His fingers were the kind that could curl around a basketball and dwarf it. I am kicking myself for waiting so long to read this book! And we have a last name. Hello, Petal Chapter one:
Now in New York, she is looking to shed herself of the old, timid and reserved Sara. Sara enjoyed having sex in the club, knowing that at any moment someone could catch them in the act. Sara heads to the bar to get more shots for her friends, and Max approaches her. They flirt a bit at the bar and while out on the dance floor, she struts her stuff knowing that the British Babe is watching her every move. Sara's not looking for a relationship. Honestly, the woman had the most enormous brown eyes. I will never think of libraries in the same way again. She looked like she had stepped right out of some sixties photo shoot. It would be easier to be casual—though certainly so much less satisfying—if Max were a mediocre lover, or treated me primarily as a convenient way to get off every week. Separated by the pesky state of Nevada, these co-author besties speak several times a day, agree that Ruby Pumps is the best nail polish color ever, and would, if given the choice, spend all day staring at the ocean from the San Clemente pier. She wants to take a walk on the wild side. When I looked back up, her eyes had grown to roughly the size of dinner plates. I'm hopeful that I will get more of Sara and Max in the next book. That there would be something to cause a bit of angst. Sara is just getting over a bad break up with her fiance, who she only recently learned had been having numerous affairs throughout their relationship. She grabbed my arm, pulling me down a hallway, her fitted knee-high boots clacking on the stone tiles. He's also a well known player whose conquests are repeatedly gossiped about on Page Six of the Post. Damn, why did he have to feel so good? You can find them online at ChristinaLaurenBooks. Her bangs were swept to the side and held in place by a tiny red clip, which matched her full crimson lips. But the manner—and speed—with which he melts her inhibitions turns him from a one-time hookup and into her Beautiful Stranger. The I Love You This was one of the first scenes that came out when we started writing, and we knew all we had to do was just get them to this point. Under the ruse of having to pack up his office to be painted, Max invites Sara over to his work for their usual Friday-night playtime. A different place each time. The bartender returned, then looked at the man beside me expectantly. My beautiful stranger barely raised his voice, but it was so deep it carried without effort:
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