One Take Only

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  “Did you hear that?” We fist bumped. “Solidarity.”

  “What a waster!” she shouted again before stopping at Penny as she held up a finger. “You can roll a turd in diamonds, sweetheart, but it will always be a turd.”

  “Yes!” I laughed. “I honestly don’t know what I was doing,” I said. “Momentary brain lapse.”

  “Bloody hell, we were hardly love’s young dream,” Tim said. “Why are you getting so upset?”

  “I’ll tell you why.” I shoved my umbrella under my armpit and set my hands on my hips. “Because I’m officially back on the dating scene.” I closed my eyes and mouthed, Can’t believe it, to the sky. “And that is the most depressing thing about all of this.”

  “Oh,” he said, laughing through his nose. “I’m glad I meant so much to you, Stace.” He put his finger to his mouth. “At Anna’s party, I remember you telling me I was the love of your life.”

  “We’d only just met! I’d had five Jager Bombs and a Bailey’s. It was right after I told my boss” husband that his comb over hairstyle was very distinguished. Just before telling my best friend that it was a travesty that Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again wasn’t nominated for best picture at the Oscars. Meaning, I wasn’t talking sense, for Christ’s sake!”

  “Awful,” the woman said, still hanging around. “Killing off Meryl did it for me. I was out of that cinema before the first bars of ‘Waterloo.’”

  “What are you doing!” Tim shouted at the woman who had taken an active interest, jumping up and down like he was having a child’s tantrum. “Go away!”

  That was it.

  Something, or someone, had saved me from a life of mediocre…again.

  Perhaps it was voodoo or my Nana acting as a guardian angel?

  Whatever it was, my time was up.

  I was ready to walk away while I still had a shred of pride.

  “Tim,” I said, placing my hands on his arms. “You need to reassess your values because…you don’t appear to have any.” I poked my head around him to the still scowling blonde. “It was nice to meet you, Penny. Sorry you got caught up in”—I flicked my finger between Tim and I—“all of this.”

  “Wait. Where are you going?” she asked. “That Hamilton ticket has my name all over it. You can’t take back the offer now.”

  “What?” Tim stuttered.

  “Bye-bye, loser,” Penny said as she wiggled her fingers gracefully. She was manicured and badass.

  “You’re not really going with her, are you?” he asked, his screwed-up face showing his distaste.

  “I know this is totally random,” she said joining me at the bottom of the steps. “But I’ve been trying to get a ticket for weeks.”

  “It is a bit random,” I agreed. “But I don’t like regrets, Penny, and I think I’d go home wishing I’d gone to see Hamilton with…a complete stranger.”

  She laughed and linked her arm in mine, and I found myself smiling because, for a few hours, I could be taken away by laughter, mouth the lyrics to “Satisfied” like I could identify with every word and reenact it with feeling and after, I could eat away my frustration with noodles and gyoza. Yes, I didn’t know anything about this woman. We had a flimsy link at best. I hoped she wasn’t a serial killer or a weird stalker but decided anyway that I needed a distraction before re-joining the abyss of the dating game and wondering where the fudge I would start.

  “That ticket is like gold dust. How much do I owe you?” Penny asked.

  “Buy dinner and we’ll call it even.”

  “Hold on a sec,” she said. “Tim?” He looked completely confused by us, his girlfriend and mistress, arm in arm and on their way to see the hottest show in town. “I forgot something.”

  “What is it?” he asked, perching his hands on his hips.

  “Hold on, let me look for it.” Penny rooted around in her pocket, looking for something. She tipped her head in frustration, sticking out her tongue in concentration, until she pulled out her hand dramatically, held it up, and proceeded to give him the middle finger. “Ah…there it is.”

  It was at this point I realised Penny could absolutely be a serial killer or weird stalker, her behaviour indicated that she could be slightly un-hinged too, but she also seemed…pretty bloody cool.

  Want more? Get One Night Only here!

  Also by Lynsey M. Stewart

  The Music and Letters Series

  When the decisions of her past affect the choices of the future, will Elle be able to find her happy ending?

  Let Me Be Your First

  One regrettable lie drove them down very different paths. One rash decision forced them apart.

  Let Me Be Your Hope

  When opposites attract, there’s bound to be fire.

  Let Me Be Your Truth

  Suspicion can drive you mad. But it can also prove you right.

  Let Me Be Your Last

  * * *

  Stripped Bare

  I couldn’t deny that seeing my ex-boyfriend jiggling his junk in the face of an ecstatic bride-to-be was a complete mind hump.

  I didn’t normally get giddy over strippers, but this wasn’t any ordinary stripper. Ethan was my childhood friend, my teenage crush, the boy that featured in all of my firsts.

  We had made a childhood pact. If we didn’t find the right person to lose our virginity to by the time we reached eighteen we would be each other’s first.

  First kiss, first love…

  First heartbreak.

  We had been apart for three years.

  I had forgotten how glorious he was. I watched him grind his hips to the music, creating a dance with the woman in front of him. But after the rip of Velcro, his thong thrown in my direction, his eyes finally focused…on me.

  Who knew being whiplashed by a sequinned thong would lead to a moment of clarity? It was time to start questioning everything that happened between us until I was left feeling bare.

  Stripped bare.

  * * *

  Sliding Home

  I was flying high with the Florida Falcons until an injury completely changed my life. Playing baseball had been my dream since I was a kid and America couldn’t get enough of the Brit who’d made it to the big leagues. The game was my world, but suddenly I couldn't do it anymore. I was bored. I was frustrated. So I filled the void.

  Sex was an easy answer for a pro ball player with an English accent, and soon my misdemeanours were splashed across the tabloids. Now I was a bad joke, a sleazy internet meme, a washed-up third-baseman who enjoyed playing with women more than playing the game.

  I was given an ultimatum: go home to England and turn things around, or face being dropped. My reputation had been knocked out of the park for the final time. I needed a lifeline.

  And then she showed up. An obstacle in my path struggling with a suitcase.

  Jess tempted me before I’d even left the States. But there was something more. She intrigued me. Could the actress with the knockout smile help turn my life around?

  I offered her a business arrangement she couldn’t refuse. No complications. No distractions. What could possibly go wrong?

  * * *

  A Novel Christmas

  Go to an island, my publisher said. Reclaim your writing mojo, he added. Be inspired, he suggested. Oh, sexy shenanigans, was I inspired. Drew Carolla would do that to a woman. Reclusive and brooding, an ex-pilot-come-sexy-woodcutter-come-luxury-wedding-venue-owner-come…here.

  Writing romance doesn’t come easy when you don’t have a muse, and I was on a deadline. Four weeks to write my next bestseller or face being dropped by my publisher. Thankfully, watching Drew chop wood, sweaty and shirtless, soon had the words flowing like water through Cornish coastline rock pools.

  But Drew had his own stories to tell. Why did his luxury wedding venue no longer host weddings? Why did he scoff at the idea of romance? And why, despite that, did he look at me like he wanted to wake up on Christmas morning and find me naked in his bed?

  Conundrums. Dre
w was full of them. Too bad I wasn’t writing psychological thrillers.

  Would Drew Carolla, a man who didn’t believe in romance, inspire my greatest love story or leave me with unfinished chapters?

  * * *

  Lament

  Dear Grief Fairy,

  I’ve met a man who encompasses grief.

  Alexander Blayren, the brooding cellist.

  The man I crave.

  He’s rude, bold and brash, but I see what’s underneath.

  A man crying out.

  Surviving for the sake of his daughter. Just.

  Alexander didn’t believe you could survive grief. Loss had painted his life black, dimming the lights and quietening the music.

  But I didn’t agree.

  When I lost my family, dance was my therapy. Movement, my recovery.

  Could music be his?

  Would his notes be a reprieve; the strings, his lifeline?

  Or could his journey to survival begin with me?

  Through the body he studies as I dance, my cries of pleasure under his fingertips, or his arousal at my willing restraint?

  Grief Fairy, you understand me better than anyone. Can I relieve Alexander’s lament?

  Yours,

  Nat

  One Night Only

  What if you met the right man at the wrong time?

  Stacey

  He’s a male escort.

  As in, he has sex for a living.

  As in, my hard limit.

  I’m supposed to be writing an article about him, not falling for him.

  But something about Matthew Shaw makes me want to suppress that hard limit.

  He’s smart, funny, and too beautiful for his own good.

  But he makes his money through orgasms…and I don’t share.

  I can’t. I won’t.

  But I still want to.

  Matt

  There are reasons why I escort.

  Reasons no one knows.

  But when Stacey waltzes into my life, with her eager questions and fiery red hair, I start to imagine a different kind of life. The life I can’t have with her.

  She’s the one I’ve been waiting for.

  The gorgeous journalist who lights up a room.

  But how can I ask her to stay?

  If I stop, if I give up, I’ll lose everything.

  I wish I could tell her why.

  I can’t. I won’t.

  But, God, do I want to.

  This sassy heroine, swoony hero, soul-mates and fate story is a standalone and has a happily ever after.

  Acknowledgments

  This. Book. I never thought I would finish it. I couldn’t put my finger on why I was stopping and starting over the course of almost a year. Then it hit. What Skye was dealing with was a little too close to the bone. I’ve struggled with my emotional health this last year for lots of different reasons. It continues to be a work in progress, as it is with Skye, but I’m learning to not be too hard on myself. I’m so pleased I continued with their story and I hope you enjoyed their journey to their happy ever after that I never thought would come!

  Thanks to Ann – Not only are you an amazing beta reader but you’re an amazing person and you’ve supported me so much during the process of writing Will and Skye’s book. Thanks for checking in on me!

  Thanks to Laura, Jenn and Jessica – I know it was hard for you to find your focus and the time to beta read during the COVID-19 madness. Thanks for your comments and love.

  Thanks to JoAnn at Twin Tweaks editing.

  Thanks to Kari at Kari March designs for a beautiful cover.

  Finally, thanks to my readers. Your support means so much.

  Stay safe x

  About the Author

  Lynsey M. Stewart enjoys writing stories about characters that experience a few bumps in the road before finding their happily ever after (also known as contemporary romance with plenty of heat). She lives with her husband, her soul mate and muse, along with their gorgeous, precious, ridiculously independent little girl. Lynsey began writing after being inspired by great books, amazing writers and wonderful stories that she couldn’t stop thinking about long after reading the last word. If she’s not writing, you can usually find her with her head in a book or singing along to music. She’s hopeless, but she enjoys pretending to be Adele every once in a while.

  Find Lynsey on:

  www.lynseymstewart.com

  authorlynseymstewart@outlook.com

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