Suzanne was drowning in pleasure
She had the cold counter at her back and a hard, warm Ryan at her front and sheâd never felt so hot in her life. The shadows lent to the intimacy, which threatened to overwhelm her.
âThis is just what we said, right? No more, no less,â she said on a gasping breath.
âSex.â Ryanâs deep voice sent another thrill through her.
âJust sex. And when weâre doneâ¦â
âWeâre done,â he finished. Was she imagining things or did he sound skeptical, as though he didnât believe what heâd just said?
âRight. Itch scratched.â She was panting now, and so was he.
âRight.â
For the longest moment he just looked at her, her dark and beautiful man. Then he groaned, pulled her even closer and she melted against him. His mouth was so firm, and so deliciously demanding, she couldnât help but sink into the mindlessness of it, needing the mindlessness of it. He had a wonderful mouth, a make-her-forget-everything mouth, and he knew just what to do with it to make her wild.
And she intended on getting very, very wildâ¦.
Dear Reader,
Iâm so excited about this book, as itâs the first in my three-book Temptation miniseries SOUTH VILLAGE SINGLES. I loved the idea of writing a series about three friends who make a vow of singlehood. And I started thinking about the sexy, irresistible men who could tempt them to break that vow. Just what kind of man would it take to break a vow between friendsâespecially since weâre talking about strong, independent women! Guess youâll have to read on to find out.
I hope you enjoy reading Suzanneâs storyâand have fun with her as she tries so hard to resist the very charming Ryan. Be sure to catch Nicoleâs story in Tangling With Ty available in February, and Taylorâs story, Messing With Mac, available in March, as all three of them fall hard and fast in the most unexpected waysâ¦.
Happy reading,
Jill Shalvis
P.S. I love to hear from readers! You can reach me through my Web site www.jillshalvis.com or by writing me at P.O. Box 3945, Truckee, CA 96160-3945.
SUZANNE CARTER glanced between the apartment-for-rent ads and the balance in her checkbook. No matter how much she squinted, added or subtracted, she was pretty much S.O.L.
With what she had, sheâd be fortunate to get a place that had four walls and a roof, never mind such luxury items as hot water and a bathtub.
And yet, anything would be better than where she currently lived, which was nowhere. As of this morning, her fiancéâex-fiancé, she reminded herself, her very ex-fiancéâhad politely stacked her things outside the apartment theyâd shared. Honest to God, sheâd thought heâd been kidding.
Until her key hadnât worked. Seemed the joke was on her. Damn if the joke wasnât always on her.
In any case, sheâd finally realized the truth. She was relationship cursed. If she hadnât been, then she could blame any one of her other ex-fiancésâthere had been three in total, not that she was countingâfor the relationship failures, but the fault was hers alone. She seemed to possess the single-handed ability to destroy a good man. Sheâd destroyed Tim to the point heâd cried every night, wanting her to talk about her feelings, begging her to open up. Sheâd felt horrible, but deep down she knew she didnât want a man who also cried at long-distance commercials and when he talked to his mother on the phone. Daily.
Not that Tim hadnât helped commit their relationship to doom by getting caught performing sexual gymnastics against the front door with his cleaning lady. But heâd pinned that on Suzanne as well, saying his heart had been so broken by her distance and lack of commitment that heâd needed the release.
Uh-huh.
This latest relationship disaster only confirmed in her own mind that she was cursed. And so, as of this moment, she was vowing to give up men to save them from herself. Too bad no one could save her from these dismal rental listings. Maybe she should have fought for the apartment, but she no longer wanted it. With a sigh she lifted her red pen and circled the very cheapest ad in the paper she could find. Thatâs right, get thrifty, she could hear her mother say with approval. And regimented.
Everyone said Suzanne needed some regimentation. Well, everyone but her father, from whom sheâd gotten her âlack of.â Just ask her mother.
The ad sheâd circled boasted a cheap, cheap, cheap one bedroom/one bathroom walk-up. Cheap, cheap, cheap sounded right up Suzanneâs alley, given that, one, she was currently homeless with no savings, and two, contrary to popular belief, chefs made next to nothing. Home Sweet Home, she thought, she hoped, and got in her car.
Being a Monday, South Village was hopping in a way she still couldnât get used to. When sheâd been young, the area, just outside of Los Angeles, had been little more than an outdated, neglected area of commerce, the buildings all falling apart, the homeless camping on the corners. Then some historical committee had come along, and the next thing Suzanne knew, the place had incorporated and rebuilt itself, creating a delightful cosmopolitan area that people came from all over to visit.