That’s why the last small wedding we’re hosting will be our own.
Dakota’s mother, sisters and brother will drive down from Chicago for the event. I’ve never met them in person, but I already feel like part of the family thanks to many Zoom calls and long conversations over the past several months. After all, as much as I love Dakota, being with one person for so many months is a test of any relationship. The rest of the Wilsons have been welcoming and wonderful.
I have a real family, at last.
My struggles are no longer mine alone to contend with. I have people to help me get through—just as I work my ass off to support them. It feels good to be rooted in the world instead of floating through life untethered to anyone or anything.
And at the center of my world is the man in my arms. Dakota, whose dreams brought him to my arid state and made him fall in love with both the rugged landscape and the woman who inhabits it. Together, we will make our own family and forge our own future.
“So, Sadie Banes, have you decided whether you’d like to become Sadie Wilson?”
It’s what he wants. But he knows that whether to take his last name is my decision, and I have been on the fence. After all, my last name is the only connection I have to my birth family. While there’s probably no healing that wound, it’s also hard to give up a part of my identity.
“I’d be honored, Dakota,” I whisper. “As long as I can still keep my original last name, too.”
He grins. I’ve pleased him, which pleases me, too. “Of course, Mrs. Banes-Wilson-to-be. Anything for you.” We exchange a long kiss. “Always for you.”
My name will soon be Sadie Banes-Wilson, and I am the luckiest woman in the entire world.
* * *
If you enjoyed Sadie’s story, don’t miss the rest of the Confined with the CEO and the Bodyguard Series:
* * *
Gabriela - available wherever eBooks are sold
Caitlyn - 3/17/21 - Preorder now
Naomi - 04/19/21 - Preorder now
* * *
Keep reading to find short excerpts from these sexy stories.
Acknowledgments
To Jackie Barbosa for friendship, beta reading and honest feedback, my heartfelt thanks. I could not ask for a better writing friend.
Charity Chimni, without your editorial guidance my work would remain a mess of typos. One day, I’ll remember to capitalize “T” in “T-shirt.” But probably no time soon. Your patience and contentiousness is deeply appreciated.
To Selena Blake at Ecila Media, your talents in creating the covers for this series are second to none.
My writing career would not be possible without the patience and forbearance of my husband and children. I am sorry the house is always such a disaster zone (but let’s face it, we know things won’t change now).
Readers - I would not be an author without you. Please take precautions to stay safe and healthy until the current pandemic passes.
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Excerpt: CONFINED WITH THE CEO & THE BODYGUARD: Gabriela
The CEO and the Bodyguard is a luxury erotic romance series. Each story features a CEO, a bodyguard, and the woman who brings them to their knees. If you like insta-lust and high heat, these MFM contemporary romance fantasies will leave you smiling...despite our lockdown reality.
Chapter One : Max
There are worse places to ride out a pandemic. That’s my first thought.
My new assignment is nowhere to be seen. Fifteen minutes ago, I entered a code on the gate and then a second set of numbers to get through the front door. Good security—I spotted cameras peeping out at me along the short drive up to the main house.
Inside, everything is white and gray with blue accents that are the same color as the ocean where I took my ex-wife on our honeymoon. It was fifteen years ago, now, but even though we didn’t last, the bright color makes me happy to see it. All the fixtures are gold. The effect is glamorous and feminine. You can tell immediately that she lives alone. No kids. No husband.
I set my serviceable black duffle bag on the tiled foyer beside a flimsy-looking brass-and-marble console table. On it is a tree hung with masks. Nice touch, I think, as I look around for the owner of the house.
Gabriela Ramirez. I recognize her name. She’s like the Latina Kim Kardashian—runs a makeup company, Gabi Beauty. But that isn’t why I know her. She used to be a model or something.
Although, isn’t that true of everybody in this town? Even though I live in Los Angeles, I don’t really keep up with the celebrity scene. It seems like everyone here is either an actor, an ex-actor, or trying to break into showbiz.
Except me. I’m just dumb old Max, good for punching the shit out of people who deserve it and not much else.
“Hello?” I call. My accented voice bounces off the marble and echoes up a big, curved stairway. In the center of the foyer is a huge crystal light fixture. It is not lit, but it sparkles anyway. I head into the next room, a living room with a large window overlooking the ocean. Wow.
There’s no place to sit down. The furniture is made of bent sticks. I think it’s called wicker. It looks too delicate to hold up the ass of a giant like me. I’m six-foot-three and two hundred pounds. I crush skulls for a living.
Okay, not really. Mostly, security work is boring—
“You must be Max,” a woman’s voice says behind me. I whirl. A decorative gold basket full of glass balls goes flying onto the rug. None break, to my relief. I gather them awkwardly, stick them back on the coffee table, and tug my suit straight as I go to meet my temporary employer, who then says, “Or are you Ari?”
“Max,” I say gruffly. “Ari will be here as soon as his COVID-19 test results come back.”
I look up. My heart stops.
Gabriela is barefoot. She stands at the bottom of a stairway wearing nothing but a silky pink robe over matching pajama pants. Her blond hair is piled casually on top of her head. A couple of tendrils spill out over her shoulders. There’s a half-inch of dark hair at the roots—it’s clearly dyed, but I don’t care. I’m a sucker for brown-eyed blondes, and Ms. Ramirez is gorgeous. Her skin glows like polished amber and her light caramel eyes are lined with deep ocher and heavy mascara.
“Excellent. I am in the middle of a conference call. We’re taking a five-minute break. I’ll show you to your room and you can settle in.” Her mouth might be plump and soft but the words coming out of it are wary and businesslike. It’s at odds with the generous curves of her breasts and hips. “Bring your bag.”
I hoist my belongings and follow her, feeling like a cold black shadow haunting her house of light and warmth. “I can sleep in the hallway on a cot, if it makes you feel safer.”
I’d sleep at the foot of her bed like a dog, if she asked me to.
She doesn’t smile, although there is quiet humor in her gaze when Ms. Ramirez does glance at me. “Thanks for the offer, but it shouldn’t be necessary. When you’re off-duty, you should take advantage of the amenities. There’s a pool out back, and a full gym in the basement. Under ordinary circumstances I work out there four days a week with my personal trainer, but now, well...” She sighs. “Nothing is normal anymore.”
“No, ma’am.”
This makes her chuckle. “Where are you from, Max?”
“Ukraine.” I’ve been in the United States for twenty years. My English is fine, but with my accent I sound like the villain in a Bond movie. I don’t like to talk much. I figure the world doesn’t need to hear my thoughts.
But it doesn’t mean I don’t have them.
Right now, I’m thinking about how Ms. Ramirez’s glorious curves would feel under my palms. It’s not often that I meet a woman I don’t feel as though I’d break in bed—especially not here, in Los Angles, where so many women starve themsel
ves thin. Just my luck, this incredible woman is off-limits.
It’s not like she’s in my league, anyway. That doesn’t stop my cock from trying to salute her as she shows me into a nice-sized guest room, though.
“This is where you’ll stay for the next six weeks.” The term of my contract, and Ari’s. Ms. Ramirez licks her lips. Up close, her skin is so soft and perfect. The thought of touching her zaps through me like an electric jolt. Not that I’ll ever be so lucky. I put my bag on the pristine bench at the end of the bed. This room is done in muted grays. The furniture is driftwood-gray, the curtains storm clouds held back with lighter ties—a more masculine, but still very decorated, version of the aesthetic downstairs.
“It’s nice,” I say, admiringly. It’s probably the nicest place I’ve ever been offered to sleep in. Better than any hotel, and I’ve been put up in some fancy digs as part of my job as bodyguard for hire. If I can avoid breathing for the next six weeks, I might even get through this without breaking every delicate, useless display item in her very expensive house. I am strong. I am not coordinated, which makes me a bull in this fucking China shop. Between trying to navigate through her decorations and keeping my hands and eyes where they belong—meaning off her body—the next six weeks are going to be a special kind of hell. I stick my hands in my pockets.
“I should get back to my call,” says Ms. Ramirez.
“Thank you, it’s nice,” I say again, inanely. Peeking out the window, I see why she gave me this room. It has a view of the gate and every vehicle coming or going. “Mind if I get the lay of the land while you’re working?”
She nods once. “You’re the expert.” Her tongue makes a brief appearance between her lips. It’s a crazy thing to want, but how incredible would it be to see her lipstick disappearing bit by bit as she sucked me down her throat? Imagining it, I almost miss what she says next. “If you see my ex-husband, I want you to kill him on sight.”
“Sure,” I say. “No problem.”
Ms. Ramirez looks startled, as though she can’t tell whether I’m serious.
It really isn’t. I’ll cheerfully dispatch her ex if he shows up. It’s why she hired me.
I continue my inspection of the room, expecting her to go. Oh, there’s a private bathroom, too. Very nice, indeed.
“I mean it,” Ms. Ramirez says vehemently. “He was released from prison early because of this pandemic. It’s been ten years, but I don’t trust him not to come straight here and finish the war he tried to start the day I left him.”
She unties the robe and drops half of it open. My greedy gaze skims down her full breasts. She is wearing some sort of lacy bralette underneath. I imagine I can see a hint of her nipple and have to remind myself not to look. Then, my eyes lock on what she’s trying a to show me.
A scar.
My blood turns molten with fury. I know scars. I speak their language.
Ms. Ramirez’s ex-husband tried to kill her. Judging from the placement, he came damn near sliding a knife between her ribs, tearing through her right lung and up into her heart. I curse in my native tongue.
“Ten years ago, my husband promised me that the day he got out of prison he would come back and finish the job,” she says stoically. “Last week, he was released on good behavior because of the pandemic. He has an ankle monitor, but I don’t trust that to keep him away from me. That’s why you and Ari are here.”
The look she gives me is sorrow inflected with fear.
How dare her ex-husband hurt this incredible woman? I’ll give my life to protect her from harm. In that moment, the job changes from a simple assignment to a mission.
But I’m no good with words. I say again, “Sure. No problem.”
I hope she understands my meaning. My ex-wife said being married to me was like being shackled to a horny, uncommunicative rock.
Ms. Ramirez covers her luscious body. “I’m counting on you and your partner, Max. I need to get through the next six weeks alive. If he comes here, I can prove my ex is still a danger and have Carl put away forever. If he doesn’t, I’ll believe he’s changed and can live my life freely. Either way, I need you and Ari to keep him from coming within fifty yards of me. I hired you to keep me safe.” She chuckles sadly. “Even though now, none of us are really safe, are we?”
I shake my head. “No.”
We won’t be, not for a long time. I’m not a scientist but if I were smarter, and if I’d had different opportunities in life, I might have trained to be a doctor. Or, maybe a nurse. I like helping people. But I’m not smart. Only strong.
That is the service I sell. My body. My life to protect yours.
I can’t pound a particle into non-existence. But I can try to deny it a path to reproduce. I’ll take every precaution to keep from infecting her, or anyone else, for that matter.
And I can damn well kill Ms. Ramirez’s ex-husband with my bare hands if he dares to show his face in this beautiful home.
“I’ll let you settle in,” says Ms. Ramirez. “I need to get back.”
She pads away down the hallway to a double door, opens them, and closes both doors behind her.
As I say, there are worse places to ride out a pandemic than in the mansion of a gorgeous CEO. But there might be easier locations to keep my sanity in check.
Available wherever eBooks are sold.
Excerpt - CONFINED WITH THE CEO & THE BODYGUARD: KELSEY
Available for FREE on all platforms
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Chapter One : Kelsey
The email came through late on Thursday afternoon. Starting Monday, Harden Real Estate’s offices were closed indefinitely due to a virus that was rampaging through Manhattan. It had started elsewhere in the world and spread, unnoticed, for months. Hospitals were on the verge of being overrun with sick patients.
When there’s a military ship moored in the harbor, it’s hard to deny that your country feels like it’s two heartbeats away from a George Romano movie.
My in-person audition for a lead role in an upcoming film is probably canceled, but until I have formal notice, do you think I’m giving up on my dream?
No way in hell.
Top secret, the production assistant had insisted. I can’t send you a digital copy. This is a confidential project. I’d rolled my eyes, then rolled over, because this could finally be my breakthrough role. Even if I have to audition by video conference, I want it bad.
I’ll make it in showbiz no matter what. There’s nothing I love more than sinking into a character and making an audience feel. Tears. Anger. Hatred.
Yet I’m always being cast as the “Trophy Wife” or “Sister.”
This script is different. I had tingles when my agent described it to me. It could be my big break—the result of years of scrimping, saving, and working my way up the agent and acting ladder.
First, there had been small roles in minor theater productions. Then, I landed a couple of commercials. When those were dropped from circulation I lost the residual earnings I had relied on to pay rent.
I came so close to giving up once. I won’t do it again.
Since waiting tables isn’t really my speed—I don’t do perky and social—I got licensed as a real estate agent. My revenue is feast-or-famine, but my schedule is my own. Leasing overpriced Manhattan shoeboxes to recent transplants is my specialty. I work mostly weekends and on commission—or did, until the virus took out my income overnight.
If I have to quarantine on a movie set for weeks to land this part, so be it. But first, I have to show the director and producer that I can play it better than anyone.
That’s why I’m here, batting my eyelashes at the security guard. A beard pokes out from beneath a makeshift mask. I peer at his name badge and say, “Phil, it’ll take five minutes. I print the documents I need and I come straight back down. Promise.”
He scowls. His eyes dart to the discreet display of cleavage visible between the plackets of my cream silk blouse. I had rushed over from a showing. Two bedrooms, tw
o bathrooms, a balcony and a doorman for the bargain price of just five thousand dollars a month. They took it on the spot, fearing to risk seeing any other apartments. I have a check in my pocket which, after handing over my split to Harden, will cover my bills long enough to rehearse during lockdown. It was worth the effort of jamming my feet into the heels which are killing my arches and zipping up the pencil skirt that hugs my ass and shortens my stride.
“Technically the building isn’t closed until Monday,” I point out.
Phil stares me down. I briefly contemplate offering to suck his dick, but I am not sunk that low—yet. Besides, the idea doesn’t appeal. I like giving head, just not to random men.
I really do need that script though.
“Five minutes, Ms. James,” Phil huffs, but he scans his pass card to let me through the gate. All employee IDs have been disabled in an attempt to control the number of people coming in and out of the building.
“Thanks, Phil. I owe you.” I hustle through and blow him a kiss, forgetting about my own mask until I touch it. Not being stupid, I hit the up arrow with my elbow. My heavy purse falls down my shoulder. I hike it up with a grunt.
The elevator deposits me on the third floor. It’s where the executives are housed, including the CEO, Sam Harden. My desk is near his secretary’s. According to her, the only thing bigger than his cock is the size of his ego. I guess he’s earned it though, because Harden Real Estate has seen exponential growth over the past several years. She has no discretion at all, so I hear more than I should.
Like how he prefers young women. According to Brenda he’s a predator, but then, as far as I can tell, she thinks any attractive man is a threat. The one time I saw Sam he was on his way out of the building. Broad shoulders. Dark hair curling over the collar of his jacket. Bodyguard four inches behind him, max.
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