When Willow Stone discovers that she is in competition with the exotic and worldly Molina for the coveted position of sex advice columnist, she realizes it's time to up her game. Though she has impeccable writing skills, there's no denying that a lifetime of being the good girl has left her ill prepared for this position. Realizing it's her lack of experience that will keep her from achieving this dream, she decides to proposition the bad boy who once lived in her college dorm that always had a stream of women doing the walk of shame from his room on a nearly nightly basis. Surely someone that shallow, that experienced, and that wildly attractive could teach her a thing or twenty.
Only Wyatt has his own plans, and they don't allow much time for teaching Willow what she would already know if she could just break free of the cool, calculating, proper demeanor that was part of being a Stone. His reputation has served him well through the years and being the black sheep of his family has never bothered him. What does, however, is Willow. She is a mystery to unravel, a present to be cherished, a young woman who just might rock his world by bringing him back into his family's fold. She was everything they wanted for him and precisely what he had avoided since he started dating.
What will happen when the good girl gets mixed up with the bad boy?
ONLY 99 CENTS!!!!
“Where were we?”
“I think we had just established my sordid past and utter lack of experience,” I said sarcastically.
“Ah, yes,” he said as he tapped his finger on the counter. “Now, why is this experience so important to you?”
Confused, I tried to decide how to answer that. “I want this column so badly...” I shrugged. “It’s expected that I do something with my degree and fast. Stones aren’t burdens on society...” My voice trailed off.
“So, you are battling a lifetime of expectations and family lectures about your station in life?” He smirked. “I know a little something about that.”
Obviously, I let that go because...how could he possibly? Oh, but the house. “Who does the garage belong to...the one you live above?” Then I leaned over and waited patiently for a response.
“Ah, that inquiring mind. You don’t need a sex column; you need to be an investigative reporter.” He laughed. “Yeah, it’s my parents’.” He wiped down the bar before adding to it. “I’m an Evans.” Then he winked at me.
Apparently I was supposed to know what that meant and because of it, who he was. What I gathered was that it was like being a Stone. My heart went out to him. “So, you understand the dangers of not living up to expectations. Please understand, I don’t look at this column as anything more than a stepping stone in my career. I’m not sure where I want to take the degree, but I love writing. I love helping people. This meets all those criteria.”
For some reason, I didn’t want to see his face. I just wanted to think for a minute. He had struck a nerve. Why did I need that job? It would force me to stretch myself. There was something about a challenge. Then, there was sheer, utter, simple curiosity. I was the only one of my friends who was practically still a virgin. When we gathered together on holiday breaks, I was the one who never had a boyfriend, who never had sexcapades to relay, who sat back and tried to pretend to understand these foreign objects and experiences they talked about. I hated it. Then I smiled. As I stared in front of me, another piece of my phone had appeared.
“Can I see the list?” He asked seriously.
Shaking my head, I refused. “No. It’s too...humiliating.”
“Dammit woman, I can look it up online, but it’s just easier if you share the print copy. Okay?” He scowled at me for a moment. Then as I pushed the paper toward him, he smirked. After studying it for a moment, he looked up at me. “One night stand?”
“Nope. I knew them. It was a date. It just never went beyond that.” I stared at him evenly, trying not to give away any emotion.
“Did you like them?” He asked. “Either of them?”
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Not really. I just felt like...it was time. There wasn’t a crush, a bunch of love letters, phone calls, any of that. The first was prom. And for lack of a better defense, everyone was doing it.” I let out a hollow laugh. “The second, was a house party after graduation.”
“Drunk?” He asked, perplexed.
“No, but he was. This one was someone that my family approved of and had been pushing me toward for years. I just kind of gave in.” I sighed. “Does any of this make sense?”
“Honestly, no. I can’t understand how someone as beautiful as you could possibly think of settling for less than every single thing she deserved. Forget about your parents. What do you want?” He stood there, challenging me.
It was no longer about the phone, no longer about the game of Truth or Truth. I had to answer. We were really talking. “I’m not sure I know. I don’t know if my life has ever been about what I want.”
“What if we try to figure that out, together? And...what if I help you with this list?” He asked.
Without thinking, I walked toward him and wrapped my arms around his neck. Wyatt smiled down at me slightly. It was obvious he was wondering what I was doing, where this was going. Honestly, I didn’t know. It’s not like I planned this. All I knew was that at the moment, I had to be close to him, had to have my lips on his. There was something truly perfect about the way his hands fit on my lower back, something magical in his touch. Up until now, I hadn’t been able to put a name to that feeling. Nothing in life had prepared me for it. This was lust.
Capturing my lips with his, Wyatt groaned deep inside. The vibration went through me, tickling and shocking my lady parts awake. His hands roamed up and down my sides until the intensity of our kiss had him hauling my body as close to his as physics would allow. Again, I found myself melting into him, wanting all of him, more of him than I ever had before. My hands were in motion, one behind his neck, ensuring he could make no quick escape, the other felt the planes of his face, the angles of his jaw, until I had fingers knotted in his thick dark hair. Damn, he was good.
Ever so slowly, reluctantly even, he finally broke off the kiss. “Why?” I whimpered in confusion.
Gently he pried my hands from around his neck and held them in his. Kissing each hand affectionately, he gradually released me. “Twenty-nine,” he said, almost proudly.
“What?” I asked as I shook my head, trying to clear it enough for thought. The kisses had blinded me almost as much as he was blindsiding me with this.
“Your list,” he said simply. Then he turned and headed into the bathroom.
“My list.” Walking over to the counter, I found that fucking list, right where we left it. There it was...#29: Making out with no sex long after you’re no longer a virgin. I was really beginning to hate that list.
“Hey, doll,” he said in that easy way he had of unnerving me. Slowly he leaned over the bar after pulling up a drink he already had poured. “Cosmo?” He chuckled. “It was your new favorite last night.”
Frozen in place, I paused before speaking. Breathe, Willow. Head high, chin up, chest out. Stones don’t get thrown. That was a paraphrase. My mother never would have spoken so informally. Her advice was sound, though. I pasted a smile on my face and headed to the nearest bar stool, directly across from him. “Good evening, Wyatt,” I said smoothly. “It looks like you’ve been expecting me.” Then I reached for the drink and took a healthy, stabilizing swig.
“Maybe just a little,” he responded with his classic wink. “I mean, how long could a type A like you survive without this.” He patted his vest pocket and after glancing about conspicuously, he pulled it open just enough to reveal the phone secreted within.
I could feel a squeal rising in my throat, it was all I could do to control the sound, but nothing could keep me from diving over the bar with my arm outstretched as I reached for my phone. Naturally, he had simply taken a step back and away from me while stifling a laugh.
“Sorry, doll,” he said while shaking his head. “Nothing in life is that easy. You should know that by now.” His blue eyes stared at me intently.
My stomach was doing somersaults. All I wanted to do was get my phone and go...maybe finish my drink. Instead, he was holding me hostage with my phone. “So now what?” I tried to project this relaxed and confident demeanor, but much like before, in his presence, I was doing a poor job of it.
“Well, I thought we might play a game. You’re fun, right?” He laughed at his cleverness.
“Oh, yeah. I’m loads of fun, especially when I’m loaded...apparently. Again, I ask...now what?” My arms were crossed over my chest now. He was making me good and nervous.
Once again, he leaned over the bar, “Well, I thought I’d ask you some questions...instead of Truth or Dare, we’ll make up our own game...Truth or Truth. I’ll decide if you reveal enough with your response. If you do, with each answer, you earn back a piece of your phone.” He studied me, watching for a reaction.
It was my turn to be calm and collected. I met him on the bar. We were practically nose to nose, separated by my martini glass. Stirring it slowly, I made him wait on my reaction. Then I took the cherry from the rim and popped it into my mouth. After devouring it while he watched, his eyes intense and hungry, I smiled. I had no choice, really. Wyatt had my phone and seemed determined to mess with me. I refused to let him win. Instead, I exuded confidence. “Let’s play.”
What made her decide to be an erotica author?
How else was she going to parlay her two favorite past times into a career?
Emma is single and loving it. Like her first character, Alysin, Sin for short, she doesn't believe in settling or in settling down. She loves to indulge in her passions whenever the mood strikes and enjoys keeping all of life's cliche moments spicy.
Known for her sense of humor, Emma surrounds herself with friends whose antics often become the source of book fodder. Her ideal situation would be to explore the Caribbean while writing. She pursues that dream daily.