I barely feel it though, as I stand here feeling like a fraud.
I've always been a normal girl with a normal life. Everything happened so quickly and I just kept nodding my head in disbelief. And now I’m here. Standing outside of the St. Gerard hotel. It’s a sleek and modern building made of black glass and shiny steel. It’s full of a hustle and bustle that echoes the busy streets of New York, but with an edge and sophistication that doesn’t allow for outsiders. It’s high end and only meant for the who’s who of New York City.
And I’m expected to walk through those doors. Just a girl from the suburbs who always dreamed of getting an inch closer to the city.
My heart races thinking about holding my head up high and squaring my shoulders, pretending like I belong here. There’s only so much a person can fake and right now, I can’t even pretend to have confidence. Fake it till you make it. I say the motto over and over. It’s worked for me so far.
“I know, right?” Lydia says with a different air to her tone than mine. Not quite disbelief, more like the sound of accomplishment. The voice someone uses when they know they’ve made it and they’re damn proud.
Sometimes, I wonder at what point she went from being my first client at the agency to a friend. Since day one, only months ago, the air between us has been easy and she’s only shown me a sweet side that’s made it easy to confide in her. Today, of all days, I need someone to lean on and to ground me. I couldn’t have lucked out more.
“Like, ho-ly shit,” I say each syllable separately, thankful that she’s hell-bent on keeping me from making an utter fool of myself.
This is my first real time on set, even though I’ve been interning with one of the top talent agents in Manhattan for months. This is my first time at a real shoot. Well, maybe not today, but sometime in the next few weeks. Not that I wanted this. I never asked for it and a happy accident led me here. It’s Lydia’s fault. The bitch set me up. A smile slips onto my face at the thought.
Lydia was made to be a star, with high cheekbones and straight black hair that’s never needed a keratin blowout. She’s going to kill it in there and earn her place in this industry. She’s supposed to be here.
“We got this,” she says as she maneuvers the Louis Vuitton bag onto her shoulder and smacks her lips together, but the stain doesn’t budge on her lips.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I say softly, my eyes traveling along the etched glass sign above the doorway. My gaze follows the glass elevator as it moves seamlessly up the 150-story building until my eyes can’t focus on it anymore. The glare of the sun forces me to slip my sunglasses back into place. I feel sick to my stomach.
Lydia just smiles, her bright red lips thinning as her pearly whites flash back at me. “You know those aren’t your lines, right?” she asks and then glides the tip of her tongue across her teeth and steps forward, ignoring the dozens of people hurrying to move around us as if we don’t even exist. She’s not intimidated by the building, the people, or the expectations we’re about to walk into.
Ever since high school, almost ten years ago now, I’ve thought about what it would be like to be an actress. I didn’t dare to really dream of it though. I thought I could do casting calls or learn to be an agent. Something in the industry, but I never hoped to actually participate on screen. My first summer out of college as an intern proved this industry moves fast and I need to be prepared for anything.
“Four weeks of this,” Lydia says as a woman in a chic pink Chanel tweed dress and a thin black patent leather belt around her waist walks past us. It’s hard not to notice her. Her hot pink pumps click loudly on the sidewalk, and even with the traffic and other people moving about, she stands out as a force that refuses to blend in. She walks right ahead of us, a large Dooney and Bourke purse in the crook of her arm and the doors open without hesitation, allowing her entry.
My heart flips once, then twice, as my legs turn to jello and she disappears beyond the black glass. Lydia mumbles something incoherently, gripping my arm and making me nearly topple over. “That was Julie Rays! Julie!” she squeals.
I stare back at her, bewildered. I should know that name. I should know everyone on set. It was my job at the agency to know anyone worth knowing in this industry. But for the life of me, my mind is blank. I force a smile and nod my head as Lydia gathers her composure. Her smile is infectious; her confidence, her everything.
Julie Rays. I say her name in my head over and over. “Oh, shit. Julie Rays.” It finally clicks and my eyes widen as I search beyond the glass for her figure, but she’s gone. Julie’s an up-and-coming actress. The star of not one, but two new top-rated shows on television last year. I should have recognized her in a heartbeat. She’s one of the hottest actresses right now and she just walked past me only a few feet away.
“Oh my God, do you think she’s on the same set?” I ask Lydia, who lets a sly smile slip onto her face. We don’t know a single thing about the stars of the show. To control publicity, NDAs are standard before shooting begins.
“Don’t leave me,” I tell Lydia as she starts to move toward the building. The request comes out in a single breath and more like a desperate question than anything else.
“There’s no way I’m letting you go anywhere without me,” she says with a wink and pulls me toward the doors. Lydia doesn’t even break her stride as the doorman pulls the all-glass door wide open and tips his head to greet her.
My feet move in unison with Lydia’s pace as I take in the expansive lobby. The high ceilings make the ambient sounds echo in the large room. To the right side is an open-concept restaurant and I only take a quick glance. There are high-end shops on my left and an enormous fountain in the very center. Just beyond, there’s a large mahogany desk that spans the length of the open lobby. The reception desk. Right where we’re headed.
One of the four women behind the desk looks up at us with a smile, her platinum blonde hair pulled back tightly into a high bun. Everyone in here oozes wealth and sophistication.
“You’re fine,” Lydia whispers to me and her voice makes me turn to her. “If you could stop gripping me like you’re about to float away, I’d appreciate it,” she says.
I instantly let go of her arm.
It’s just that … I’m intimidated. There’s no other way to put it. I’m terrified I’m going to fail. That I’ll ruin this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
“You’re seriously going to do fine,” Lydia says, practically reading my mind as we come to a stop in front of the desk.
Before I can even utter a response, she’s already moved on and is giving our names to the receptionist, Alexis, or so it says on the shiny silver tag above her shirt pocket.
“And how can I help you, Miss Parker?”
“We’re here for filming with Mr. Stevens,” Lydia says and adds, “The fifteenth floor, I believe.” Her soft smile and elegance speak of confidence and certainty. Sure enough, the receptionist nods and reveals key cards, swiping them in something I can’t fully see next to her computer.
I swallow the lump in my throat and look around the large lobby, watching as the men and women, each dressed in varying degrees of wealth, move across the tiled marble. The ceiling is domed and so high I have to crane my neck to see the etched designs along the coffered ceiling.
I wonder if they can tell I’m a girl from outside the city. One of the ones who stares out of her window at night and memorizes each building that’s lit up off in the distance. No one special, and destined to stay in the same town where I grew up.
My mother insisted that a college degree wasn’t necessary. She loved having me work with her in the corner shop selling secondhand antiques and collectibles. I did it for years, but going to school was a chance to get closer to the bright lights of the city. Every year inching nearer, but knowing within four short years I’d be right back in the suburbs, working at my mom’s shop and making her proud.
One day, I’m just a marketing student. The next, I’m taking an inte
rnship under Nancy Welsh, a well-known agent.
I shouldn’t have applied; all it did was upset my mother, who didn’t understand, and pulled me closer to a life I didn’t think I was supposed to lead.
Within two weeks, I was practicing line readings with a client and up-and-coming actress, Lydia Parker, sweet and seemingly unassuming. But Lydia is cunning, and she knows the ways of this industry. It wasn’t an accident that we were practicing lines in the coffee shop that the director, Stevens, frequented. What Lydia wants, Lydia gets.
I guess him catching sight of me makes me a happenstance of sorts. I’m just a minor character, but still, it’s more than I ever thought I’d be.
I almost turn my head, tearing my eyes away from the abstract stone sculptures on either side of the elevator when I hear Lydia thank the receptionist. I almost carry on, allowing myself to move through the motions of something I only dared to imagine.
But my eyes catch sight of a man as he enters an elevator. His thin, brown, worn leather jacket is pulled tightly across his broad shoulders as he walks.
My heart stops beating. The chatter and faint sounds turn to white noise. It can’t be him. I tell myself over and over. My lips part and I nearly take a step forward, mostly from disbelief. My hand instantly reaches behind me for Lydia, but I’m not aware if it’s even her. I just need something to grab onto in order to stay grounded.
I recognize him by the way he moves. The way his hand slips into the back pocket of his dark blue jeans and pulls out the necessary card. I know it’s him before he even turns around. The sharp jawline is new, accompanying an older version of the boy I used to know. But his eyes I would know anywhere. The darkness that swirls, the chill in his gaze, yet the heat it brings me. They hold me captive, make me weak, make me crave the way things were before I lost him.
Nathan Hart.
There’s a secret, a dark past between us. Something I’ve tried to ignore and pretend never happened. It’s what tore us apart and even though I’ve accepted what occurred and my part in it, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay.
Time is a bitch. It slows and seems to stay still, refusing to move or to let me respond with anything but disbelief. I wish I hadn’t been looking toward the elevator doors as they start to close, taking him away from me. But I am and as they slowly close, his eyes drift to mine. I’m caught in his stare. Unmoving and trapped by fate as his eyes widen slightly with recognition.
Then time continues, sure that I’ve seen him and he’s seen me, certain that it’s destroyed me in this moment. And I’m released, turning from the doors as quickly as I can.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
But I know I saw him and he saw me.
And that changes everything.
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CLICK HERE to keep reading Second Chance!
SNEAK PEEK OF IMPERFECT
From USA Today bestselling author W Winters comes an emotionally gripping romantic suspense.
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It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at a man and wanted something more.
Even longer since one has looked at me with a gaze that I couldn’t tear my eyes from.
* * *
One look and I was tempted; one taste and I was addicted.
No one is perfect, but that’s how it felt to be in his arms.
I started to think everything was going to be alright. That life had finally put the pieces of my broken heart back together.
* * *
Fate may have brought us together, it’s a pretty little thought my poetic mind had.
But there’s no doubt that the sins of his past would tear us apart.
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“Reading this book leaves you with raw feelings and can break your heart. A very intense love story packed in one single book.” Andrea, early review
PROLOGUE
Don’t let them see.
Her words echo in my head as I stalk toward the quiet bedroom. She whispered them against my lips last night. The cool air slipped between us as she broke our kiss and slowly opened her eyes in the dark of the night.
The street light shined down around us on the back porch of her place on the Upper East Side. The city life slept quietly so late at night, or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it. Only the sinners like us were left awake.
Don’t let them see. She left me with the parting plea and here I am… giving into her wish.
I’ve never crept through anyone’s back door so late at night. Not once in my life have I had to sneak around like this.
I don’t want to keep doing this shit, but here I am. What the hell has this woman done to me? I’m wrapped around her little finger.
It’s because she’s ashamed. I know that’s why she doesn’t want people to know we’re together. Not just a fling, not a rebound fuck. There’s something more to us now, but she doesn’t want the world to know.
The floorboards creak under my weight and I hesitate in the doorway, the dim lamp from the hall filling the dark room with a hint of light. It’s her place and her neighbors aren’t going to hear, but I don’t want to disturb her.
It’s obvious she’s sleeping, but she stirs beneath the silk duvet until finally she opens her eyes and sees me. She tilts her head to the side as she looks at me, burying her cheek into the pillow, a soft smile playing on her lips.
“I missed you,” she says and her voice is laced with an equal mix of sleep and lust.
If only she knew the real reason I crave her touch. The reason I’m so tempted to break all my rules.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I tell her in a deep, rough voice as I start unbuttoning my shirt. A smirk turns the corners of my lips up as her eyes sparkle with humor. She doesn’t care when I come and go, so long as I lie in her bed at night, or she in mine.
Her doe eyes stare back at me while I slip off the button up and let it pool into a puddle at my feet. I yank my tight white undershirt over my head and look back to see those lush lips parted.
She likes what she sees. My muscles ripple as I let the tank drop to the floor, the moonlight bathing the room and the two of us in a faint glow.
She may want to keep this a secret, but she fucking wants me and she can’t hide it. I’ve become addicted to the way she looks at me like she needs to touch me to stay grounded, just as she needs to breathe air to survive. I’ve learned to crave the faint sounds of her quickened breath as she waits for me to come to her. As if she’d die without me.
I’m slow to unbuckle my belt as my eyes roam down her curves. She’s mine to take. Mine to touch. Mine to keep.
If it were up to me, I’d take her ass outside and into the middle of the busy city street to show the world that she belongs to me now. I don’t want to sneak around anymore and I don’t give a shit who knows. I’m tired of this bullshit.
The anger boils in my blood as I grip my leather belt tighter, making it sing in the air as I pull it through the loops and drop it to the floor with a loud clack. All the while my gaze is on her gorgeous eyes, and she’s staring back at me with the same desire as I have for her.
The past is over and done. No one will ever know what really happened -- not her, not anyone.
“Mason,” she practically whimpers my name and it pulls the beast in me closer to her. My knee dips into the bed, making it groan with my weight as I crawl over to her.
Her soft blue eyes pierce through me, cutting through the dark room. More of the soft lighting from the city slips into the room as the heat kicks on and the curtains sway. The way the light kisses her skin as she pushes the duvet away makes her all the more beautiful.
She’s laid out for me. All for me. She fucking needs me.
I crush my lips to hers and dig my fingers into the flesh of her hips as she spreads her thighs for me. Her soft moans fill the hot air between us.
She’s ashamed to be moving on so quickly. Especially with a man like me. I wasn’t made for a woman like her. I’m someone who could tarnish her sterl
ing reputation and make the crack in her picture-perfect frame splinter even deeper. To say I’m rough around the edges is putting it lightly, but I have what it takes to keep her.
We both know this was supposed to be a one-time thing. But now, I want more.
She thinks she’s ruined, but she’s fucking perfect. It’s my sins and my secrets that could destroy us both. I’ll never let them come to light. Not now that I have something worth fighting for.
She doesn’t know it yet, but I won’t stop until she’s mine.
She needs to get over it and just accept this for what it is.
She’s fucking mine now.
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CLICK HERE to keep reading Imperfect (Imperfect Duet book 1)!
ABOUT WILLOW WINTERS
Thank you so much for reading my romances. I’m just a stay at home mom and avid reader turned author and I couldn’t be happier.
I hope you love my books as much as I do!
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