A second chance Hollywood romance featuring Myf from the Blue Phoenix series
Releases May 9th. Available for pre-order on Amazon
I woke this morning expecting to marry the man I loved and ended the day married to somebody else.
Pre-Order Available NOW
Release Date May 9th
Jilted by her fiancé on their wedding day, actress Myf Roberts runs from the situation and takes an unscheduled trip to Vegas with rock band, Blue Phoenix.
The night wasn’t supposed to end with her married to Hollywood bad boy, Tate Daniels.
Why did it have to be Tate Daniels? The man Myf knew years ago hasn’t changed. He’s still the charming bad boy who leaves broken hearts in his wake. And Tate’s still the man Myf denies has an effect on her she’s never shaken.
Tate is no stranger to scandal and has been warned to keep his nose clean if he wants to keep his lucrative role in the newest network drama. Now he’s discovered his fake Vegas wedding isn’t so fake after all, and he has one huge problem to fix.
But Myf is the girl who filled Tate’s world six years ago. The one who got away. And this time she doesn’t get to call the shots.
When she’s cast as lead actress opposite her unwanted husband in his new show, Myf can’t refuse the career opportunity she’s waited for. But can Myf keep the sizzling chemistry between her and Tate onscreen? Or will she surrender and give her heart to the man she swore would never win?
A Hollywood, second chance romance from USA Today bestselling author, Lisa Swallow.
Read on for an Excerpt
Tate rests against the wall again. “You know how to keep a guy hanging, don’t you? I’ve waited for your call. I need to know what you’ve decided about the marriage.”
“I was busy. Calling you was on my to-do list.”
He laughs at my pointed look. “Touché. I haven’t heard from my lawyer, so I presume you’re okay with the arrangement I suggested?”
Now. Here. Who’s in control? I pause, and we eye each other the way we did in character, as Brit and Dev, and I attempt to communicate I won’t take any of his crap. His mouth twitches in amusement.
I look over to the glass doors and balcony, aware I’ll possibly regret my next question. “How long do you want to stay married, Tate?”
“That’s three months!”
“Correct.” Tate sets his glass on a table close by, then crosses his arms over his chest. “You know what confuses me?” I shake my head. “There’re hundreds of girls out there who’d give everything for a piece of Tate Daniels. Why aren’t you grabbing the opportunity to get your hands on me?”
I scoff. “Seriously, Tate? Why would my lack of interest in you be different to six years ago?”
“Come on. Based on your repeated attempts to get my clothes off in Vegas, you clearly wanted the full experience.” His eyes glint as he focuses on my mouth and moistens his lips. “I’m willing to oblige now you’re sober enough to remember.”
I step closer. Did I behave like that, or is he lying? “Not happening.”
Tate uncrosses his arms and leans into my face again, warm fingers touching my ear as he moves hair away. “One night with me, and you’ll be begging for more. And you know it.”
“Are you sure?” His lips brush my ear, and I focus on keeping my breath even. Here we go again, Tate turning up the intensity. “Because I’ve waited a long time and so have you.”
“Tate?” I ask in a low voice.
“Step away so we can discuss the issue.”
He laughs as he moves back. “Step away and discuss the issue,” he mimics. “Man, you’re uptight sometimes. You do realise that makes me want you more? Always did.” He pauses, and the grin grows. “And now we have each other, finally.”
Tate doesn’t touch me, but his proximity triggers arousal, even without his suggestions. Jesus, I hate my body sometimes.
“Why are you behaving like a jerk?” I hiss.
“Because I don’t like being jerked around.” He moves his face closer to mine again. “Don’t play me. You’ll lose.”
I tighten my mouth and meet his challenge, ignoring my heart thumping a heady mix of lust and anger through my veins. We’ve been here before, many times, Tate attempting to wear me down and into his bed. He knows—we both know—the sexual spark between us arced the first time we performed on stage opposite each other, and it was almost acted on. What happens now we’re in the position again?
“If I agree to stay married until November, I have some conditions.”
I don’t let go of the challenge, or succumb to him. “The marriage remains secret.”
“And you offered me money?”
Tate’s attitude lifts, eyes shining. “Cool. How much?”
“I don’t want your money.”
“You’re confusing me.”
“A million dollars for—”
He snaps his head back. “What the f*ck? I thought you said I couldn’t buy you?”
“Let me finish!” I retort. “I’ll stay married to you if you pay a million dollars to charity.”
“I don’t have a spare million dollars!”
“I bet you do. I know how much you were paid per episode for the last show you were in.”
He barks a short laugh. “Try a quarter of what they rumoured.”
“Have you spent it all?”
“Well, then. Didn’t you say your agent wanted, and I quote, ‘someone who does charity work and shit like that’? How much do you want me to agree to this, Tate?”
He blows air into his cheeks. Ha, that smacked away his smug. “Half a million?” he offers.
I don’t know what I’ll enjoy more, his reaction to this or to what I’m about to say next. “Fine, if you agree to my other condition.”
“I can pretty much guarantee this one will be the deal-breaker, and you’ll have the papers on my table tomorrow.”
“Try me.” He cocks an expectant brow.
“No sex with other girls until we’re divorced.”
Tate blinks and looks at me as if I asked him to join a cult. “Okay, you can have a million dollars for your charity.”
I laugh. “This is in addition to, not instead of, however much you donate.”
“Seriously, Myf? I can’t do that!”
“Okay. I’ll call my lawyer tomorrow and—”
As I attempt to pass him, he curls a hand around my arm. “You cannot expect me to give up sex for three months.”
I pull my arm away, and a smile snakes across my face at his reaction. All those girls at college, all the broken hearts. “I’m only asking you to be a faithful husband since you want to stay married to me. I’m helping you clean up your image, Tate.” I can’t hide the saccharin sarcasm or the fact I love I have him by the balls.
He leans forward, lips close to my ear, and my heart stutters, then starts racing three times the speed as he speaks. “Other girls? So sex with you is okay?”
The alcohol smell on his breath mingles with the spiced scent of the expensive cologne he advertises and triggers a memory from Vegas.
Tripping into Tate and hanging onto his neck as lights blur above me, the casino sounds and cigar smoke surrounding us as we’re locked in the moment.
Another image flashes: Tate’s lips on mine, his hands in my hair as we spin together. Or was that the room spinning? I can’t remember that or how his lips felt on mine. I have no recollection how I reacted when Tate kissed me.
And he can’t realise in this current moment I want to know. “No, and I’m not interested.”
“You’re lying again.” Jesus, I wish he’d move his mouth away from mine.
“I have no intention to get into your bed.”
“Too late, you spent the night with me already.”
He bites down on his lip, pissing me off when I shiver. “Did you know what you were doing when you passed out?”
“Lying on the bathroom floor?”
“That was the second time. The first time you were trying to undo my pants and—”
“I was not!”
“How do you know? You don’t remember anything.” He throws me a sly smile in return. “You were very insistent.”
“Bullshit. I could hardly stand. No way would I do that. Not my style.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he bats back. “Now you’re sober, I’ll show you exactly what you wanted to see and take part in anything you wanted to do, just say the word.”
I struggle for a smart comeback, but the flashback won’t leave my head.
“I bet you’d like my mouth on you,” he continues, rubbing fingers across his bottom lip. “Doing dirty things I’m positive you’ve thought about.”
“Stop there!” Gathering what little strength I have against the effect he’s having, I break his hold on me. “The only betting I do is playing poker in Vegas.”
“Yeah, badly. Your poker face sucked. Still does.”
I run my tongue along my teeth. “You want to bet on something? I bet you can’t lay off sex for three months.”
“Correct. But I bet that sex will be with my wife before three months is up.”
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