I was only trying to help a friend. I swear. I was legit asking for a friend who was finally ready to date again.
I knew what she wanted in a man -- smart, funny, ambitious, well-read (no, the sports section doesn't count), and plays a wicked game of badminton.
So I did what any good friend would do. Posted it for her. It seemed like a good idea at the time — I’d weed through the candidates, and bring her my top picks.
But then he responded.
Is it wrong to date the guy I screened for my bestie? Not asking for a friend.
After all, I've been damn curious about a few things I've read in romance novels. Do buttons truly go flying across the floor when you rip off a guy's shirt? Is staircase sex hella hot or does it leave you with a big old bruise mark on your back? And don’t even get me started on all that panty shredding, and whether it even works.
Time to find out as I embark on Project Sexy Scenes Research, at the request of my hotshot book editor bestie.
All I need is a willing scene partner. Enter Tristan, my best guy friend. The witty, tell-it-like-it-is, bearded hottie volunteers for the experiment.
He's also the guy who gave me the most devastating, toe-curling kiss of my life ten years ago. But nothing has happened since then.
And nothing will come between my panties and our friendship now since we have a plan to keep it PG.
But once the buttons start flying, all bets are off...
He was flirty and delicious, and we hit it off right away. So well in fact, that I'd have given him my number.
Except, fate decided to play a trick on me.
Since the guy turned out to be my brother's best friend, he was off limits.
So we made a pact to be just friends. And we became great friends.
It worked for a while.
Until the night we were snowed in...
*This prequel story of Jason and Truly was previously included in the original Instant Attraction edition that followed the tales of three different couples. That book is no longer available. However, the story of how Jason and Truly first met has been edited into Delayed Gratification, a story that NOW focuses entirely on that couple. I hope you enjoy this tantalizing introduction to their romance.*
Machines know what’s best, and I’ll rely on the great dating algorithms of the web to find the ideal man, thank you very much.Soon enough, it looks like I’ve found him -- his nickname is Lucky Suit, and he’s hilarious, quick-witted and full of heart.
But when I finally get together with him in person, I have the distinct feeling I’ve met him before.
Turns out there's more to our meeting than I had thought, and when we discover what truly brought us together, all bets are off.
Instead, I'm stuck planning all the holiday parties with the one guy who makes me want to break my dating diet.
Who thought that was a good idea?
Oh, me. Yep, brilliant, strategic me who raised her hand and said yes I’d love to hang mistletoe with that hot former sports star. (Note to self: Mistletoe leads to toe-curling, knee-weakening kisses.)
And I’d love to get snowed in with the one guy I shouldn’t fall for. (Addendum to the note to self: You know exactly where eight inches of snow leads to. Ahem, eight inches.)
As long as I can make it through the holidays I’ll be on my merry way, fa la la la la. But the holidays have a surprise for me.
Bryce Simpson did the only thing he could. He spurned Marjorie Steel. Even though he’ll be living on her ranch, he is determined to stay away from her. She’s worthy of more than he can even think about giving, especially now that long-buried memories are surfacing and he’s learning that his father’s sins may go even deeper than he imagined.
Bryce’s rejection destroys Marjorie, and she descends to a dark place she thought she’d abandoned forever. She emerges stronger, though, and is determined not to let heartbreak rule her life. Change is the answer, she’s sure, so she makes plans—plans that include a handsome personal trainer she meets at the gym.
When Bryce and Marjorie are thrown together, though, their ravenous hunger for each other takes over, leaving both of them more vulnerable than they realize.