Falling: A Sexy Alpha Romance Collection
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
Part I
Part II
Epilogue
Falling
Be The One
Presley
Jett
Steal My Breath
Part 1
Callie
Luke
Part 2
Bonus Chapter
Playlist
Relent
Also by Nina Levine
About the Author
Falling
A Sexy Romance Collection
Nina Levine
Nina Levine Books
Contents
Falling
Be The One
1. Presley
2. Jett
3. Presley
4. Presley
5. Presley
6. Presley
7. Jett
8. Presley
9. Presley
10. Jett
11. Presley
12. Jett
13. Presley
14. Jett
15. Presley
16. Presley
17. Jett
18. Presley
19. Jett
20. Presley
21. Jett
22. Presley
23. Jett
24. Presley
25. Jett
26. Presley
27. Jett
28. Jett
29. Presley
30. Jett
31. Jett
32. Presley
33. Presley
34. Presley
35. Jett
36. Presley
37. Jett
38. Presley
39. Jett
40. Presley
41. Jett
42. Presley
Steal My Breath
Prologue
Part 1
1. Callie
2. Callie
3. Callie
4. Callie
5. Luke
6. Callie
7. Luke
8. Callie
9. Luke
10. Callie
11. Luke
12. Callie
13. Luke
14. Callie
15. Callie
16. Luke
17. Callie
18. Callie
19. Luke
20. Callie
21. Callie
22. Luke
23. Callie
24. Luke
25. Callie
26. Luke
27. Callie
28. Callie
29. Callie
30. Callie
31. Luke
32. Callie
33. Luke
34. Callie
35. Callie
36. Luke
37. Callie
38. Callie
39. Callie
40. Callie
41. Luke
42. Luke
Part 2
43. Callie
44. Luke
45. Callie
46. Callie
47. Luke
48. Callie
Epilogue
Bonus Chapter
Playlist
Relent
Also by Nina Levine
About the Author
Falling
A Sexy Romance Collection
From USA Today Bestselling author Nina Levine comes this sexy collection of romances that will have you fanning yourself.
Both books are standalones with HEA’s. No cliffhangers!
This collection contains all the panty-melting sexiness and alpha goodness that Nina Levine books are known for.
Be The One
A standalone novel from USA Today bestselling author Nina Levine.
This cocky bad boy rocker has met his match. He wants her heart, but she only wants his body.
Presley
I don’t care that he’s a smooth talker. He can sweet-talk me all he likes, so long as he backs it up with an orgasm or two. But I’m not looking for a relationship. God, no. Not with a rockstar.
Jett
I don’t care that she argues with me and throws up walls like she’s building a fucking house. Presley Hart will be mine. I’ll make sure of it.
"I totally loved her smart mouth and back-talking to Jett and that it just sets him off even more. Every time she got smart, he got hotter and hotter for her, and the sex was off the charts!" - Amazon Reviewer
(Be The One was originally book two in the Crave Series. It has been combined with the first book to create one standalone novel.)
Steal My Breath
A friends-to-lovers standalone novel from USA Today bestselling author Nina Levine.
This bossy bartender is about to cross a line he knows he shouldn’t. But Callie St James isn’t a woman he can say no to any longer.
Callie
Luke Hardy is bossy as fuck. Moody too. But I’ve had a thing for him since we met. I spend half my time arguing with him, and the other half drooling over him. I’m screwed now, though, because I just slept with him and I’ve decided I want a whole lot more than sex. Only problem is, Luke has a secret I never knew. The kind of secret that messes everything up.
Luke
Callie St James likes to argue with me over everything. It irritates the hell out of me. She also turns me on like no other woman ever has. There’s only one problem with that. I can’t date her. And now I’ve gone and screwed it all up by sleeping with her.
"This story has it all—tension, angst, suspense and heartbreak. I've smiled, laughed, cried and was angry at some point wanting to shake them both. It is not often I feel so connected to the characters, but Nina has accomplished just that." - Amazon Reviewer
Join my list and receive a FREE copy of my book, Fierce (hot sexy alpha romance!)
Be The One
by Nina Levine
1
Presley
As I take the call I’ve been waiting six months for, the people around me carry on with their lives as mine stands still. It’s funny how that happens. How, in the blink of an eye, your life can change so completely and yet everyone else is unaware. If they were to look at you, they wouldn’t know anything had changed.
I’m in the middle of running a photography shoot, and I’ve got people everywhere. In amongst the noise and chaos, my world is being tilted, and I’m struggling to focus on what’s being said.
“Presley, are you listening to me?”
His question pulls me back into the conversation. “It’s too late now, Lennon. I needed you to say this to me six months ago.”
He sighs and it’s as familiar as an old cardigan. It’s the same sigh he’s used on me numerous times throughout our marriage, the sigh that tells me how frustrated he is with whatever I am asking of him. “How can it be too late? We’ve been married for three years, that’s not something you just give up on. I want you back, and I’ll do anything to make that happen.”
The pain his words inflict tears another hole in my heart. “The reason it’s too late is because you should have been willing to do anything to make our marriage work while we were in it or when I told you there was a problem. But you didn’t. You were too busy with your work to care about me and telling me six months later is not enough. You need to accept this is over and move on.”
“That’s not gonna happen, baby. You’re mine and I’m coming home to show you how wrong I was.”
“You’re coming back to Australia?”
“That’s what I just said. I’ll be there next week. Once we finish up with the tour.”
Now it’s my turn to sigh. He just doesn’t get it.
“And that’s why we’ll never work,” I say softly.
I know him so well I can almost hear his brain thinking and I can picture his brows pulled together in confusion as he asks, “Why?”
“Because if you truly loved me and wanted me back, you wouldn’t be waiting for the bloody tour to end.” I take a breath before adding, “Don’t come back, Lennon. I don’t want to see you.” I bite my lip as I prepare to end the call.
Darla, my assistant, is watching me closely, and she raises her brows, questioning if I’m okay. She knows the last thing I need on this shoot is for my concentration to be challenged. And she can probably tell from my body language and facial expressions that’s exactly what’s happening. She’s worked with me for a long time and been my friend for longer. She knows me well. I nod at her to indicate I’ll be okay, because I will be. This isn’t the first time my husband has screwed with my concentration. I’m well versed in dealing with it and getting through my work, in spite of it.
Lennon’s patience gives way. I’m surprised he’s lasted this long with that short fuse of his. “Presley, you don’t know what you want half the time,” he snaps. “We’re meant to be, and you’ll see that when I get there.”
“Goodbye, Lennon,” I say and hang up because otherwise we could be going back and forth all day. He just doesn’t listen. I knew it while we were together, but since we broke up, it’s become even clearer to me.
Darla approaches. “You okay, boss?”
“That was Lennon,” I say.
Her eyes widen. “What did he want?”
“Apparently, after all this time, he’s decided he wants me back. Says he’s coming home in a week or so to show me how much.”
“That bloody asshole!” She’s never been a huge fan, not after she saw the way he always put our marriage second to his career.
“I feel like this truly is the end now, you know?” I don’t know why I feel sad about this all of a sudden. I’ve spent the last six months trying to get over him, and I’ve started moving on, but after that conversation, it feels more final. I look at Darla with resignation. “I don’t know, maybe deep down I still hoped he’d come and fight for me, but what he’s doing doesn’t feel like enough. Does that sound stupid?”
She madly shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t, and you’re right . . . this is all too little, too late.”
I slowly nod. “Yeah, it is.”
We stand in silence for a moment, both lost in thought about the demise of my marriage. Eventually, Darla claps her hands together. “Okay, back to work. We’re going to get this shoot finished and then we’re gonna go out and get drunk.”
I shake my head and grin mischievously at her. “No, you might be going to get drunk… I’m going to get laid.”
Laughing, she agrees, “Yes, you are. And I might just do that, too.”
I finish applying lipstick to my lips, place it back in my purse, and then run my fingers through my long, blonde hair, messing it up as I go. The straight hair trend shits me to tears; give me messy, wild hair any day over that perfect, boring look. Stepping back from the mirror, I assess my outfit for tonight; skintight black leather pants, heels, and a slinky red sleeveless top. I’ve finished it off with an assortment of bracelets and my silver Tiffany heart tag necklace. Yeah, I grin, tonight I’m going to score.
“Presley, babe, you made it.”
I divert my attention from the mirror to the voice behind me. Shit, I’d forgotten she’d be here tonight. Jade Garcia. Supermodel. Shallow bitch from hell. God, give me strength.
Before I can reply, her food deprived friend interrupts. “You’re the photographer from today’s shoot, aren’t you?”
Full points to the vapid supermodel wannabe. I bite my tongue on so many witty remarks and instead, simply reply, “Yes.” Well, okay, perhaps they weren’t witty, so much as catty. I can be one of the cattiest bitches you’ll ever meet. That could be why I don’t have a lot of friends. That and the fact that I truly dislike most people I meet.
Jade starts gushing to her friend. “Presley is one of the best photographers I’ve ever worked with. They had to pay a small fortune to get her to work on this shoot.”
I tune her out; I’ve heard it all before, and I’m over it. I’m also over working with models and clients with no imagination. This shoot bored me to fucking tears, and I won’t be in a hurry to work with them again.
“I’ve got to meet another friend, Jade. I’ll see you around,” I say as I begin to make my way out of the ladies’ room.
She raises her eyebrows. “A Valentine’s date?”
“God, no!”
“You don’t like Valentine’s Day?”
“What’s there to like? A commercialised day that puts pressure on people to buy shit that supposedly proves how much they love their partner. I’ve never celebrated it and don’t ever plan to,” I reply, noting her stunned expression.
“Wow. I’ve never met a woman who doesn’t love Valentine’s Day.” Her previous awe of me has been replaced with disdain. If I’d known it would be this easy to change her opinion of me, I would have shared my thoughts earlier.
I shrug. “Well, now you have. Love’s an everyday experience; it’s something shown in the mundane things you do for your partner. It’s not found in a fucking overpriced bunch of flowers picked up on the way home from work because you know if you don’t get them that day, of all days, your life won’t be worth living.”
Jade’s eyes are glazing over; I probably lost her at mundane.
“I’ll catch you later,” I say as I push open the door and exit the room, not waiting for her response. With a bit of luck, I’ll never have to see her again.
The cool air of the club hits my face and I welcome it after the heated stuffiness of the crowded ladies’ room. It’s Friday night and pumping in here. Everyone is celebrating the end of the work week. I’m celebrating the beginning of my holidays. Three months of no work. Three months of doing whatever the hell I want. Bliss.
I make my way to the bar and order a bourbon and Coke. After slamming it down in two gulps, I motion to the bartender to pour me another.
“Hard day, sweetheart?”
Turning to see who is speaking to me, I am momentarily speechless while I take in piercing blue eyes and gorgeous features. Whoever this man is, he has the ability to turn me on just by being near me because I am turned way the fuck on right now. As electricity sparks through me, I imagine running my hands through his dark hair and laying kisses along that chiseled jaw. Need and desire swirl together and I decide that he will be mine tonight.
“Hard week, more like it,” I answer him just as the bartender brings me another drink. Before I can get cash out of my purse to pay for the drink, the guy lifts his chin at the bartender, who nods and walks away without taking payment. I’m still trying to find cash in my purse and the guy puts his hand over mine, stilling it.
“Why was your week so bad?” he asks, his hand still on mine.
I move my hand away. “Thanks for the drink.”
He flashes me a smile that shoots more electricity through me. “You’re very welcome. Now tell me about your week.”
I sigh. “I’d rather not talk about it. Let’s just say that dealing with pretentious, self-centred people for twelve hours a day, five days in a row, is enough to make me consider moving in with the Amish and adopting their way of life.”
He chuckles. “I hear you. It sounds like we’ve been dealing with similar people all week.”
I cock my eyebrow. “Oh, no. I fucking win this one, dude. I’ve been working with models who couldn’t work out their left from their right half the time.”
He nods, another smile forms on his face that would melt my panties if they weren’t already melted. “You win. I could think of nothing worse than working with models.”
My gaze sweeps over him, taking in his jeans and black t-shirt that both hug his body. He’s rocking muscles I am fighting not to drool over; muscles I need to hold my hand
s back from because all they want to do is touch. Those muscles are covered in tats, and I squint to try and read what one of them says. It looks like a quote written in cursive on his forearm, but I struggle to work out what it says.
He sees me looking and holds his arm out as he tells me what it says. “Fate loves the fearless.”
I grab hold of his arm and position it so I can read it better. The moment I touch him, I feel it, and I know he feels it, too, because his eyes show it. There’s an undeniable spark between us, and as soon as it hits me, my body lights up at the thought of sleeping with him.
As I let go of him, he leans his face close to mine and asks, “You feel that?”
Not letting go of his eyes, I nod. The slow burn of desire is eliciting a hunger in me I haven’t felt for a long time. And I sense he wants me just as much as I want him. “I do,” I finally answer him, slightly breathless.
The beat of the music surrounds us, and the crowd threatens to drown us, but I am lost to the moment and almost unaware of everything else as we search each other’s eyes. I’m sure I detect warmth and kindness in his. Odd that I’m getting all that when I’ve just met him, but I would swear it on a bible.
He slowly moves his face away from mine and drinks some of his drink. As he places the glass back on the bar, he says, “I’m Jett.”
“Presley.”
A smile tugs at his lips. “Your parents are Elvis fans?”
“My mother is and my father is blinded by love. She could have called me Elvis and he wouldn’t have blinked.”
This inspires a laugh out of him. “Your parents are still happily married?”
“Yeah, go figure. How many marriages do you know of that are still going strong after thirty years?”
His eyes twinkle. “My parents are still happy after thirty-five years. I guess you and I are like some weird science experiment. It kinda sucks, really.”
Frowning, I ask, “Why?”