As heiress to a media empire Alessandra Sinclair was raised to put family obligations first. But everything changes the night her first love walks back into her life and turns her whole world upside down. Haunted by the memories of a secret romance with a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, she can't seem to get Hudson Chase out of her mind. Once again torn between two worlds, Allie must decide how much she’s willing to risk to have the love she’s always longed for.
Ten years is a long time to wait, but billionaire Hudson Chase didn’t become CEO of one of the country’s fastest growing companies by giving up on what he wants. Now that he’s got Allie in his sights again, he’s determined to make her regret breaking his heart. And this time, he’s going to make damn sure he’s not so easy to forget.
Excerpt:
Allie reached for her lemon drop martini, her second of the night, and licked a bit of sugar from the rim. The tangy beverages were going down much too smoothly. If she didn’t get some food in her stomach, she’d be paying the price come morning. The last thing she needed was to roll into work with a hangover. “We should order.”
Harper took a generous sip of something called a Strawberry Blonde and grabbed a menu off the marble tabletop. She flipped through the small leather binder, bypassing the extensive wine list in favor of colorful drinks with elaborate descriptions. “Oh!” Her eyes grew wide. “How about a Sucker Punch?
“I meant something more along the lines of dinner, but what the hell.”
Harper craned her neck, searching for the waiter she’d been flirting with all night. She startled when he was suddenly at her side.
“Can I bring you ladies another round?” he asked. Allie had to admit he was a bit of a doll. Big brown eyes with lashes that wouldn’t quit, dark hair a little longer than most, and a smile to make you forget what you were going to order. At least that was the effect he seemed to be having on Harper.
Allie came to her rescue. “Two Sucker Punches, please.” As soon as he was out of earshot she jumped on the chance to tease her tongue-tied friend. “Harper Hayes, speechless. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“Oh, shut up,” Harper grumbled. Her cheeks were rosy pink as she reached for her glass. “He just caught me off guard, that’s all. They should tell him not to sneak up on people like that.” She finished off the rest of her cocktail and plucked the strawberry garnish from the edge of the glass. Allie could almost see the wheels turning as Harper regained her composure. “I’m going to give him my number,” she announced.
The waiter returned a few minutes later with two oversize hurricane glasses on his tray. The size alone assured Allie the drinks would live up to their name, but when she tried a sip she knew she was in trouble. The fruity concoction was far too delicious considering the pleasant buzz she was already feeling. She stirred the drink with her straw, watching in awe as Harper jotted her number on a napkin and slipped it into the waiter’s hand. Allie shook her head. She could never be as daring as Harper. Then again, she’d had a pretty daring afternoon.
Images filtered through her mind. Hudson’s body pinning hers against the mirror . . . his warm breath fanning out across her neck . . . his fingers teasing and taunting before sending her spiraling over the edge . . .
“So what’s the real scoop with you and Mr. Hottie from the party?” Harper asked as if reading her wayward thoughts.
Allie tried to hide her blush behind her glass, needing a moment to regroup before once again denying any interest in the man who’d brought her to orgasm during her lunch hour. In a dressing room. At Macy’s. Dear lord. She tipped the glass higher, practically gulping her cocktail.
“He seems like a man who knows his way around a bedroom and would be more than happy to give you a tour.”
Allie choked on her drink.
Harper sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh my God, you slept with him.” It was a statement, not a question, and one Allie knew there was no point in denying. The proof was all over her face, not to mention spilled half way down her blouse.
She wiped her chin with the back of her hand. “A little louder, Harper. I don’t think the valet heard you.”
“Sorry. It’s just . . . I don’t know, you’ve always been so reserved. You’re not exactly the type to get down and dirty with someone you just met.”
“We didn’t just meet.”
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A B O U T TH E A U TH O R S
Ann Marie Walker writes steamy books about sexy boys. She’s a fan of fancy cocktails, anything chocolate, and 80s rom-coms and her super power is connecting any situation to an episode of Friends. If it's December she can be found watching Love Actually but the rest of the year you can find her at AnnMarieWalker.com. Ann Marie attended the University of Notre Dame and currently lives in Chicago.
Amy K. Rogers writes contemporary romance about sexy, alpha men. She loves good wine, cheese of any variety and finding hidden speakeasies. On a rare quiet night she can be found watching old James Bond films. After living in San Francisco for 20 years followed by a short stint in Oregon, Amy recently relocated back to the beaches of Los Angeles.
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