Despite having his pick of projects, heartthrob Cole Anderson stuns Hollywood by turning down a new blockbuster in favor of a web serial, of all things. But only if Georgia gets the female lead. She needs the money; he needs a chance to apologize…and maybe get reacquainted with the one who got away.
But life in the limelight often reveals things best kept hidden, and Georgia has a secret that may force her to choose between the career she’s trying to rebuild—and the man she’s learning to love all over again.
“Anderson. My office. Now.” Ethan stormed down the glass-walled hallway before Cole could say anything else to the receptionist. His expression was decidedly stormy, and Cole felt his hackles rising when faced with the obvious aggression of the other man.
“Is there a problem?” He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, but he wasn’t feeling casual. He didn’t like being challenged, didn’t like the lack of control he felt when he lost. Probably because of how often he’d actually been out of control in his wilder days.
Back when he’d been with Georgia.
“There’s something.” Ethan gestured to his office with one arm. “Let’s go have a chat.”
Cole eyed the other man narrowly, but nodded and followed Ethan away from the front desk.
“So what’s with the theatrics?” Cole noted that Kevin Hawke, the hot new director who was supposed to be in on this meeting as well, wasn’t in Ethan’s office. His spidey senses were tingling—something was off.
“You haven’t heard?” Ethan arched an eyebrow, then grinned, but the expression was sinister and Cole didn’t care for it.
“Spit it out, Black.” His voice was flat. The only big event in his life recently was the breakup with Regina, and Cole highly doubted that Ethan gave a shit about that.
Ethan rubbed his hand over his face and pulled out his phone. “So how’s that girlfriend of yours?”
“I don’t know.” Cole glanced at Ethan from the corner of his eye. It was a weird question—usually the producer was all business. “We broke up.”
“I’m not surprised.” Ethan swiped his screen and smirked. He held up his phone, the screen facing Cole, and turned up the volume.
A chorus of moans and the wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh emanated from the small device. Cole would have rolled his eyes at Ethan—why was the producer showing him porn, anyway?—except something about the scene caught and held his attention.
A leanly muscled young man mounted a slender woman from behind. His hands fisted in her chestnut waves as he slowly fucked in and out of her, the curves of her ass jiggling every time he bottomed out inside of her.
Cole didn’t have much need for porn—he had women clamoring for his attention day and night. Still, he felt his cock start to thicken as he watched the scene playing out.
Christ, he was acting like a fucking teenager. Shifting uncomfortably, he redirected his focus to the hotel room surrounding the couple. Opulent, cream-colored satin sheets on a massive bed, a chandelier overhead, a panoramic sheet of glass in place of a wall…
“I know that hotel.” The Kingston Oceanside had once been one of his favorite places to party and then crash. He hadn’t been there in years.
“Gee, you think?” Ethan cackled as he tilted the phone to watch with Cole, who frowned as the couple of the bed shifted position. Ringing started to reverberate loudly in his ears as the man onscreen pulled out of the woman’s heat, turning her over so that she lay on her back, her inner thighs braced on his shoulders as he thrust himself back inside of her.
“Look at the camera, baby. Show everyone how pretty you are.” The woman did as she was told, moaning as she let her head hang off the side of the bed. Delicate, china-doll features, long waves of minky hair, miles of creamy skin that he’d know anywhere.
And that voice. The voice encouraging her to show off.
It was his own fucking voice.
“What the ever-loving fuck, Ethan?” This was what the reporters outside had mentioned. He just hadn’t known what they were talking about. “Where the hell did you get your hands on this?”
“Is there a problem?” He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, but he wasn’t feeling casual. He didn’t like being challenged, didn’t like the lack of control he felt when he lost. Probably because of how often he’d actually been out of control in his wilder days.
Back when he’d been with Georgia.
“There’s something.” Ethan gestured to his office with one arm. “Let’s go have a chat.”
Cole eyed the other man narrowly, but nodded and followed Ethan away from the front desk.
“So what’s with the theatrics?” Cole noted that Kevin Hawke, the hot new director who was supposed to be in on this meeting as well, wasn’t in Ethan’s office. His spidey senses were tingling—something was off.
“You haven’t heard?” Ethan arched an eyebrow, then grinned, but the expression was sinister and Cole didn’t care for it.
“Spit it out, Black.” His voice was flat. The only big event in his life recently was the breakup with Regina, and Cole highly doubted that Ethan gave a shit about that.
Ethan rubbed his hand over his face and pulled out his phone. “So how’s that girlfriend of yours?”
“I don’t know.” Cole glanced at Ethan from the corner of his eye. It was a weird question—usually the producer was all business. “We broke up.”
“I’m not surprised.” Ethan swiped his screen and smirked. He held up his phone, the screen facing Cole, and turned up the volume.
A chorus of moans and the wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh emanated from the small device. Cole would have rolled his eyes at Ethan—why was the producer showing him porn, anyway?—except something about the scene caught and held his attention.
A leanly muscled young man mounted a slender woman from behind. His hands fisted in her chestnut waves as he slowly fucked in and out of her, the curves of her ass jiggling every time he bottomed out inside of her.
Cole didn’t have much need for porn—he had women clamoring for his attention day and night. Still, he felt his cock start to thicken as he watched the scene playing out.
Christ, he was acting like a fucking teenager. Shifting uncomfortably, he redirected his focus to the hotel room surrounding the couple. Opulent, cream-colored satin sheets on a massive bed, a chandelier overhead, a panoramic sheet of glass in place of a wall…
“I know that hotel.” The Kingston Oceanside had once been one of his favorite places to party and then crash. He hadn’t been there in years.
“Gee, you think?” Ethan cackled as he tilted the phone to watch with Cole, who frowned as the couple of the bed shifted position. Ringing started to reverberate loudly in his ears as the man onscreen pulled out of the woman’s heat, turning her over so that she lay on her back, her inner thighs braced on his shoulders as he thrust himself back inside of her.
“Look at the camera, baby. Show everyone how pretty you are.” The woman did as she was told, moaning as she let her head hang off the side of the bed. Delicate, china-doll features, long waves of minky hair, miles of creamy skin that he’d know anywhere.
And that voice. The voice encouraging her to show off.
It was his own fucking voice.
“What the ever-loving fuck, Ethan?” This was what the reporters outside had mentioned. He just hadn’t known what they were talking about. “Where the hell did you get your hands on this?”
Lauren Hawkeye
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New York Time and USA Today bestselling author Lauren Hawkeye never imagined that she’d wind up telling stories for a living… though when she looks back, it’s easy to see that she’s the only one who is surprised. Always “the kid who read all the time”, Lauren made up stories about her favorite characters once she’d finished a book… and once spent an entire year narrating her own life internally. No, really. But where she was just plain odd before publication, now she can at least claim to have an artistic temperament.
Lauren lives in the Rocky Mountains of Alberta, Canada with her husband, two young sons, pit bull and two idiot cats, though they do not live in an igloo, nor do they drive a dogsled. In her nonexistent spare time Lauren can be found knitting, reading anything she can get her hands on, or sweating her way through spin class. She loves to hear from her readers! THINGS YOU DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT ME: -I am addicted to Pinterest -I like to change my hair color -I hate having my picture taken -I have two tattoos and want more! -my favorite food is lasagna -I am obsessed with knitting (I collect yarn… but only the good stuff!) -I love canning in the summer… making jam, preserving peaches, things like that -I like making soap from scratch, and don’t use store bought anymore -basically any DIY, I’ll attempt -my favorite colors are green, pink and red -my favorite movie is Stranger Than Fiction -I have a major sweet tooth -my favorite present last Christmas was an aromatherapy diffuser -I frequently get depressed because the TV shows Firefly and Buffy are over |
Suzanne Rock
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A lifetime New Englander, Suzanne married her college sweetheart and has been with him for over twenty years. Every summer she drags her husband and two daughters to Maine on a quest for the perfect lobster dinner. Every fall she can be found down in Foxboro, Massachusetts cheering on her favorite football team. In between those trips, she’s a chauffeur, a maid, a chef, an event planner, a hairdresser, a wardrobe stylist, a tutor and a sometimes masseuse. To keep her sanity, she often drinks copious amounts of coffee and stares at the blank screen of her laptop, dreaming of great adventures. Sometimes she even writes them down for others to enjoy.
Suzanne is represented by Deidre Knight of The Knight Agency and writes mainstream romances under the pen name Ava Conway. |
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Thanks for having the qiveaway sounds like a great read.
ReplyDeleteThanks for having the qiveaway sounds like a great read.
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