“Have you ever read a romance novel, boobarella?”
Her smile turns into a scowl from my nickname, making me chuckle. “Don’t call me that.”
“Answer the question, have you?”
“Not really. Does reading the first chapter of The Notebook count?”
The Notebook, God, what a classic. I’m pretty sure almost everyone has read that book. I’m one of those guys who likes to read the book before the movie comes out so I can bitch about the book being way better later on. The book is always better . . . always.
But that Noah Calhoun, now there is a true romantic. He’s got his shit under control and knows how to woo a woman. If only the male race would all strive to be like him, we might have less violence and more orgasms.
“The Notebook counts. I love that book, but you need to read more than the first chapter.”
“You’ve read it?”
I nod and give her my best shy smile. “You would be hard-pressed to find a mainstream romance book I haven’t read. I’m also very much into the indie scene.”
“I had no idea men read romance novels.”
I wink at her. “The smart ones do.”
“Okay,” she shifts in her lounger, looking like she’s about to challenge me, “tell me why you like reading romance novels.”
“Easy.” I lean forward and say, “It’s a brief glimpse into the woman’s psyche. For the most part, romance novels are written by women, which is clutch for us men, because we are able to take these fantasies of being fucked up against a wall, or fingered under the table at dinner, or eaten out on the counter of the kitchen and turn them into a reality.”
She slowly gulps. If I wasn’t paying attention, I wouldn’t have seen it, but it’s obvious with that little movement in her throat that my words have affected her.
“I’m a pleaser, Melony. I’m a woo-er. I’m a romantic who knows how to fuck you senseless.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Her eyes search mine. Because I have a long list of things I want to do to you, you fucking gorgeous woman. Kiss her senseless at the end of each day; lather her up in the shower and worship every part of her body; finger her beautiful pussy to the point she screams my name; wake her up in the morning with my mouth between her thighs, or my lips wrapped around her tits. Yeah. I’ve thought about what I want to do to her, but if I keep thinking all these things I won’t be able to walk away from my lounge chair.
I stand up, gathering my items and then glance down at her. “Because, sooner or later, I will be fucking you up against a wall, fingering you under the dinner table, and eating that sweet pussy of yours on the kitchen counter. Mark my fucking words, Melony, I am going to woo you so hard, you won’t know what hit you.”
With a parting wink, I leave her with her mouth agape and a confused look on her face.
My job here is done.
Cover Designer: Murphy Rae
Reese King: Olympic medalist, underwear model, Greek god.
His body is chiseled from rock, sculpted by the weight room, and refined by water.
On a daily basis his skin is completely bare for everyone to see, tan and defined, only covered up by a minuscule piece of spandex. There is no denying his sex appeal.
I hate to admit it, but I’m head over heels infatuated with him.
There is one HUGE problem though. His achingly gorgeous abs, inked up arm, and cocky swagger belong to my boss, the high-profile, reality star bitch from hell and certified heinous human being, Bellini Chambers.
What I think is going to be an easy job assisting a glorified wench turns into a cluster f*ck of epic proportions.
Cover Designed by: Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/2bMRByM
**STROKED LONG can be read as a stand alone.
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