by King, Kelsey
Scandalous Temptations
Copyright © 2018 Kelsey King
authorkelseyking.com
* * *
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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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
Epilogue
About Kelsey King
Books by Kelsey King
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Preview of Mountain Man’s Fake Fiancée
I. Synopsis
1. Tate
2. Brianna
1
Harlow
Ever since high school, I’ve been able to multitask flawlessly. It followed me through college and when I went to work at my first real job. It’s a skill I take pride in despite my mother’s constant criticism. I know she hates it when I try to do several things at once, but it’s impossible for me not to manage multiple tasks.
“Harlow,” she scolds, pulling my phone from my hands.
I jump at her sudden movement then reach to try and grab my phone back. “Mom, I’m working.”
“That’s the problem.” She frowns. “You’re too busy looking down at this screen to see who won the volleyball game.” She gestures to my nieces and nephews splashing around in the pool, and I reluctantly follow her gaze. My sister’s kids scream with joy as they start up their second game. I was supposed to watch them, but I’d been distracted by an email from my boss.
“I’m sorry,” I say sincerely, turning back to her. “After this, I swear I’ll be good. Just let me have my phone back. It’s work-related, and I have to get that email sent by three today.”
For a moment, she looks skeptical, probably trying to decide if I’m lying to her. But I’m not. This past month has been hectic for me, trying to maintain my family life with the sudden workload that’s been thrust upon me.
For months now, everyone at Hart Publishing has known about the new imprint the owners are creating. After thirteen years of dominating the romance world, the heads of the company are branching out into the erotic romance genre—something much steamier than their usual fade to black, sweet romance. They wanted to put a special focus on eBooks, and they wanted to hire someone with experience to take the reins.
That someone was me.
When I first heard that they wanted me to be the senior editor for Midnight Press, I was shocked. I’m not even ashamed to admit that I was jumping for joy in my office when no one was looking. Although I was excited, the pressure to make this a success and show everyone I could do it gave me anxiety. I started at Hart right after college and have been there for nearly nine years now. I interned and worked my way up through sheer grit and determination. Though I haven’t been there as long as some of the other editors, they picked me. Even now, I still can’t believe it.
“Mom,” I insist, wiggling my fingers for emphasis. “I promise. Just one email then I’ll turn my phone off.”
Finally, she hands it back, and I’m able to finish up the last of the message. I tell my boss, Shelby that I’m still in contact with Liam Daniels and that we should be hearing back from him any day now. Once I hit send, I make a huge show of turning the device off and sliding it into my purse. Mom smiles with satisfaction.
“I love you, Harlow,” she says, rising and kissing my forehead. It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes when I smile.
While she heads back inside, I make my way over to the grill where my older brother, Tyler stands; flipping over racks of ribs and a couple steaks. “Hey, kiddo,” he greets.
“Hey, bro. That’s lookin’ good.” I nod toward the sizzling, the smell making my stomach growl.
Tyler’s been a talented cook his entire life, so when our dad passed away, he took over the role as the ‘man of the house.’ He managed to graduate at the top of his class in culinary school and worked to help Mom with the bills. He always shined best in the kitchen, so it only made sense for him to venture into the culinary world. For our sister Britney’s wedding, he created the entire menu and worked with his kitchen staff to help make it the best day of her life. If I think hard enough, sometimes I can still taste the raspberry truffle cake he made for Britney and Andrew.
“It’s just about ready,” he says, glancing around the backyard. “Mind telling everyone it’s almost time to eat?”
“Not a problem at all,” I reply. I pat him on the shoulder and head to the pool, ushering the kids out and toward their towels. Britney’s youngest looks at me with big blue eyes. Despite how soaked she is from the pool, I bend down to wrap my arms around her.
“Hey, sweetie. You ready to eat?”
Rather than responding, she nods excitedly.
“C’mon, let’s get you all dried off and dressed.” As the older kids get ready, I carry Katie inside and help her get ready for lunch. Passing by Mom, I can feel her eyes on me. Before she even says anything, I know exactly where this conversation will lead—and I dread it with every fiber of my being.
“You’re a natural at that,” she says with this affected lightness in her voice. From years of experience, she only does that when she wants to oh-so-subtly hint at the prospect of me having children.
“I’m not having this conversation with you right now, Mother,” I say pointedly.
Katie lifts her arms, and I pull her bumblebee shirt over her head, ruffling her hair. “All done, sweetie. Go sit with Mommy, okay?”
As she runs back outside with her brothers and sisters, I stand up and give my mom a look. A “Harlow Look” is sharp with narrowed eyes and raised brows. It practically begs for someone to challenge me. Most of the time, my family knows not to go any further than that, but today must be different because Mom wipes her hands on a dishtowel and approaches.
“Look, Harlow. All I’m saying is that you’re getting older—”
“Thirty is not ‘getting older,’ Mom. Just because I didn’t have kids at twenty-three doesn’t mean I’m going to die an old cat lady,” I tell her. Though at the rate my non-existent love life is going, that just might be my reality after all. I don’t dare tell her that. “I just got this big promotion at work, and I’m trying to balance seven new-to-me authors—and one is a huge deal for the new press. I don’t have time to think about what I want to do with my hair let alone when I’m going to have a baby. I know you’re doing this out of love, but I need you to understand that I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m an adult, same as you, and I have a job. It’s my career − one I worked really hard to earn. I have an entire editing team to run, I’m stressed every day, and I just want to come to your house every now and then and escape from all of that. So, can you please, please just let me have that?”
Her lips purse and she drops her gaze, nodding. “I’m sorry. I know you’re stressed.”
Overcome with guilt for snapping at her, I step forward and hug her. Instantly I’m flooded with senses. The softness of her hair on my cheek. The smell of her citrus lotion. For a moment, I’m afraid I’ve said too much, but she hugs me, and suddenly everything is okay.
“W
hen I’m ready,” I say, pulling back to look at her. “I’ll let you know before anyone else.”
“Promise?”
“I swear.” I smile.
As much as I love spending time with my family, they all have a special ability to keep me planted where I am and talking until it’s far too late. Tonight is no different. Despite the pile of work sitting at home, I’m unable to force myself to leave until nearly eleven. All of the children have fallen asleep, and Britney, her husband, and Tyler all decide to spend the night. I wish I could, but I can’t.
I finish off my glass of lemonade and take it to the sink to wash. Tyler sidles up beside me, poking my sides. “C’mon, Harlow. Stay the night. Mom found our old Nintendo 64 upstairs, and I want to kick your ass in some Mario Kart.”
The idea sounds fun, but I can’t justify skipping a night of work to throw bananas and eat mushrooms for speed boosts. “I would if I could, but I have lots of work…”
Tyler’s shoulders fall just a bit. “One day you’re gonna need to take a break. You know that, right?”
“I know.” I sigh. “I just need to make sure everything is ready. Liam Daniels is a big deal, and I need to make sure I don’t let my boss down. She’s counting on me to make this first big book go smoothly.”
“I don’t tell you this enough, but you inspire me.”
I blink in surprise. Out of everyone, I consider Tyler to be the most successful in our family. A string of restaurants under his belt and a catering company. For him to say that I inspire him is mind-blowing. “Wow, Ty. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just know that despite how annoying I find you, I still think you’re the hardest worker I know. You don’t let anyone or anything get in the way of what you want to do. And that inspires me.”
I give him the tightest hug I’ve given anyone in a long time. He laughs and returns the gesture, patting my back. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
I collect my bag and phone then together we walk outside. Being out here reminds me of all the times my sister and I would sneak out and hang out with her friends on weeknights. Britney was rebellious when she was younger, always pushing Mom and Dad’s buttons to see how far she could get them before they exploded. Usually, it worked out in her favor, but there were times when she went too far, causing a huge explosion of emotions that she was never truly prepared for.
When she met her husband Andrew, that rebellious side simmered down. They were high school sweethearts, the Hollywood couple everyone wanted to be. The difference was, their love didn’t dissipate when they graduated. In fact, it only grew more, and before either of them could put their degrees to use, they were expecting and moving into their first home. Part of me was jealous when I heard the news. Jealous of the way Mom and everyone else seemed to breathe with relief. Tyler hadn’t given Mom grandkids by that point, and many wondered if she’d ever have grandchildren to call her own. I was also jealous of how easy it seemed for Britney. She got the husband and the baby and the starter house like it came effortlessly.
Tyler and me? We worked day in and day out, sacrificing romance and social interaction for our careers. Though I’ve mostly gotten over that jealousy, I think it still brews inside me, buried underneath everything. There’s a part of me that wants the life Britney and Andrew have built together.
“Tell Brit and the kids that I love them, and I’m sorry I couldn’t stay,” I tell him, making sure he knows I mean it. I don’t get to see them often, and I want them to know that I still love them.
“I will, I will,” he says. “Drive safe.”
“I’ll see you later.” I climb into my car and back out of the driveway, waving to Tyler before I turn the corner.
On the ride home, my mind wanders. I take in what Tyler said. Maybe he’s right. A break is much needed. I’ve spent eight years putting my heart and soul into editing, but even the greats needed a break. After this book with Liam, I could possibly take a vacation for a week. Soak up some sun, talk to a few locals at whatever island getaway I’m staying at. Something to treat myself to after so much dedication to Hart Publishing.
When I get home, I take a long hot shower, allowing it to ease the tension in my muscles. Spending time around Mom always causes me to tense up. She’s a lot, but I love her more than anything in the world—even if she does get on my nerves sometimes. I drag my fingers through my blonde hair, scrubbing out the cookout smoke smell and chlorine from the pool. By the time I’m finished, I smell like lavender and Shea butter, a scent that never fails to soothe my spirits.
With my hair tied back, I make my way to my desk in the corner of the living room. As expected, there’s an email from Shelby. I shoot a quick response to her, then get started on a few minor edits I have to do with one of our authors that’s just on the brink of publishing her first sexy werewolf story. There isn’t much left to do, but I still give the final chapters a read, making sure that none of the other editors have missed anything. Fortunately, our team is exceptional, making my job a little easier.
Just as I begin to log out, a new email pops up in my inbox from none other than Liam Daniels. Liam’s name is practically synonymous with sexy, steamy fun. When he was just twenty-three, he came onto the scene and took the literary world by storm. He began with stories he’d heard from his frat brothers, inspired by the insanity of their love lives, but as he continued writing, more women were drawn to him. His latest book, Dirty Little Secrets, is all anyone at Midnight can talk about. Based on his own scandalous love affair during his twenties with a woman he met online, DLS is already expected to be an International Bestseller. It’s the kind of running start Midnight Press needs, and there’s no doubt in my mind that if I fumble something this huge, Shelby’s going to see how big of a mistake she made assigning me as the senior editor.
No pressure at all.
Not only was the work stressful, but something about Liam was magnetically distracting. At first, I thought it was just the excitement of getting to work with someone as famous as him, but the more we talked, the more I found myself wanting to know all about him. DLS is his most personal work from what I heard, and after reading his manuscript, I was painfully hooked on every last word.
I open his email and take in the wall of words he’s sent me. This isn’t surprising, because as polite as he is, he’s opinionated. He rarely agrees with me on changes and suggestions when I first make them, and he never shies away from giving his opinion on what I think works best for his book. If it were anyone else, an editor might think he’s presumptuous, but I consider it part of his charm. He’s passionate, just shy of being a dick about things. He knows how to toe that line, asserting himself without dominating the conversation.
Knowing that this is going to be a lot to wade through, I push pause on my work and step into the kitchen. I need food and more wine. I throw together a sandwich then pour myself a glass of Malbec. As I start for the computer, I freeze. I might need more than just one drink. To be safe, I take the whole bottle with me.
I crack my neck and take a seat, preparing to read through this mountainous email.
2
Liam
A voice in the back of my head is telling me that my editor has it out for me.
I’ve never met the woman in person, but Harlow Knight is someone I’ve heard plenty about. Before signing with Midnight Press, I had my agent do a little research, and what he found was quite impressive. Harlow had been with Hart for as long as I’ve been publishing my work, and Midnight Press was her big break. She’d gone to Brown University, she had a pretty large family, and every Tuesday night, she watched Younger and live-tweeted her thoughts about it. And though this had nothing to do with her career, I’d browsed through her Instagram feed, and found myself struck by how attractive she is.
In her latest post, her shoulder length blonde hair framed her petite face, her green eyes sparkled like she held a secret close to her chest. Her cherry lips pulled into a smile, and an ado
rable pink blush had been burned onto her cheeks.
That image is the one I see whenever I think of her. Gorgeous, but with secrets. Secrets that I’d like to uncover.
Despite how attractive I find her, I’ve never been this frustrated with someone.
I’d started my morning off relatively fine, waking up at ten and spending the rest of the morning lounging around the house as I took mental notes about my next project. At noon, I went to lunch with a few of my writer friends to discuss a possible anthology they wanted me to be part of. By the time I got back from lunch, I found an email in my inbox. The dreaded editorial letter.
These are nothing new to me. Like every author, I’ve gotten one of these letters for each book I’ve published. Most of the time, they’re somewhere between five to fifteen pages, but the document I’d received this afternoon ended at page thirty-seven. At first, I’d thought it was a mistake. Maybe she’d taken big chunks of the book and commented on them or hell maybe she tripled spaced. But after reading it over, it was nothing but her opinion on what needed to be fixed and what needed to be reworked.
Her biggest issue was the storyline with Grace, a woman based off one of my longest relationships. Quoting her, she felt this piece of the story, “seemed to portray an affair in a positive light…something that might alienate your main demographic.”
That phrase has haunted me since one o’clock. I’ve always prided myself on my honesty and ability to be completely upfront with my writing. It’s what my readers have come to expect. Basing this story off my life means portraying all of the painful, uncomfortable relationships I’ve had.
