by A. m Madden
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Discover more Amara titles… Awk-Weird
Ruling the Princess
The Two-Date Rule
The Boyfriend Contract
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by A.M. Madden. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
10940 S Parker Rd
Suite 327
Parker, CO 80134
[email protected]
Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
Edited by Lydia Sharp
Cover design by Elizabeth Turner Stokes
Cover illustration by Torrenta Y/Shutterstock
ISBN 978-1-68281-544-1
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition March 2020
Dear Reader,
Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.
xoxo
Liz Pelletier, Publisher
To my three kings, you rule my world.
Chapter One
Jade
A wicked grin spread over my friend Amy’s face. “What you need is a hot, sweaty, writhing night of passion with a stranger…or two.”
“Sex with two strangers?” I squeaked, and despite the noise pollution around me, I still managed to catch the attention of the table next to ours. The four willing men all lifted their drinks of choice in a silent toast, as if their proximity would act as an audition for the roles.
“Well, I meant two different nights, one for each.” She laughed. “But if you want two men in one night…” She paused long enough to get a good look at our eavesdroppers, offering up a sexy wink before continuing, “Well, Jade, that wouldn’t be such a bad idea for someone like you.”
“Yeah, no.”
Amy shrugged casually, while I shot another embarrassed glance around us to see if anyone else had heard her suggestion. It wouldn’t have been hard, since we were packed into the place like sardines. This was so not my scene, drinking on a work night in a bar? I’d rather end my fourteen-hour days in sweats, binge-watching Friends on Netflix.
“How about I walk before I sprint?” I said. “Besides, my luck with relationships sucks.”
“Who said a relationship?” she asked, popping the p. “I’m talking a mindless affair.” Her eyebrows rose over the rim of her glass as she took a long sip of her cocktail.
“I don’t have time for that,” I mumbled.
“Shut it. Everyone has time for sex.”
Sex? I barely had time to enjoy my birthday properly. As the sea of fun-loving New Yorkers continued to drink their weight in top-shelf alcohol, I casually twisted my wrist to glance at the time.
I should be able to go out on a Thursday night and celebrate my birthday without worrying about the alarm that would beep without sympathy at seven in the morning. Or…that my head would pound like a jackhammer the next day because of the several Cosmos I consumed.
“So, I am boring then?” I repeated the question that started this discussion.
Her crystal blue eyes trained on my face as I waited for her to say, “No, of course not.” She didn’t.
That question had been clanging around in my mind since earlier today. Until then, denial had me existing in my dull little world while believing I was a kick-ass lawyer who couldn’t be stopped.
And then, one of the senior partners in my firm had the nerve to say that I was the most reliable, dedicated, levelheaded millennial he’d ever met. That was right before he asked me to join the firm’s chess team.
Chess? Really?
“We could use a gal like you on our team,” Mr. Warner had gone on to say before adding, “You work well with monotony. It’s a rare quality to possess, especially for someone of your age. This generation needs constant activity, excitement. But not you, no, you’re different…” He’d droned on and on, but I hadn’t heard another word because what he had already said spoke volumes.
Boring. I’m boring.
Mr. Warner and his partners founded Warner, Sicks, & Thompson almost thirty years ago. Known in the law industry as being tenacious dinosaurs who always won their cases, it was something I’d found endearing when I interviewed with them. I was one of six female attorneys they’d added to their staff after the senior partners decided to bring in “new blood” and a “fresh point of view”…otherwise known as ambitious women.
Regarding me, they took notice of my eager to take on the world attitude. I worked my ass off for the firm, and my motive was to make junior partner. No other woman had been able to bust through the glass ceiling since. Doing so would pave a golden road for the law career I dreamed of.
My success so far obviously came with a boring price tag. I have one friend—one…actually two, if you counted my sister. I’d never been out of the country. I spent my whole life within a fifty-mile radius from where I grew up in New Jersey. And because of my insane hours at work, I hadn’t been able to keep a relationship going for more than a few months, which meant sex was as rare in my life as it would be to find gold in the Hudson River.
So, when my friend continued to stare at me long and hard before her eyes scanned down my favorite charcoal gray suit, all the things I prided myself on suddenly felt like a noose around my neck.
“Is that rhetorical?” she finally asked.
“No,” I grumbled. The fact she took more than one second to respond worsened my mood.
“It’s not your fault that you’re boring. All work and no play do make for a boring life…and being a control freak doesn’t help, either.”
I released a frustrated sigh, exhausted with this conversation. “You know what? Forget it.”
“No, this proves my point about tonight,” she said determinedly. “You’ve been in a long drought, and a woman needs sex to keep the cylinders fired up, to clear those pe
sky crotch cobwebs. Did you know your vagina can fuse shut? I’ve read about it online.”
“That cannot happen.”
She gave me a nonchalant shrug. “Well, I wouldn’t chance it.” My friend, the squirrel, swung her gaze around the dimly lit bar and landed it on the table of good-looking men beside us.
Amy Delton, the erotic romance author, found said inspiration wherever she went. Actually, it found her. Best friends since grade school, Amy never quite hit the awkward teenage stage the rest of us had been plagued with. And now as an adult, with her ebony hair, pale blue eyes, and never-ending curves, she turned heads wherever we went.
Our lives couldn’t have been more opposite. As she jet-setted around the country to book signings and conferences, creating passion on the pages and living a close version in real life, I spent most of my time in a conference room or my office. The only hot affairs in my life were the kind I read about in my free time.
Hell, who was I kidding? I had no free time. The only reason I agreed to come here tonight was because it’s my birthday and she’d made it a priority to be in town to see me, despite her busy schedule.
“I like this place. Not only are the guys in here hot…” She thumbed to one of the very handsome bartenders and added, “So is the help. Great inspiration.”
My gaze swung to whom she referenced and caught on a gorgeous man behind the bar who was staring at me…
“I said…I could use a one-night stand myself,” Amy continued. “Having to catch a flight tomorrow is the perfect excuse to bolt before the awkwardness hits. Maybe the bartender.” Amy knocked her knuckles on the table. “Hello?”
“Oh, sorry. You were saying what I needed?” I steered her back to me before she could act on her nonchalant statement, and even if the chances were slim on getting some of my own action, I didn’t want her sabotaging my fantasy. But then another glance at the bar proved my chances were indeed slim when I noticed the bartender was now chatting with an attractive redhead.
“Oh, right. We’re talking about you being boring. So, as I said, you need one night of raunchy sex.” She bobbed her head in an exaggerated way, widening her eyes in a move that meant something sinister would come next. “Ooh, I know what to do!” Without warning, she slipped out of the booth and pushed through the crowd with many of the male eyes following her move.
Worried as to what she was up to, I focused on the professional twentysomething-year-olds that surrounded us, all still adorning their work attire. Actually, I fit in perfectly wearing my power suit…much more than Amy did in her tight skinny jeans and flimsy camisole. It was the unguarded expressions on their faces that set me apart. I probably appeared as uptight as I felt.
Amy returned with a smug smile. “Okay, done.”
Oh no. “Done what?”
“I entered you into that Kismet Karaoke contest they do here.” She snatched the flyer off the tabletop and thrust it at me. “It’s just what you need. Very not boring.”
With each word I read, panic bubbled within me. Five men and five women would be randomly coupled off before singing a karaoke song chosen for them, and the crowd would select a winner. My eyes again scanned the packed room. I found it hard to believe all these people were here for a chance to win five hundred bucks. Maybe witnessing the humiliation of the poor suckers chosen was what got their rocks off?
Holy hell, what did she do?
“Singing? With a stranger?” I hissed, my eyes bulging. “In front of all these people?”
“Chances are you won’t get picked. If you do, so what? You have a gorgeous voice. You’ll be just fine. Consider it my birthday gift to you.” She raised her brows and grinned. “And…the best part? You’ll have a one-night stand with your singing partner.” She waited a moment for it to sink in. “You’re welcome.”
“No way. You have officially lost your mind.” My accusation did nothing to wipe the grin off her face. “Amy, I’m not doing that. He could be a psycho.” She’s talked me into some crazy shit over the years, but this? “With my luck, I’ll end up murdered. I’d rather drown my sorrows in ice cream.” I snatched my purse, but before I could slide my ass along the worn vinyl bench, her ironclad grip landed on my wrist.
“Or…he could have a nine-inch dick, his own helicopter, and a fuck-pad on the Upper East Side, overlooking the park.”
“Yes, because the universe is just that kind.”
“It could happen.”
“Says the hopeless erotic romantic.”
She huffed. “You’re doing it! If it helps you feel any better, take a picture of the guy and send it to me for the police…you know, in case you go missing.” Leaning closer, she then said, “And his dick, too, if it is indeed nine inches.”
“You’re sick.”
I sighed at seeing her exaggerated eye roll. “Stop being so dramatic,” she said. “People have one-night stands all the time. Welcome to the twenty-first century, Jade. Why do you think swiping right exists? Think of it as therapy. You just spent the last hour feeling sorry for yourself. This is exactly what you need.”
When she was sure I wasn’t going anywhere, she finally released my wrist. “It’s your birthday, you deserve a fun time, and you’re going to get some in the way of a hot night of sexual debauchery. Plan A will be with a hottie who doesn’t mind singing in front of a crowd. Plan B will be someone of my choosing. You might be better off letting kismet control this night rather than me. Either way, this is going down, Jade. Got it? Or your pussy will most definitely shrivel up from underuse.”
“Amy…”
Before I could speak the argument already forming in my head, she said, “Just have some fun—otherwise we’re going to be here in ten years celebrating your thirty-seventh birthday and nothing will have changed in your life, except you’ll be even more boring by then.”
Well, when she said it like that… “Okay, fine. I’ll do it. But only because it’s my birthday and I deserve an orgasm from a man and not a toy as my present.”
“Or…one from a man as he uses the toy on you,” she amended with an exaggerated wink.
On a slow blink, I mumbled, “Yeah, I’m going to need another Cosmo to prepare for this.”
“That’s my girl. Let your hair down.”
I mindlessly removed the clip that held up my conservative bun.
“Good, now shake it out,” she said.
Like a robot, I followed her command as she flagged down a waiter and ordered our second round. He took our order with a dazzling smile and winked at her before heading to the bar.
Amy continued to prepare me for slaughter, unbuttoning my top button and dabbing lip gloss on my lips. “Perfect.”
When two fresh drinks replaced our empty glasses, I quickly raised my cocktail. “Boring this,” I said and drained it in an attempt to gain some courage through the icy pink liquid.
Chapter Two
Max
Brad: Max! Where the fuck are you?
I ignored the eighth text in as many minutes from my brother, knowing he was probably pacing by now. As if it wasn’t enough for me to agree to help him out and give up my only night off, he needed to bust my balls for arriving a few minutes late as well?
Down his main bartender, Brad asked me to step in on the busiest night of the month, and I agreed because I always do. I hadn’t learned the art of saying no. The upside, all the times I did help him out in a bind served to help me, too, since I’d be seeking payback someday. Although not as often as he needed me, there were times I called on him to help out at my gym.
So, instead of kicking back with a beer in my very comfy living room, there I was on my way to a torturous night serving loud drunken professionals for the next five or six hours, because I’m too nice.
While sitting in the cab, I dialed Tracey’s number to check in. Tracey and I had known each other since both attending Miami Universit
y. During our time there, we flirted a lot but never really crossed the line. She had a boyfriend when I was single. I was seeing someone when she was single. Timing never worked in our favor. Once we’d each graduated from college and I got back home to Long Island, we kept in touch. And then, during a recent trip to Miami this past February, she invited me over for dinner to celebrate the opening of my new gym. Lots of wine had been consumed, one thing led to another, and…stuff happened.
After that first night, we learned two things: one, the sex was good, and two, we really didn’t have feelings for each other in a romantic way. Thus began our friends-with-benefits connection whenever I was in Miami.
Then she met Tristan and fell head over heels for him within just a few dates. I couldn’t relate, but Tracey was never the impulsive type, so I trusted she truly had found her person. Obviously our tryst, although fun, was over as soon as Tristan entered her life.
But epically bad timing had her finding out only a few weeks later that she was pregnant with my child.
Irony at its best, huh?
The ringing stopped when Tracey finally picked up my call.
“Hi, Max,” she said in her usual cheerful tone.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
“Great. So far, I’m not as queasy as I was in my first trimester.” The cab pulled over, prompting me to slide my credit card to pay my fare.
“I’m glad to hear that. Do you need anything?” I asked, as I always did. “I’m flying down for a meeting tomorrow.”
While I climbed out of the taxi, she replied, “Nope, I’m good.”
“Okay. Let me know if you do. Whatever it is, please call me. I’ll be there in a flash.”
“You’re sweet, Max, but you have enough going on right now with bouncing between New York and Miami. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
I didn’t doubt that she was fine and recognized my regular check-ins had more to do with my own anxiety over having a baby. Still, it made me feel better doing so. “I’ll call once I’m there. Maybe we can grab dinner, and I can meet this guy who stole your heart.”
She giggled over the phone. “Tristan is traveling, but I guess I can meet you.”
