ignited.

“I’m not dancing!”

“But everyone comes here to dance,” he insisted, his intense dark eyes so focused, it was unnerving.

“Not me,” I insisted.

He was making me anxious now and I glanced around for my friends.

“You’ll have a good time.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I snapped, losing patience. “Your last friend seemed to enjoy herself immensely.”

A dull red flooded his cheeks and he looked away.

His reaction surprised me. I’d hurt his feelings, but I wasn’t sure why.

“Maybe I’d like to dance with a pretty girl for a change,” he said softly, glancing up at me from beneath long dark lashes.

His intense stare and pleading eyes were hard to resist. Oh, he was good. Calling me ‘pretty’, pretending to be upset that I wouldn’t dance with him. But then I felt a little guilty, too. You can’t fake flushed cheeks. I would have guessed that it was simply the exertion from dancing, but when I met his gaze, his expression was almost desperate.

“You are missing out.”

My mouth tightened and the gates to my sympathy slammed shut.

“Laney, is this guy bothering you?”

I breathed a sigh of relief as Vanessa and Jo strode toward me, their lips pursed, eyes flashing dangerously.

Ash looked nervous, his glance flicking between my friends and the bouncers by the exit. He started backing away, his hands held out from his sides.

“I just asked her to dance, that’s all. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Jo threw him a disbelieving look and stood with her hands on her hips.

“Do you want to go back to your room now?” Vanessa asked.

Suddenly feeling emotional and overwhelmed, I nodded silently as Jo continued to glare.

Vanessa walked behind my chair and handed me the pashmina that had been hanging on the back. Then she unlocked the brakes on my wheelchair and pushed me away from the table.

Ash’s mouth dropped open.

“Still think I’m pretty?” I asked, as my eyes filled with tears.

 

Ardent Prose About The Author

 

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to write. Perhaps it was growing up in a village well known for its mystery and folklore, which sparked my imagination as a child.

I enjoy writing in several different genres, and I’ve just published my first romcom, ‘Dazzled’.

All my books have a little me in them, and I’m inspired by the personal stories of those around me. It’s often from a simple discussion overheard in the train (‘Exposure’), in a café, or in the street, where ideas for characters or scenes come to me.

I fell in love with both Sam (‘The New Samurai’) and the eponymous Sebastian in ‘The Education of Sebastian’ and the sequel ‘The Education of Caroline’, and missed them desperately once I’d finished their stories. I love writing dialogue and always try to include touches of humour in the most poignant stories.

Whether you like adult romance novels, new or young adult writing, thrillers, or fantasy, I hope you’ll enjoy the journey through my stories.

Author Links

Web   Facebook  Twitter    Amazon Page   Goodreads  Instagram

 

Ardent 4

 

 

Blindsight By Adriane Leigh ♥ Prologue Reveal

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Blindsight

 

Pulling Her Trigger Synopsis

Sometimes a single touch is all it takes to spark a wildfire.

Erin Warner learned that the day she bumped into the dashing, tattooed stranger on a busy Chicago street corner. She’s captivated from the moment his mystifying green eyes find hers, and it isn’t long before she finds herself flying to exotic locales to assist him, the award-winning erotic photographer Hunter Ellis, on location. What she didn’t bargain for was the way he makes her blood bubble and churn with lust and thinly-veiled promises of unfathomable erotic pleasure with every click of his camera.

But there is more to Hunter than meets the eye, including the intricately etched tattoos decorating his body that disguise horrific scars from a past he refuses to revisit. As she peels away the layers, Erin realizes that what she thought was true, never really was at all, for both of them.

Now she can only hope that blind adoration for the dashing stranger didn’t sign her death warrant.

The first in a thrilling new erotic serial intended for mature audiences.

Pulling Her Trigger Buy Links
Amazon US   Amazon UK   Amazon CA

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Prologue

My heart pounded in unwavering beats. I stood over him, tears rushing down my cheeks, my eyes unblinking at the slumped form sprawled across the seeping maroon concrete.

“Hunter,” I sobbed and dropped to my knees, the concrete grating the denim, soaking the blood clear through. I didn’t care. All I saw was him, because for the first time since we’d met, I couldn’t feel him.

“Hunter, please, breathe,” I whimpered and dropped my ear to his barely parted lips. The lips I’d pressed to mine tenderly, the lips that had roamed my skin and caressed my body.

“Hunter—” I choked on the words as tears rained down my cheeks, my hands and body trembling so fiercely I couldn’t focus long enough to tell if he was breathing.

I can’t feel him. He’s gone.

“Hunter,” I whispered and tried to still my misfiring heart.

“He’s dead, Erin.” A voice echoed over my shoulder and sent chills racing down my spine. No. NO. “No!” I turned to find empty pits of burnt amber assessing me.

“What did you do?” I shrieked and balled my tiny fists into the hard rock wall of the man towering over me. His hands caught my wrists with ease and halted my assault.

“Don’t fuck with me.” The familiar eyes tore into mine as I hunkered from his imposing force. His grip tightened painfully, ripping a grunt past my lips.

“No,” I moaned, ready to collapse at Hunter’s slouched form. Nothing mattered — the world ceased moving when Hunter’s heart had stopped in his chest.

“Let’s go.” John Walker hauled me from the concrete and carried me through the dark corridors of the warehouse and away from the man who’d promised he’d always protect me.

Pulling Her Trigger Author Bio

Adriane Leigh was born and raised in a snowbank in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and now lives among the sand dunes of the Lake Michigan lakeshore.

She graduated with a Literature degree but never particularly enjoyed reading Shakespeare or Chaucer.

She is married to a tall, dark, and handsome guy, and plays mama to two sweet baby girls. She is a voracious reader and wishes she had more time to knit scarves to keep her warm during the arctic Michigan winters.

Author Links

Twitter  Facebook  Web  Goodreads  Amazon author page

Ardent 4

Hollywood & Vine By Olivia Evans ♥ Teaser Tuesday Prologue Reveal

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Enjoy a look into Hollywood & Vine by Olivia Evans, scheduled for release December 15th. Make sure to add it to your TBR because this is one you don’t want to miss. Enter the giveaway below for a chance to win an ARC copy of this book. Good luck!

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On the second floor of an exclusive restaurant, a private party was in full swing. Music pulsed through the speakers, distorting the scattered conversations with its thumping bass. In the back of the dimly lit room, Josie Bane leaned against the wall. Her gaze flitted around the room, moving over the sea of random faces with amusement. Actors and studio employees slowly meshed, alcohol erasing the line between filthy rich and hired help. The subtle graze of a finger against bare skin here, a sultry smile and lust-filled gaze there.

It was a room filled with one-night stands and morning after regret. Fantasies brought to life by alcohol and loneliness. Josie was the one exception. She had no illusions of a fairytale ending. She wanted one thing from one man. When it was over, she’d walk away without regret. Just like he would.

Josie sipped her drink as the object of her intentions came into view. He stood among a circle of people with relaxed shoulders and an easy smile. With one hand inside his pants pocket and the other holding a glass of champagne, the casual observer might believe him to be completely at ease.

For Josie, however, the predatory gleam in his eyes as he scanned the crowd was unmistakable. In a final move to calm her nerves, Josie finished her champagne and straightened her shoulders. If everything went according to plan, his search would be over soon.

She remembered the first time she had laid eyes on Anders Ellis. He’d strolled past her to the set, his black hair purposely messy, his dark blue eyes full of mischief, and his dimpled grin portraying an innocence he didn’t possess. He was cool confidence and smooth swagger, and his appearance caused the entire crew to fall silent. It was obvious he loved the attention.

Josie disliked him instantly. His good looks and cockiness made her face twist with annoyance whenever she thought of him. His treatment of the crew and cast members was degrading at best. So Josie did what any sane person would: she became an invisible presence. She went great lengths to see that his costumes arrived on time, the material pressed and wrinkle free. Admittedly, it was no small feat. Anders tended to be a little more than high maintenance.

Everything changed the day Josie stood at the back of a closed set while he filmed a sex scene. Her thighs clenched at the memory of how he pushed off the bed after the director yelled cut. How he adjusted the tight cock sock while walking away from his costar still panting on the bed. The way he smirked at the women staring with uncensored lust. She also remembered the sounds coming from his trailer later that day when he and his costar had a private encore performance.

Shame and excitement heated Josie’s skin as she thought about what she had done later that night. She had replayed the scene of him thrusting against his costar as she slid her fingers under the edge of her panties. In this scenario, however, it was her sweat-slicked body being licked, sucked, and pushed over the edge of oblivion.

It was the first of many fantasies starring Anders during the months that followed. Unable to deny her attraction any longer, Josie accepted her desire to make at least one of those fantasies come true.

She glanced at her watch and pulled in a deep breath. It was now or never. Leaving the now empty glass on a table, she smoothed her hair and pushed through the crowd.

On the other side of the room, Anders sipped his drink and checked the time. One more hour and he could leave. The pickings for finding someone to fuck were slim. There were plenty of attractive women around, but he’d slept with most of them and he never went against his motto.

Anders Ellis doesn’t do repeats.

He sighed when the sound of clicking heels approached from his right. He fixed his face with a smile and turned, his eyes widening at the sight of the girl approaching him. Long, light brown sun-kissed hair fell over her shoulders. The neckline of her top dipped between her breasts, revealing the soft swell underneath, and her short skirt showcased legs meant to wrap around his waist.

He had no idea how he had missed her.

“Hi.” Her full lips pulled back into a gorgeous smile. He wanted to see those lips wrapped around his cock as he wrapped his hands her long hair. Her light blue eyes were clear, a sure sign she wasn’t drunk.

“Hey,” he answered, not bothering to hide the way his gaze lingered on her chest.

“I’m Josie,” she offered, extending her hand. She didn’t bother pretending to care about his staring. She wanted him to imagine her naked.

“Anders. But I’m guessing you knew that.” He grinned and shook her hand.

She smiled indulgently. It was no secret that he was a conceited asshole, but she wasn’t interested in stimulating conversation. The stimulation that Josie sought involved very little talking.

“Yes. I worked on set since filming started. Actually, before then.”

His brows lifted in surprise. Again he wondered how he had missed such a sweet piece of ass over the last several months.

“You worked on set? What did you do?” he asked, curious, but not really. He was more interested in knowing so he could keep an eye out for people in her position, in case they all looked as fuckable as her.

“I’m Craig Peters’ Costume Supervisor.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “That’s why I don’t remember you. Wardrobe was the one thing I didn’t have to ride anyone’s ass about.” His eyes dropped lower as his mind lingered on exactly what it would be like to ride her ass. “Pity.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want people thinking you’ve gone soft by letting me slide. You do have a reputation to uphold,” she pointed out with a playful smile, the innuendo unmistakable.

“Baby”―he chuckled, stepping closer―“I assure you there’s nothing soft about me.”

Humming, she pursed her lips and raised her chin, seemingly unconvinced by his declaration. Thankfully he couldn’t hear the way her heart rate spiked when his eyes dropped to her mouth and his tongue swept over his bottom lip.

“What? You don’t believe me?” He cocked his brow, unable to hide his amusement at the idea of anyone doubting his sexual abilities.

Curling her finger, Josie beckoned him closer. When he lowered his head, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear as she spoke. “Maybe you should convince me.”

In less than five minutes, they entered the manager’s office at the back of the restaurant. With his arms around her waist, he pulled her flush against his chest. Their kisses were demanding and rough, their movements frantic as the barriers of clothing fell to the floor.

“This,” he panted, removing her shirt, “has to go.”

He palmed her tit with a firm grip, eliciting a strangled moan from her parted lips. Not one to be outdone, Josie combed her fingers through his jet-black hair, then scraped her nails down his neck.

“Fuck.” He flexed his fingers, groaning as he lowered his head and grazed his teeth over her nipple. “They’re real.”

“Not…something…you see often?” she asked between kisses while unfastening his belt and flicking his pants open.

“Not often enough.” Stepping back to remove his shirt, he took a moment to appreciate the slight flare of her hips, the smooth curve of her waist, and the way her tits moved as she drew in heavy, labored breaths.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?” Josie unzipped her skirt. The material fell to the floor, leaving her in just panties and heels.

Anders pulled a condom from his pocket and tore it open with his teeth, never breaking their stare. Pushing down his boxers, his cock jerked when he stroked it once before sheathing himself.

“Is this what you want, baby?”

Not bothering to look away from what she wanted most, Josie sucked in a ragged breath. Anticipation caused her heart to pound as he stalked across the room. “Yeah, hell yeah.”

Anders’ gaze landed on a tattoo peeking out from the top of her panties. The image of his tongue tracing the outline caused his throat to tighten. “What’s this?” he asked, falling to his knees and pulling the lacy material away for a better view.

“A tattoo.” Her muscles tightened from his touch.

“What is it?” He tugged her panties down and traced his tongue over the outline before nipping at her hipbone.

“Oh God,” she whimpered. “It’s ivy.” Her hips bucked as his tongue, so close to where she ached for him, teased her skin. She squirmed, weaving her fingers into his hair and tugging as he stood, licking and sucking her hot flesh along the way.

He kissed her neck and slid his hand between their bodies. Pressing his palm between her legs, he slipped two fingers inside her. He twisted his hand and rubbed his palm against sensitive and swollen flesh until her legs shook and her nails cut indentations into his shoulders.

With a sexy moan, she stiffened. Her neck arched as the tension in her body exploded and she sagged against the wall with a shuddering sigh.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned, his cock throbbing and rock hard. He grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her body until her legs wrapped around his waist and her back hit the wall with a thud, just like he’d imagined. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“You better not be,” she whispered before nipping his earlobe.

He rubbed himself over her slickened entrance before driving into her in one long, smooth stroke. His eyes rolled back when she clenched around him. There was no kissing, no talking, only panting breaths and low grunts as his hips thrust forward again and again. He slid his hands under her ass and bent his knees, his pants barely staying on as he pulled her away from the wall and dropped her onto him.

“Fuck!” she cried out, her legs tightening around him. Her eyes pinched shut as he tortured her over and over with the most pleasurable pain. A final hard stroke of slapping skin and Anders fell forward, Josie’s back slamming into the wall once more as his hips jerked and he pulsed inside her.

“Jesus,” he gasped. He gripped her painfully, his heart pounding as he rested his forehead against her shoulder and tried to calm his erratic breathing.

Josie hummed in response, her body freshly-fucked limp and her skin flushed from exertion. Anders lowered her to the ground, her legs shaking as she stood.

Smug, he watched her struggle as he rolled off the condom. He pulled up his pants and fastened them, his mind already wandering beyond the room, curious if anyone had noticed his absence.

Josie pulled in a deep breath. Her post-orgasm high mixed with the alcohol she consumed earlier made her sluggish as she crouched to retrieve her clothes. A smile lingered on her lips as she stepped into her skirt. That was so much better than her fantasies. She tugged on her shirt and tried not to inhale the scent of his cologne clinging to the material.

Anders alternated between watching her dress and wondering how soon he could leave without being a complete asshole. Not that he cared; it wasn’t like he planned on asking for her number. What Anders didn’t realize was that Josie expected nothing.

Anders cleared his throat, his expression impassive as Josie lifted her gaze. She would have laughed at the way his demeanor changed from dangerous predator to cornered prey if it wasn’t so pathetic.

“So thanks,” he said with a shrug as he inched toward the door.

Josie smiled. It was saccharine sweet and one hundred percent fake. “It was my pleasure.”

Anders gripped the door handle and checked the time while Josie crossed the room and poured a shot from the bar. She wasn’t interested in an awkward goodbye either. More than anything, she wished he’d be the dick he was and leave already.

“I should go first in case anyone is looking for me.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but his tone gave him away. It held that familiar air of superiority, the one he used on the set when he expected people to do as he said, no questions asked.

“Sure,” Josie nodded, taking a sip of her drink. “I’ll hang back for a few minutes. You’re not the only one with a reputation to uphold.” She moved to the desk and eased herself into the chair, fighting to contain her amusement as Anders watched her with narrowed eyes.

He wasn’t sure what she had up her sleeve, but she was up to something. In his mind, his dismissal should have bothered her. The alternative was that she did this often, which he supposed was possible. Still, he couldn’t help feeling pissed by how unbothered she appeared. So in true Anders Ellis fashion, he acted like a dick.

“Right. You wouldn’t want your next lead actor to know he’ll be following up behind me. It might make him reluctant.”

“Exactly,” she agreed with an even tone and blank expression. “It would be cruel to give the poor guy a complex.”

Anders smirked. She was mocking him. What he said, however, was true: no guy wanted to be compared to Anders. Pulling open the door, he peeked down the hall, relieved to find it empty. He looked back at Josie who was sipping her drink, her expression still mocking. His eyes drifted to the hem of her skirt, taking one last look at her fuck-hot legs.

“Thanks again, Ivy.” He chuckled, slipping out the door and closing it behind him.

“See ya, Anders.”

Downing the rest of her drink, Josie stood and crossed the room. Copying Anders, she peeked down the hall before slipping out of the office. After a brief stop by the ladies’ room, she ventured back into the party.

Anders shifted his weight and shook hands with the director before checking the hallway once more. He tried to ignore the cute blonde next to him who had pounced when he reentered the room. For a moment he wondered if he’d missed Josie when movement to his right caught his attention. She entered the main room, stopping when she reached a pretty redhead. Josie leaned into the girl, eliciting a smile from her before they shared a hug and Josie walked out the front door.

She didn’t look back once.

“You want to grab another drink?” the blonde asked, sucking her lower lip between her teeth. Anders glanced at the door once before turning to the blonde and giving her a smile that was certain to land him a blow job.

“Sure,” he answered, the girl sliding into a cab outside already forgotten.

An hour later, away from the crowd and pulsing music, Josie fell onto her bed. Her mind and body still felt like Jell-O from the combination of top-shelf liquor and mind-blowing wall sex. He was every bit the asshole she’d expected. However, with the memory of flexed abs, strained muscles, and being filled to the point of pain still fresh in her mind, she couldn’t muster the energy to care. It wasn’t like she expected to see him again.

But that was the funny thing about life: it rarely gave a shit about expectations.

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AboutTheAuthorOlivia Evans is a dreamer by day, writer by night. She’s obsessed with music and loves discovering new bands. Traveling the world and watching the sun set in every time zone sounds like heaven to her. A true Gemini, she follows her heart blindly and lives life to the fullest with her husband, son, and friends. Her other loves are: Chuck Taylors, Doc Martens, concert tees, gangster movies, sports, wine, craft beer and her shih tzu’s.

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