Author: S.L. Scott
Genre: Contemporary Romance/Romantic Suspense
Release Date: December 7, 2017
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 to ever intimidate me. She spoke to my heart with her wit, seduced me with her eyes, and became the only thing that made sense in a world that made none.
I let her slip through my fingers once. I wonât make that mistake twice.
Secrets broke us apart. Can a second chance bring us back together?
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AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU
Every female here has eyed me up and down, even the ones with boyfriends. They donât 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 thereâs only one woman who catches my eyesâthe demure beauty sitting on the couch.
I want to stare at her.
Sheâll 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.
Sheâs 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.
While images of her cloud my thoughts, Iâm 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.
Iâll take the risk, something Iâm adept at doing. More often than not I win in the end. She wonât be an easy target, but nothing worth having ever is. Iâm 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. Itâs 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, âWhatâs her name?â
âWho?â He follows my gaze. âThe hottie on the couch?â
Heart-shaped face, flawless skin, ample tits, hourglass shape at her waist. Sheâs not built like a girl who doesnât eat. Sheâs shaped like a woman I want to meet. âYeah.â
âDariya Rostavik. Sheâs fucking hot.â He pats my shoulder. âAnd single. If my girlfriend wasnât here, Iâd be all over that.â
âCuz youâre an asshole.â Her name, Dariya, rolls around my mouth, spikey instead of rolling off the tongue naturally. The name doesnât fit her.
âPretty much.â He laughs. âYou gonna hit it, Everest?â
âI donât know.â I feign interest to him, lying to get his eyes off her. âFuck, they scored again.â My diversion works, and his attention is back on the big screen.
The truth is, I donât know if Iâm going to hookup with her. Iâve caught her looking at me when she thinks I donât notice. But is she looking at me the way Iâm 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. Iâve lived on easy street when it comes to my looks and, from what Iâm told, my personality, attracting the most attractive. Something tells me I might be rejected by her.
Sheâs not like the other girls here. Nothing about her fits in this environmentâa 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.
Sheâs an innocent among sycophants. Everyone wants something from me, except her. Sexy and smartâspeaks 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. âWho do you have your eyes on?â
âThe woman by the window.â
My best friend shakes his head. âNo. Check out eleven oâclock. Sheâs a model from Romania. Hot as fuck.â
âNot interested. I want more than a fuck.â
âIâm sorry. Have we met?â His sarcasm is as annoying as heâs been lately at the office.
âIâm for real.â
âSo am I.â
I exhale and shoot him a glare. âI really am. I can fuck anyone. I want to spend time with someone who interests me.â
âYouâre working too much. Youâre so caught up in your head lately youâre missing what life is really about.â
Crossing my arms over my chest, I indulge him. âAnd what is life really about?â
âDoing everything in your power to get it while the gettinâs good.â
âAre we talking about business or women?â
The model is hot, but I feel like Iâve been there done that. I donât care what he wants. He can have shallow, meaningless relationships. Theyâre more hassle than theyâre worth.
Glancing toward the woman outside, an ease comes over me, releasing some of the pent-up pressure thatâs been expanding lately. âYou go for the model. Iâll go for Dariya.â
âDariya?â Iâm knocked on the arm, and he points toward the couch. âThatâs Dariya, man.â
âYeah,â he says, laughing.
Thank fuck I didnât go outside and call the beauty by the wrong name. âIâll be back.â I grab two cans and head toward the window. I stop briefly by the group she was talking to prior, but theyâre buried deep into a conversation about American consumerism. Iâm not interested in their philosophical views on finances. The only thing Iâm interested in is the pretty woman sitting alone outside. The woman excuses herself and I ask, âHey, you guys know her name?â
They look outside. âSinger.â
âSheâs a singer?â
âNo,â he says, chuckling. âHer name is Singer. Singer Davis. She came here with her friend, Melanie, who just left.â
I donât hear most of what he says because Iâm stuck on the woman with the red lips. Singer. Singer Davis. âThanks.â
Singerâs been sitting on that fire escape by herself long enough to not feel like Iâm invading her space, like sheâs taken over my thoughts. I seize the moment and climb out.
This is where our story begins . . .
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.
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