by Riley Love
His excited whoop must have been heard by everyone downstairs. Grayson swept me up into his arms and crushed me against his chest. Then he released me just as quickly and held me at arm’s length.
“Did I hurt you?”
The panic in his face made me laugh. “I’m pregnant, not a china doll. You can hug me as tight as you want. And when this party is over, I expect a good hard dicking too.”
His gaze went from worry to a smolder that turned my insides to mush. Then he had me up against the wall again, his mouth on mine, his tongue sweeping through my mouth.
Maybe we’d make a fashionably late entrance after all.
Thank You
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Snowed in with the Stuntmen
A Reverse Harem Romance
“Get me out of the contract!” I roared. The paparazzi and the gossip hounds that security could never seem to clear away from my hotel room door would have plenty to write about tonight. Good. Maybe a little public relations nightmare would make my agent and production take me seriously. I wasn’t usually this much of a diva, but this movie was going downhill in a hurry. I couldn’t work with my ex another minute.
“Albany, I know it seems bad right now.” Rose, my agent, exhaled loudly. She’d really tried to quit her pack-a-day habit, but my drama had her chain smoking again. I’d feel guilty about it later. “But it’s only a month. You don’t have to see Kyle every day. You can do this. Pledge of Allegiance has an amazing script. I’ve already heard some whispers about awards.”
I didn’t know how she could hear anything over my desperate pleas. So yelling wasn’t working—that was clear. Time to turn on the charm. I was an actress, apparently a pretty good one, if Rose was to be believed. But stroking my ego was part of her job.
“No, it’s not a lot of time. But I’m concerned about the script. It’s supposed to be this love-conquers-all type of thing, but the director keeps saying she doesn’t believe the connection between me and Kyle.” My ex. My costar. We’d been America’s favorite couple, until he started pursuing other interests. Like his personal makeup artist. In order for the script to work, we had to make the viewers believe we were still in love. It would be the most challenging role of our careers.
“You’re an actress. Make it happen.” Maybe stroking my ego wasn’t always a part of Rose’s job. “Think of it as payback. Make his cock so hard when he’s filming that he squirms in front of the crew. He won’t be able to think of anything but you. Be the bigger person, Albany. The one who moves on.”
Giving my ex blue balls didn’t exactly seem like moving on, but it did sound satisfying.
“I’m trying, but you keep telling me I have to finish this movie.” A half-dozen actresses struggling to maintain cred on the B-list would walk over me with their stilettos to get this role. How did I know that? They’d already tried. “And I’m not sure how we’re going to do that. There’s a big storm coming. We probably won’t be able to film for the rest of the week. The locals are talking about an avalanche warning.”
Snow was a necessary evil for Pledge of Allegiance. I was playing the First Lady, and I got abducted by a gang of French thugs to settle the score in some international shenanigans—I wasn’t much for politics—and held hostage in a villa in the Alps. Kyle, my ex in real life and my pretend husband and fake president in the movie, had to decide if his love for me was stronger than his loyalty to the country. Luckily, we weren’t actually filming in the Alps—it was a sexy thriller and we were going more for atmosphere than accuracy—and for the next month, the cast and crew had taken over a small Vermont ski resort.
It was beautiful here but boring as hell. The resort was outside of a tiny town, and we were surrounded by nothing but trees and snow. We’d just started filming, and my rage for Kyle was too close to the surface of my skin for my own good. I hadn’t been myself, on or off camera. The word diva had been batted around, mostly whispered loudly behind my back. I’d been invited to dinner with the other actors, but I usually declined. There was no telling if Kyle was invited too. I spent most nights alone in my hotel room with a bottle of wine and my script, dreaming of ways I could stick it to Kyle’s character and get my revenge on screen.
“Albany, I’m begging you. Hang in there. It will be worth it.” Rose coughed. I really did feel bad about making her smoke again. “Kyle will show his true colors. He always does. It’s your turn to shine.”
I paid her to say things like that too. But I wanted this to be my breakout role, more than anything. Dating Kyle had given me a taste of fame at that level. It wasn’t the people kissing my ass or the screaming fans I was after. I wanted the complete creative control that came with that perceived magic touch. People listened to Kyle because they thought all it took was attaching his name to something to make it a blockbuster. I’d been lucky, as a consistently working actress, but I was restless. I had so many ideas, and I wanted to bring my characters to life instead of someone else’s.
As soon as I hung up, an email pinged through to my phone. Due to expected inclement weather conditions, production will be down until Monday in the interest of the safety of the cast and crew.
It was Wednesday night. Snowpocalypse was slated to start early in the morning and tear our ski resort a new asshole until Friday. Had we been given advance warning, I would’ve gotten the hell out of Dodge. But movies were last-minute operations, and it was too late to escape.
There had to be something to do here. I’d be damned if I drank myself stupid in this hotel room for four straight days. In a wine-dazed fog, I’d find myself banging on Kyle’s door and doing something I regretted. Rose was right, a month wasn’t a long time—unless I made a fool out of myself. Then it was an eternity.
My only scene for the day filmed that morning. Some of the other cast and most of the crew were still on set, and I had the resort mostly to myself. Perfect time to venture out and grab a bite to eat without too many people around. Those paparazzi I was worried about would follow Kyle before they followed me. And I’d snapped at them, more than once. Had to earn my diva cred. But in case I was wrong, I pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail and wrapped a scarf around my neck. Sunglasses indoors would be totally ridiculous and a dead giveaway.
Sad thing was, some of those reporters had no idea who they were supposed to be following. I was another in a long line of Kyle Edwards’s exes. We all looked similar, like we’d rolled off an assembly line. He had a type. Long, dark hair, upturned nose, and big boobs. He liked them fake, but I came by mine honestly. I was a little heavier than the rest of his exes, according to the gossip sites, and that was how I’d stand out in a lineup.
I had a type too. I called it not a cheating asshole.
Getting out of my room was the best thing I could do. I needed to get my mind off Kyle, my role, and Pledge of Allegiance, even if only for as long as it took to eat my salad. The restaurant had just opened, but laughter already rang out from the bar. When I dined alone, that was where I preferred to sit. Under normal circumstances, pre-Kyle and Pledge of Allegiance, it was easier to blend in and not call attention to myself that way.
“Look at who it is! The star of the show!” A man’s booming voice ensured every eye in the room was on me. So much for plan A.
I couldn’t be too annoyed because the voice belonged to one of my favorite guys on the cast. Ethan, one of the stunt guys who was responsible for stealing me from my fake husband. He took my breath away every time I looked at him. Dark, shaggy hair, olive skin, and the most surprising blue eyes.
We hadn’t shot the actual abduction scene yet—movies weren’t filmed in
chronological order; instead scenes were shot by when production could get the location—but we had done some of the scenes where I was being held prisoner in the French villa. Just me and four stuntmen hot enough to melt the snow, hellbent on revenge and the destruction of America.
At the risk of sounding like a traitor, I didn’t care if the rescue party ever found me. I’d be completely content living out the rest of my fictional days with my muscle-bound captors.
“Hi, guys.” I took a seat at the bar near their table. “Ready for the storm?”
“Got almost everything we need,” Drew, who looked to be the youngest of the group, said. He’d mentioned he was fresh out of the military, but I wasn’t sure what branch.
I wouldn’t mind being snowed in with him serving and protecting me. Hopefully, he assumed the flush that rose on my cheeks was a byproduct of the fireplace in the tavern.
“They’ll take care of us here.” That was the magical part of being part of a movie—everything was taken care of. Food, travel, lodging, and someone willing to cater to my every whim.
The stunt guys exchanged a knowing smile, like they shared an inside joke I didn’t understand. Whatever. I’d crashed their party. I turned back to the bar and picked up a menu. I hadn’t decided yet if I’d stay and have a glass of wine or order something to go. Kyle was shooting the late shift at our fake White House, which meant he and Tiffany, the personal makeup artist who serviced him in more ways than one, would be gone for hours.
We had a month left of shooting, and if I started acting like a hermit now, it would be the longest month of my life. Kyle Edwards might be the star of this show, but he couldn’t dull my shine unless I let him. I flagged down the bartender and ordered a glass of sauvignon blanc.
“Albany, are you having dinner by yourself?” Garrett, a California-issue blond and tan surfer, tugged on the back of my jacket.
I turned around to find his big, green eyes pleading for…something from me. The muscles low in my belly clenched, and for a moment, I pictured him naked and on his knees before me. What is hot in here, or… Where the heck was that wine?
“My date got caught in the storm.” I shrugged, barely suppressing a grin before I turned back to my waiting wine glass. Everyone on this movie was aware of the tension between Kyle and me, on and off the set. It would be sweet if this mythical date was a real person who showed up in time for the storm.
“You’re not eating alone.” Ethan’s words were tipped with a growl. It was the sexiest thing ever. He might have actually been French—there was a hint of an accent that I couldn’t quite place. Yeah, I had a crush on my costars. All four of them. They’d starred in quite a few of my fantasies.
Was it still considered Stockholm Syndrome if it was only make believe?
“Join us, Albany.” Drew waggled his eyebrows. “Let those bloggers tell the world that you had four over-muscled knuckleheads who kept you warm during the storm.”
These panties were done for the moment I got back to my room.
Harvey, who I swore only spoke when someone paid him to do so, scooted his chair over to make room for me. His grin was slow, but it warmed my skin better than the fire because I knew it was real. He could’ve been ex-military too, with cropped dark hair, light brown skin, and green eyes like sea glass. If the bloggers did post an account of this night, Drew’s description wasn’t even close to what they’d write. These were four of the best-looking men I’d ever laid eyes on.
“I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” I said, interrupted when the waitress brought the guys’ dinners. I didn’t know what I wanted, so I just went with my usual. “I’ll get the Caesar salad.”
The set tailor grumbled every time we had a fitting—something about my measurements never staying consistent. I tried not to take it personally, but anything that wasn’t of the leafy green variety tended to go straight to my ass. Rose had negotiated the nude scene out of the script before I signed on the dotted line. A body double would handle that. But my breakup with Kyle had put me in the spotlight. Getting caught eating my feelings wouldn’t help matters.
“That’s all?” Ethan wrinkled his nose. “Fuck no. Bring her a steak. You eat steak, right?”
The part of me that cared about what was written on those blogs about my weight begged me to refuse the order. But the rest of me was fucking hungry. I grinned at the waitress. “Medium rare please.”
A cheer rose from my dinner mates, and they raised their beers to clink my wine glass. I missed this, the camaraderie of being part of the movie, instead of it operating despite me. As the leading lady, people got nervous around me, but nothing had changed but the amount of screen time I’d been given. It was lonely, sitting in a room full of people afraid to talk to me. But I doubted these guys feared anything.
“Did you shoot today?” Garrett asked. “I didn’t see you on set.”
“Yeah. I had the first scene.” It was one of my opening scenes in the movie, where I met with my fictional staff about the party that I got abducted from. And my character was a total bitch. I hated that. “How about you guys?”
“We did. Just got back. Too bad you missed it. We roughed up Kyle, trying to get ransom money out of him for your safe return.”
Ugh. “I’m the one who should get paid to go back to him.”
Ethan leaned forward. “I don’t care what the script says, we’re keeping you.”
I took a long sip of wine to wash away the desire that lingered between us like smoke. Because where there was smoke, there was fire. “I might like that.”
Shit. I really said that out loud. One glass of wine was all it took to disintegrate my filter. Thankfully, the waitress came back with my salad. And I might have ordered another glass of wine. Because maybe I didn’t regret what I’d said. And I liked living in the fantasy world where these men got to keep me.
“How are you spending your snow days, Albany?” Garret asked.
“Going over the script.” I’d screwed up some of my lines lately in my scenes with Kyle. I swore I heard snickers every time. But the harder I tried to get everything perfect, the harder I fucked things up. Kyle never did. It was irritating as hell.
“We’re rehearsing after dinner. The plan was the work on the scene where we take you away from President Dickhead.” Laughter erupted at the table as Drew announced the plan. Some of the cast and crew had shared a discreet eye roll with me or commented under their breath about Kyle, but I didn’t realize the opinion was so widespread. “Want to join us? Gotta warn you though, we’ll be outside in the snow.”
“We’ll make sure you stay warm,” Garrett added.
The smart thing to do would be to go back to my room and learn my damn lines for my next scene with Kyle. But the abduction scene was one of the most important in the story. I’d beg for mercy, and the assailants would refuse to grant me even a drop. I’d struggle and cry and give it everything I had. This scene would sell the movie. The director suggested bringing in a stunt double for me, but I refused. I wanted the raw terror to go through me so I could funnel that emotion into the rest of my performance. It would be stupid not to go with them.
“I’m in.”
COMING SOON - The Billionaire’s Bargain
A MMF Billionaire and Virgin Romance
Chapter 1: Caitriona
What was that old saying, again? Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. Yeah, that one. It might sound like a cliché, but it was true. At least, it was for me.
I had my whole life planned out. I was going to graduate from college, marry my boyfriend Steve in his father’s church, become a teacher, and then live happily ever after.
Except, you know … life.
So now, instead of sitting in the library studying for my next test, I was parked next to Steve on a leather couch in the basement of an exclusive sex club somewhere in the middle of downtown. I’d been so busy with school that I hadn’t noticed he’d turned into the type of person who blew all our money on hookers
and blackjack.
Which was where I came in. Because it turned out I had something a certain type of man would pay handsomely for. My virginity.
“You can’t be serious?” My head swung between Steve and Janessa Carmichael, the sophisticated woman sitting across from us. On either side of her two suited goons stood guard like silent sentries. “You want to sell my virginity?”
“Miss Patrick, I understand this probably isn’t how you planned to spend your afternoon.”
“You think?” I asked, shooting to my feet and turning on Steve. “I have an exam in two days!”
Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Trust me, I know. Your exams all are you ever talk about.”
“That’s because I have to get good grades to keep my scholarships. We’ve talked about this, and you said you understood.”
“I did, until you started ignoring me. It’s your fault we’re here in the first place.”
“How is it my fault you gambled away all my dad’s money?” I stood over him, my fists clenched and my chest sawing in and out with fury. I wasn’t a violent person, but I was about two seconds away from putting my hands around his neck and squeezing for all I was worth.
With a deep breath, I stepped away and counted down from ten. “Can you repeat the details of the deal he made with you?” I asked, turning back to Janessa.
It made zero sense that I was considering going through with this, but what choice did I have? If these people didn’t get their money, they’d hurt Steve. Today’s revelations had hurt me, but that didn’t mean I wanted him laid up in traction in some hospital somewhere—or worse.
“I want to know exactly what I’m signing up for,” I added, my shoulders thrown back. If I was going to prostitute myself, I wasn’t going to do it with my head bowed in shame. I would not let Steve’s bad choices ruin me.
