Missed Connection: I saw you standing there, and I was struck by your eyes. Gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as your smile.
Thanks to her job at a crazy New Age spa, what should have been a sizzling NYC summer is being hijacked by demanding hippie bosses. To unwind, Sarah spends her nights cruising Missed Connections, dreaming of finding an uber-romantic entry all about her. Of course, the moment she finds that Missed Connection, real life comes crashing down around her in a night of unbridled passion with someone completely different: totally off-limits Jack.
Best. Hookup. Ever.
Gorgeous and wealthy, hot as sin, Jack can give Sarah everything she needs-except an emotional connection. That she gets from her Missed Connection, the romantic stranger who never fails to make her swoon. But there’s only so much of Sarah to go around. Torn between the bad boy she can’t keep and the sensitive stranger who bares his soul online, her heart and body are soon in two very different relationships…or are they?
librarian, and a musician with synesthesia. Armed with a name tag and a thin
veneer of credibility, she takes great delight in recommending books and
shushing people. She puts the ‘she’ in TWSS and the B in LGBTQIA+. She’s the
co-creator of Pitchmas, a bi-annual pitch contest for writers, and as a
freelance editor, has worked with NYT Bestselling authors.
Has an elevator ride ever taken so long? The slow circles he traces on the back of my hand with his thumb have me debating stopping the elevator and dragging him into a stairwell to get him naked now, but the elevator stops on my floor and we’re so close to my bed.
Door open, door closed, shoes were on, kick them off. No stopping to ask if he’d like something to drink, I pull him straight to the bedroom and turn to face him. His momentum crushes us together, and I press harder against him, wrap my arms around and grab that tight ass I’ve wanted to squeeze for years and grind against him. This time when my lips meet his, they’re curled into a satisfied smile because now there’s nothing stopping us but clothes and common sense.
His skin is smooth and warm beneath my hands, which I slide beneath the hem of his t-shirt before coaxing it over his head. Kissing down his throat and chest, lightly grazing it with my teeth, I’m rewarded with his intake of breath and his hands finding their way to my shoulders. He pulls me upright and kisses me hungrily. One hand wraps around, bending me back like a cobra, and he tangles his hand in my hair, squeezing my body in his arms like he can’t get enough.
I want him on top of me. Now.
We’re riding the same lusty wavelength, because he straightens and pulls back. “Take your shirt off. I need to see you.”
“Take your pants off,” I counter. “I need to feel you.”
His jeans hitting my floor is the most glorious sound I’ve ever heard.
“Now you.” His order is paired with hungry eyes.
I pull my shirt over my head slowly to make him wait. When I get it over my head and can see again, he’s moved closer and stands only inches away from me.
“Hi.” His voice is a smoldering bed of hot coals I want to roll around in.
“Hi.” I smile. “Want to help me with my pants?”
His long, well-formed fingers curl into the belt loops of my jeans and tug me closer. “You sure you need help, beautiful girl?”
I trail my hands over the chiseled contours of his abs and up his well-defined chest. “My hands are busy.”
The pull of the button and slide of the zipper and cool night air greets my thighs and calves. He’s bent closer to coax my jeans down and his hair smells woodsy and fresh like a forest after a storm. I stop him on his way up, my mouth on his again, and how will I ever get enough of these lips, this tongue, now that I’ve tasted this forbidden fruit?