Relapse

by J. P. Nicholas

  Historical Tidbit: The oldest pub in Dublin is the Brazen Head, established in 1198 AD as a coach house.

  Stop #4: Sagres, Portugal

  Due to the wind here, it is nearly impossible to keep my hair looking nice and tidy. It's constantly going in all different directions. Darren somehow convinced me to climb to the top of a lighthouse in wedges. The joke is on him though because he's the one that had to carry me back down. To which he obliged, only making me love him even more. Although the view from the top was nice, it was much more empowering on the ground floor, standing at the edge of Europe while overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Simply breathtaking.

  Historical Tidbit: The oldest bookstore in the world is in Portugal's capital, Lisbon. It's called the Bertrand Bookshop, and it was established in 1733. You know I made Darren take me there; it was non-negotiable. I told him I was not going to have sex with him for the remainder of the trip if we didn't go…so, we went.

  Stop #5: Barcelona, Spain

  Paella is delicious. I'm not quite sure what's in it exactly. All I could get translated was olive oil, meat (I don't know what kind), white rice, green beans, white beans, saffron, and rosemary. I'm sure that's not all the ingredients, but those are the ones Google Translate on my phone caught when the waitress spoke. It's probably best I don't know. Ignorance is bliss, right?

  Historical Tidbit: Barcelona was beachless until 1992. That's when they imported sand from Egypt in anticipation of the Olympic Games.

  Stop #6: Paris, France

  Ah, the City of Lights. It's true what they say, Paris just makes you fall in love with being in love. Strolling down the streets with Darren's hand interlocked with mine is truly something special. We started the day with a morning jog through the Luxembourg Gardens. Wide sanded avenues, broad steps, playgrounds, and statues that all just scream Paris! Darren led me down a more rustic path that was beyond a beautiful sight for the eyes. But the best sight was Darren's magnificent ass in those gym shorts. Fuck me sideways; he looked damn good. Sometimes I still can't believe I get to call him my boyfriend.

  After our jog, we visited the Louvre. As a history buff, I can't even describe what I felt staring back at the Mona Lisa. What was she hiding anyway? Her eyes are so mysterious that she had to be sitting on some juicy secret. Maybe she was sleeping with da Vinci. Although, by the looks of him, she could do much better. And did she invent the side-eye?

  After I went into an artistic overload, over-thinking and over-analyzing all the reasons the artists had for creating such masterpieces, Darren and I went back to Hôtel Raphael. We each took a seat on the rooftop terrace, right beneath the rose-covered trellises, drinking a cocktail while staring at the Eiffel Tower on the horizon. C'est magnifique!

  Historical Tidbit: The Notre Dame Cathedral took nearly two centuries to build. Construction started in 1163 and was consecrated as complete in 1345. Oh, and the bell weighs thirteen tons and is named Emmanuel.

  Stop #7: Hohenschwangau, Germany

  Living in Florida for most of my life, I've been to Disney World. I've seen the Cinderella Castle at the Magic Kingdom Park. But seeing the castle it was modeled after, the Neuschwanstein Castle, is something entirely different. This nineteenth-century Romantic-era beauty sits atop a hill overlooking a village. If I was a princess and had to pick a castle to live in, it would be this one. No doubt about it.

  The castle is gorgeous, but so is the man who can't take his eyes off me. Everywhere we go, I take in the sights, whether it be architecture, landscape, or scenery, while Darren's eyes just take in me. I'd say he's eye-fucking me, but he's not. It's so much more than that. Sure, he occasionally ogles my ass, tits, and my other lovely assets, but he looks deeper than that. He can see the real me. The one who drags him to all these boring historical sites that I know he doesn't find the slightest bit interesting, but he doesn't complain. Not even a little whine or puff of air from his luscious lips. Nothing. I don't deserve him. Or the way he looks at me as if I'm the most precious sight of them all, the Eighth Wonder of the World.

  Historical Tidbit: Germany is one of the world's leading book nations, publishing around 94,000 titles every year.

  Stop #8: Vienna, Austria

  One night, Darren is dressed in a sleek, sexy, and perfectly fitted black tux. Potent. Powerful. Persuasive. Looking more like James Bond than Johnny English, if I do say so myself. Very dapper and sophisticated. All of that mixed with his delicious accent makes me want to rip off his cummerbund—amongst other things—and ride him until I come so hard that I see another universe. But then we'd miss the show. It's an opera, although I don't know which one. In all honesty, I don't care much for opera at all, and can't quite remember how this made it onto our bucket list. The show was nice and enjoyable for the most part. In all fairness, though, I watched Darren watching the opera more than I did the actual show. And I have no regrets.

  Historical Tidbit: Napoleon occupied Vienna twice, once in 1805, and again in 1809. The first invasion affected Ludwig von Beethoven by interrupting the premiere of his only opera, Fidelio. Which, I just found out, is the opera Darren took me to see. He figured I'd appreciate the historical significance of it, but I think he was just grasping at straws. Operas are still not my thing.

  Stop #9: Kraków, Poland

  Kraków is a beautiful city, full of history and culture. I have to admit; this carriage is a lot more comfortable than the pumpkin was in Darren's backyard—sorry, Cinderella. The horse-drawn carriage took us on a leisurely ride through Kraków's Old Town, dropping us off at the Wawel Castle. It's clear to see that the castle has a sort of early-Baroque gothic style, with its medieval style structures and architectural styles. The castle is now a museum, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I can tell Darren is getting a little sick of me spitting out random historical facts, but he doesn't say as much. Which is a good thing because I love showing up the curators. They only know the script that they memorized, while I, on the other hand, actually retained the knowledge through my master's program. Watching them struggle to answer my superb questions is beyond entertaining. It cracks Darren up too, which is a nice bonus.

  Historical Tidbit: It's forbidden to feed pigeons in Kraków…just don't ask how I know that.

  Stop #10: Långholmen, Sweden

  The sun rises at 3 a.m., illuminating the clean, clear, cool water. The water tingles my naked body, adding to the sensation when Darren presses his naked body against mine, enveloping me in his warmth as he kisses me under the sunlight. We found a nice, secluded, and quiet cove to take the plunge. It's west of the Västerbron Bridge—for those of you feeling a little frisky. I won't go into too much detail, but let's just say that his body isn't the only thing Darren pressed into me while submerged in the Swedish water. Afterward, we drank hot chocolate and devoured a bunch of chocolate delicacies. It was glorious! And most definitely a memory to remember.

  Historical Tidbit: King Karl XIII doodled penises all over his private diaries in 1785, when he was still a duke at 37 years old. Nobody knows why, but I have my suspicions.

  Stop #11: Budva, Montenegro

  After our last stop, Darren and I manage to keep our bathing suits on as we sunbathe at a gorgeous beach in Montenegro. The beach is uncrowded and picturesque like it's straight out of a movie. In all my life, I've never seen a beach quite as wonderful as this one. And I got a nice tan too.

  Historical Tidbit: Poet, Lord Bryon, once said: "At the birth of the planet the most beautiful encounter between land and sea must have been on the Montenegrin coast." I'm thinking he was onto something, and maybe on something. Although, it is truly magnificent here.

  Stop #12: Paros, Greece

  Darren apparently knows how to sail. He bareboat chartered a boat and sails us all around the Greek Isles. He is just full of surprises. He looks so damn sexy at the helm with the strong wind rustling his thick brown hair. His eyes match the color of the Aegean Sea. God, what a man. An Adonis in Greece, how fitting.

  Historical Tidbit: In Ancie
nt Greece, wearing red lipstick was a sign that you were a prostitute. Prostitutes who appeared in public without their designated lip paint could be punished for improperly posing as ladies. No more red lipstick for me!

  Stop #13: Rome, Italy

  His mango gelato tastes so good on my tongue as he kisses me passionately in front of the Trevi Fountain. Darren rents us a Vespa, just like the one Hilary Duff rides on the back of in The Lizzie McGuire Movie. And just like that, we visit the Colosseum, the Pantheon, St. Peter's Basilica, the Sistine Chapel, the Roman Forum, and a ton of different restaurants. Needless to say, I've eaten my body weight in Italian food since we got here. How could I not? Pizza and pasta are my two favorite foods. Mama mia!

  When the sun sets, Darren serenades me with his cover of Dean Martin's That's Amore. He's not the best singer in the world, I'll admit that much, but the kind gesture makes me swoon regardless.

  Historical Tidbit: Rome built the first-ever shopping mall sometime between 107 and 110 AD. That's right, ladies, you can thank the Romans for malls. For online shopping, you have to thank Amazon.

  Stop #14: Tuscany, Italy

  The final stop, a vineyard in Tuscany. I don't necessarily know how Darren is going to cross growing old together off the list, but I do know that I don't want this trip to end. This has been the best two months of my life. Logan texted me that he has some exciting news to tell me when we get back home to Sandy Heights. That's right, I decided to stay. Sandy Heights will always be my home. I thought I could start over in New York, but if being with Darren has taught me anything, it's that starting over is vastly overrated. Without our history, Darren and I wouldn't be on this trip. He made a promise to me when we were both young and full of ambitions and goals. And now, on this trip, being a man of his word, he is finally fulfilling it.

  With his fingers intertwined with mine, Darren guides me through the rows of grape vines, stopping once we are amid them. He turns around and looks down at me.

  "I remember how much you freaked out the last time I dropped down to one knee, so I won't be doing that again."

  Darren reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out a velvet box. The same one that Wyatt brought me that night. I can see the nerves in his eyes. It's kind of sweet that he's this nervous to propose to me. Did I see this coming? Of course, I did. I knew he had a ring already, remember? Did I expect him to propose while we were on our trip? Most certainly not. I thought he'd wait until we were home, in our house, together.

  He clears his throat before he continues. “Alyssa, my love, my beautiful Cherub. You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. Just when I lost all hope for being able to love again, you waltzed back into my life, and gave me a second, and third, chance. I promise you that I will never need a fourth because I will spend the rest of my life pleasing you, worshiping you, and loving you wholeheartedly. You are my everything. Always have been. Always will be. I want everything with you. A marriage. A family. All of it. I want all of it with you by my side. If you truly want to grow old together on a vineyard in Tuscany, then I will buy us a bloody vineyard. Whatever you want, Alyssa, I will give you. Because I love you so fucking much. More than I ever thought was possible. You know I'm just going to keep rambling on and on until you stop—"

  I crash my mouth to his, devouring him ferociously as our tongues tangle together in a fury. I break the kiss, smiling against his lips as I whisper. "I fucking love you too, Darren. Of course, I'll marry you."

  He kisses me with passionate thrusts of his tongue as he showcases just how much he loves me. Without breaking the kiss, Darren opens the box and slides the ring on my finger. It's the wrong finger, but I do not dare breaking this kiss to tell him that. I'll just fix it later.

  What a perfect ending to our trip. Me, engaged to my very own James Bond. Wanna know a little secret? Darren Gracen is much sexier. And I get to call him mine. All mine. With a capital M.

  Acknowledgments

  As always, there are numerous amounts of people I want to thank.

  First and foremost, I would like to thank all my readers. It is because of you that I get to write and share my stories. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

  Thank you to all the bloggers and everybody else who helped spread the word. Thank you for all the continuous posts, likes, shares, and reviews.

  I also want to thank my wonderful editor, Janell, for waving her magic wand and making every single one of my books better. And I can’t leave out Julie, my fairy Godmother. It’s always such a pleasure when I see your name in my inbox.

  A big thank you goes to Arron Dunworth for allowing me to use your amazing photograph as the cover image for Relapse. It was perfect and just what I was looking for! In addition, I want to thank William Goodge for being the physical embodiment of my British hero, Darren.

  I would also like to thank the authors that continue to inspire me through their beautiful words and stories: Lauren Blakely, Marie Force, Emma Chase, Sarina Bowen, Amy Daws, Helena Hunting, Max Monroe, Jacob Chance, Kendall Ryan, and Christina Lauren.

  Jeanette and Patty, I want to thank you both for all of your support during this entire process. Thank you for reading every single draft I send your way. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.

  Cathy, thank you for being such a great friend! You are always there to answer every ridiculous question I ask you regarding plots, characters, titles, promotional images, cover images, etc. Your opinion always matter to me. You have been there since the beginning, and for that, I am beyond appreciative. Thank you!

  Last, but certainly not least, I want to thank my family for their endless love and support. None of this would be possible without you! Thank you for putting up with my cone-of-silence while I’m in my writing mode. But most of all, thank you for just being you. I love you all so much and thank God every day for blessing me with being a part of this family.

  Sneak Peek

  * * *

  Read On For An Unedited Sneak Peek of Role Model (Sandy Heights #3).

  Chapter One (Unedited)

  Liam

  The light filters in from the curtains, shinning directly onto my closed eyelids. I groan in protest as I roll over onto my side. I expect to nuzzle into my wife’s side, wrap my arm around her, and get sucked into her warmth. But that’s not the case. Instead, my arm just falls to the sheets——the cold sheets.

  I flutter my eyelids open, trying to blink away the sleep. I roar out an obnoxious yawn as I stretch my muscles in an attempt to awaken them. Once I’m no longer half-dead, I toss the sheets off my waist and swing my legs onto the carpeted floor.

  “Okay, let’s find my wife,” I mutter to myself on a sigh.

  It is entirely possible that our son had a nightmare last night and she had to spend the night consoling him in his bed. After all, children are the ultimate cockblockers. And my son is their king.

  I tiptoe down the hall quietly, trying not to wake my light sleeper of a daughter. I swear she would wake up if you drop a toothpick on a rug. Elle takes after her mother in that regard. While my son, Ben, is a heavy sleeper, just like his old man. It’s kind of funny how Ben is the spitting image of me, while Elle is all her mother. There’s no mixture at all. He’s all me, while she’s all her. Elle with her mother’s beauty, and Ben with my rugged charm, God help the dating world of the future.

  Slowly turning the door knob, I carefully ease the door ajar, just enough to peek through the crack and into my son’s room. Ben is still fast asleep, decked out in his Spider-Man pajamas, tucked tightly into his Spider-Man sheets, all while clutching his favorite Spider-Man plush. Sensing a theme yet? My son is going through a Spider-Man phase at the moment. But if he’s anything like his grandfather, he won’t be growing out of it anytime soon…or ever.

  I can’t help but smile as I take in the heartwarming sight. My son is fast asleep on his stomach, his jet black hair spiked in the back. Ben’s cheek is pressed into his pillow and his mouth is open slightly.

/>   It may just be a weird fatherly love thing, but I can’t help but feel a sense of pride as I watch my children sleep. I promise, it sounds a lot creepier then it is. Five years later and I still can’t believe that I helped bring life into this world. Twice! The mere thought still amazes me.

  Growing up, I’ve always wanted to be a father. And now that I am one, I have never been happier. Being the father to Ben and Elle is the greatest accomplishment of my life.

  For a moment, I get lost in thought and admiration, forgetting why I even dragged myself out of bed in the first place. Cheryl is not here, time to check Elle’s room.

  After closing the door, I trek down the hallway and turn the corner, heading towards Elle’s room. As soon as I swing the door open, my little girl’s beautiful brown eyes stare up at me. She raises her hands above her head and gives me the universal sign for pick me up.

  “Daddy!” She shouts enthusiastically in her sweet, high-pitched voice.

  I hoist her up into my arms and press a kiss onto her forehead. “Good morning, Princess.”

  Elle runs her frantic hands through her hair, desperately trying to push her wild brown curls out of her face. It’s no use. Every thick strand she manages to sway bounces right back into its place. She harrumphs in defeat.

  “C’mon sweetie. Let’s go make you some breakfast while Daddy drinks his coffee. Okay?”

  With Elle’s nod of approval, I rest her on my hip as I navigate my way downstairs and into the kitchen. I plop her onto the kitchen island and open the cereal cabinet.

  I point to the first option. “Do you want this one?”

  “No.”

  I motion to the next box in our cereal lineup. “What about this one?”

  She shakes her head, causing her untamable curls to bounce all over the place. “No.”