by Dana Delamar
HER TWO MEN IN LONDON
When three isn’t a crowd…
It was only supposed to be a vacation fling during a writers’ retreat to England and Scotland. So why does being with him—with them—feel so right?
PAIGE
My work and my daughter are my life. I agreed to a vacation fling with one man—and now there are two! Things are getting far too complicated…
RILEY
I lost hard at the game of love, and now I don’t even want to play. I just want to have fun, but there’s something about him—and her—that’s calling to me…
CARTER
My relationship with my ex-wife gave me PTSD. I’ve found the man I want—but he wants us to have a girlfriend too. I’m not sure I can do that, even for him…
THE TOTAL INDULGENCE SERIES
Her Two Men in London (Book One)
Her Two Men in Tahiti (Book Two) – coming 2018
Her Two Men in Sonoma (Book Three) – coming 2018
HER TWO MEN IN LONDON
Total Indulgence, Book 1
Dana Delamar
and
Kristine Cayne
Copyright © 2018 Three Orcas Press LLC
Excerpt from Her Two Men in Tahiti copyright © 2018 Three Orcas Press LLC
All rights reserved.
ISBN (print): 1-949071-01-4
ISBN-13 (print): 978-1-949071-01-6
ISBN (ebook): 1-949071-00-6
ISBN-13 (ebook): 978-1-949071-00-9
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Artwork – © 2018 L.J. Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations
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Cover photo: © The Killion Group Inc.
Series logo design © 2018 L.J. Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations
Dana Delamar author image courtesy of LGImages
Ebook formatting by LK Ebook Formatting Service
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Editing, proofreading, and print formatting:
By Your Side Self-Publishing
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
A SPECIAL PREVIEW OF HER TWO MEN IN TAHITI
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ALSO BY DANA DELAMAR AND KRISTINE CAYNE
Chapter 1
RILEY
Sometimes I couldn’t believe it had all started with a blow job. The blow job that had gotten me fired, put me on the front page of my hometown newspaper, and eventually led to my writing a blockbuster erotic romance series that had sold to Hollywood and made me a millionaire.
A millionaire who was close to broke and was probably going to have to declare bankruptcy. Because I couldn’t seem to write about blow jobs, or any other kind of sex, anymore.
I could try to blame her, Amber Rose McCallan, the girl who’d given me the blow job in my office when she’d been a nineteen-year-old co-ed and I’d been a twenty-six-year-old college professor who should have known better. But that would be taking the easy way out. It wasn’t Amber’s fault, not entirely.
Yes, Amber, the inspiration behind my best-selling trilogy, “The Temptation of Amber Rose,” had left me eight months ago for Holden Wilder, the actor playing me in the movies. And she’d pranced off with a big fat check after suing me for palimony.
But I was the idiot who’d lied to my publisher, Exotica Press, who had me under contract. A seven-figure contract, with a mid-six-figure advance on my next book.
The book I’d supposedly been writing during the last six months.
The book I hadn’t even started. Because I couldn’t.
The book I was supposed to deliver to my editor today.
And now here I was, standing outside Exotica, about to face my doom.
Rubbing at the ache in my chest, I pushed through the etched glass doors of Exotica’s Brooklyn office and strode up to the receptionist. I’d barely opened my mouth before she shoved a copy of my first book, Amber Falls, at me along with a pen. “Oh my God, it’s you!” she squealed. “Riley Kendrick!”
I almost laughed. The girl was a pretty blonde with curly hair. I picked up the pen she’d shoved at me. “Who should I make this out to?”
She pointed to the tag on her chest, practically poking my eyes out with her double D’s. “Jenna.”
My dick should have perked up at the sight, but it merely yawned. Yep, I’d had my hands on more than enough fake boobs in Hollywood. I began signing the book. “You’re new here.”
“Started this week.”
Normally I’d have flirted with her, but no more delays. I pulled in a deep breath, trying to slow my quickening pulse. “Can you tell Nora Delaney I’m here?”
“Oh yes. Gosh! Sorry! I just don’t meet celebrities every day.”
I handed the book back to her as she buzzed my editor. It was nice being recognized by fans, but I wished now that I’d used a pen name so I could pretend it was all happening to someone else.
Someone whose face hadn’t been plastered all over every tabloid, gossip website, and entertainment news TV show.
Someone who could fucking write, rain or shine. Heartbreak or joy. Hell or heaven.
But I wasn’t that person.
Instead of a book draft, all I had on me was an empty USB drive. And a belly full of nerves. If Nora demanded that I return the advance, I’d be screwed. Good and hard, with no lube, fuck you very much.
I’d spent it. Every dime. Well, most of it had ended up in Amber’s pocket, actually.
She got to swan around Hollywood and act injured.
I got to be injured, and wander the streets of the quiet Vermont neighborhood I’d grown up in. Probably where I’d die too, like my parents, whose old house I was living in.
When you had it all and lost it all at twenty-eight, where did you go from there?
Nora sauntered out of her office, her reading glasses perched atop the tight bun on her head. Her strand of pearls and sweater set looked like something out of the 50s, except with a modern twist, and it was a look she pulled off well. Sexy Librarian. Probably my favorite look after Sex-Starved Co-Ed.
If I coaxed Nora into bending over her desk so I could give her something she wouldn’t forget, would she forgive me for arriving empty-handed?
Probably not, but the fucking might be fun.
Until she kneed me in the balls.
Nora greeted me with a big smile. “So good to see you, Riley.” She gave me a loose hug and an air kiss on both cheeks. “Coffee, tea, water?”
“Sorry I’m late. Tea will be fine.”
Nora nodded to Jenna, who practically jumped out of her chair.
I followed Nora into her office, accepted a steaming mug from Jenna, and contemplated what to say. Not that I hadn’t rehearsed it a million times already. I could tell her I’d started the book, but that was only technically true.
I’d started dozens of new books and tossed them all out.
“So,” Nora said, eyeing me as I blew on my tea. “Is it done?”
I took a sip to delay the inevitable. Then I set my cup on the edge of her desk and crossed my legs, taking hold of the ankle lying on my right knee as if it were a lifeline.
Somehow I met her expectant gaze. I swallowed hard. Honesty was the best policy, right? “Nora, I’ve tried. I really have. It’s all shit. Everything I write is shit.”
A crease developed between her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “But you have something? I’m sure it’s not shit, Riley. You’re just worried that it won’t be a big success.”
I shook my head slowly. “While that’s true, that’s not the problem.”
Nora clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “Then what is the problem?”
I slumped back in the chair, unable to hold her eyes any longer. A lump crowded my throat, and when I opened my mouth to speak, the words seemed stuck, unwilling to spill forth. Taking a deep breath, I prayed my voice would be steady, but the damn thing cracked when I finally forced the truth out.
“I can’t write without her.”
Nora said nothing for a minute. When she finally smiled, it was tight. “So you’re telling me you’re Austin Powers and Amber has stolen your mojo?”
I couldn’t help a weak laugh, then when I saw she wasn’t smiling, I sobered and spread my hands. “I’ve got nothing. Not a word.”
Nora crossed her arms and sat back. “You’re not doing this to me, Riley. You’re not.”
I hated making her worry. “I’m afraid I am. My muse has left me.”
“Your muse took up residence in Amber’s pussy? Is that it? Because if not, you still have everything it takes to be Riley Kendrick.”
I groaned. “I’ve come to hate that name.”
“Well, you’re stuck with it.” Nora gave me a considering look. “So you need a new muse, is that it?”
“Or something. The Amber books just poured out. Now the words won’t come.”
Nora pulled her reading glasses off her head and played with them. “I assume you’ve seen the papers.” She said the words softly, but they were a blow nevertheless. A reminder. “They’re engaged.”
“Yes.” A year ago, three Hollywood studios had been in a bidding war for the rights to the trilogy. Amber and I had been the toast of the town—partying with the who’s who of the silver screen, living a life neither of us had ever imagined. A life full of late nights, drugs, booze, and sex—more sex than we could handle.
Apparently.
I’d always had an open mind about sex—nothing was off the books. When Amber wanted to have a threesome with Holden Wilder, the handsome actor cast in the lead role of Riley, I hadn’t objected. As long as I was a part of it, I’d said yes to anything and everything Amber wanted. And truth be told, I’d fallen for Holden too.
Hook, line, and big fat sinker. I had been on top of the world; I’d had it bad for both of them.
But Amber and Holden were with each other now, and they didn’t need me.
No one did.
Except for Exotica. They needed me to write their next big hit.
And then there was Carter Templeton, the guy I’d been fucking these last three months. But fucking was all it was. Right?
That’s all I’d meant to Amber. And Holden.
After a pause, Nora said, “So Amber’s not coming back. And Exotica can’t afford to give you a half-million-dollar advance and not get a book in return.”
“I know.” I rubbed at the stubble on my jaw, the hairs rasping against my skin.
“Can you repay the advance?” Again Nora’s voice was gentle, even though the words eviscerated me.
“Nope.” Too bad the tea I was holding wasn’t something stronger. Something with a sky-high alcohol content. The last time I’d seen Amber, she’d complained that the palimony check was too small. “You owe me, Riley Kendrick,” she’d said, her pretty face flushed a deep pink, her hands shaking. “I made you who you are!”
I didn’t disagree. My obsession with Amber had upended my life—gotten me fired from my first teaching job and launched my new career.
And left me heartbroken in the end.
Nora leaned forward, her eyes locked on mine. “Then what’s it going to take to get you writing again?”
“I need a new muse.”
“What you need is to get out of the damn house more often. You need a change of scenery.”
I scrubbed both hands through my hair, then nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
“Or maybe I need to sign up for Tinder.”
Nora made a face. “Look, if all you need is some inspiration, I’m sure Jenna could help in that department.”
I laughed. “She’s cute.”
“She adores you. How about that dynamic for a change?”
“Being the object of someone’s desire? Hmm…”
Could work. Except I didn’t want the endless moaning when we broke up. Jenna looked like she could pull off Sexy Stalker in a heartbeat.
And then there was Carter to consider. We’d done a number of threesomes with women, but we’d never discussed adding a third to whatever we had. Which we also hadn’t defined.
Which was how I wanted it. No strings, no attachments. No way to be hurt.
“Did you have someone in mind?” Nora asked.
“No. No one and nothing has inspired me. The only thing I’ve liked in months is Outlander.”
“So write Scottish Highland historicals. Just keep them sexy.”
“I know fuck-all about Scotland.”
“Then go. Write it off as research, but go.” She rummaged around her desk, picking up papers, then setting them down before extracting something from a pile. “Or do this.” She pressed a red brochure in my hand.
Romance Writers’ Jolly Old England Writing Retreat
Want to explore England and Scotland from a local point of view?
Need more settings for your historical romance? We’ll show you plenty!
Stuck? We’ll get you going again.
Need inspiration? We’ll get you fired up!
Could something like this work? The pictures looked inviting. Was I really cut out to write historicals though?
“I don’t know, Nora.”
“You’ve got to do something.”
“True.” There were certainly worse ways to spend my time. Such as cooped up in my house sniffing Amber’s clothes and hoping she’d come running back to me. That wasn’t going to happen. Not now. Not ever.
And it really wasn’t fair to Carter. I had to get out of this funk. And then maybe I could figure out if we actually had something, or if it was just sex.
Maybe Nora was right, and a trip was exactly what I needed to clear my head and jump-start the words again. I met her eyes. “I’ll do it. How long can you give me to turn in a draft?”
“Three months.”
I looked at the brochure. The trip started in three days and ended two days before the press junket for the first movie. Maybe the stars were aligning.
Now I just had to hope my muse would come back. Amber had taken so much from me, but Nora was right. I was Riley fucking Kendrick.
Fuck Amber, and fuck her magic pussy. I could write without her.
I had to.
PAIGE
I’d already ended the call, but I couldn’t
seem to put down the phone. Looking around at the travel posters in my office at Total Indulgence Tours, I shook my head and swore. “Shit!” This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.
My boss, Arianna Rodriguez, poked her head into my office, her eyebrows raised. “What’s up? The Paige Sutherland I know doesn’t swear unless the world’s coming to an end.”
Finally releasing the receiver, I slowly turned to face Ari. “Sara fell walking down the stairs from her apartment. She’s got a broken leg. There’s no way she’s going to be able to guide the Jolly Old England romance writing retreat.”
Arianna frowned. “That does merit a ‘shit’ then.”
“Do we have anyone who can take it?” I pressed a hand to my stomach, my mind adding up the consequences if we had to cancel the tour at the last minute.
Arianna tapped a French-manicured finger against her lips, then shook her head. “We could try looking for a sub, but with less than two days, I don’t see how we’ll find someone.”
“I just filled the last slot too.” And it was a male writer. One with a deep, velvety voice that made me wonder what he looked like.
With a clap of her hands, Arianna’s expression lightened. “You, chica! You could do it. You put the whole thing together. You know all the contacts. And you could definitely use a vacation.”
“Guiding a tour isn’t a vacation.”
“For you, it would be. You never go anywhere. And that’s kind of ridiculous, considering where you work.” Arianna perched her perky butt on my desk. “Maybe you’ll meet a hot Englishman. Or maybe a Scot.” Arianna fanned her cheeks. “Wouldn’t you love that brogue purring in your ears?”
I rolled my eyes. Yeah. That was so not going to happen. What hunky Scot would want a thirty-seven-year-old single mom whose daughter had Down syndrome?
Not that I could leave Emma alone anyway. “I can’t, Ari. And you know why.”
