Becca Jameson is a successful romance novelist with a bad case of writer’s block. After missing a deadline, Becca is issued an ultimatum by her new editor. She must shed her pen name and reveal her true identity as part of the publicity campaign for her new book. Anxious to finish the novel, Becca is lucky that her stepsister owns a successful and sexy nightclub that might just hold the key to her inspiration.
Graham Crowne runs a top ad agency in Boston and attends the opening night at his client’s new nightclub merely out of professional support. The half-naked dancing girls are an added bonus, but Graham isn’t looking for a fling until he spots Becca.
An anonymous one-night stand provides Becca with the creative spark she needs but does little to relieve her anxiety over the upcoming PR campaign. When Becca grudgingly meets with her new publicist, she is surprised to find a familiar face sitting behind the desk. With Graham pushing the editor’s agenda, will Becca get over her undeniable attraction to him? Or will she be willing to mix business with pleasure to get the job done?
“You said the drawer next to the stove, Zo!” Becca yelled across the apartment.
“No, the cupboard above the stove,” she yelled back.
“Above the stove,” Becca muttered, stretching up to her toes, just barely reaching the handle. The cupboard door swung open but the item in question was still not in her reach. Jumping a little, she could see them but not quite get her hands on them. Feeling a sharp jab in her side, Becca turned to see Zoe standing there. Boy, she was quiet. Becca got the hint and moved out of the way. Zoe opened a low cupboard, stuck a foot inside and boosted herself up a few inches until she could easily reach the pack of double-A batteries. A bright smile lit her face as she tossed them to Becca.
“Why would a little sprite like you choose to keep her batteries on such a high shelf?”
“Because those batteries are for the remote and stuff like that. My vibrator batteries are in my bedside table. Duh.” Zoe rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, well, I’m still living out of boxes. None of which are labeled ‘pleasure chest.’”
“Becca, you’ve been here for ten days and this is the third time you’re replacing the batteries in your vibrator. Either you need a new, more efficient toy, or you missed a deadline.”
“How do you know I don’t need them for, like, a flashlight or something?” Becca tried unsuccessfully to get the question out before breaking into a fit of laughter. Zoe just shook her head, a matching smile spreading across her face.
“So…new toy or deadline? Which is it?”
“I don’t know,” Becca groaned. “Let’s say it’s both plus a dash of new editor. Apparently Liz Two isn’t fond of missed deadlines, even for first offenders.”
“Deadline, schmedline,” Zoe said as she slung an arm around Becca’s waist and gave her a squeeze.
“Excellent words of wisdom.” Becca laughed. “Perhaps Vicki Reign’s opening line.”
“Ooh, wait,” Zoe pulled her arm back. “Is my favorite sexy heroine really at a loss for words? No hanky panky in exotic locales? No bodice ripping while pressed up against a dark alley wall?” Her mouth dropped open in mock surprise.
“Your favorite sexy heroine hasn’t even had her morning cup of coffee,” Becca said with a pointed look at the empty coffee pot on the counter.
Zoe rolled her eyes and pinched Becca’s arm before turning to the cupboard.
“Does my favorite sexy heroine have a touch of writer’s block or something?” she asked without looking at Becca.
“Or something,” Becca murmured.
Becca had never had a problem before writing Vicki Reign; international time traveling super spy and star of Becca’s wildly popular series of romance novels. Otherwise known as Becca’s meal ticket. At nine books and counting, Becca’s fans and editor were constantly hounding her for more sexy adventures. And Becca didn’t have a problem keeping up with the demand. Until things got complicated.
If Becca was being honest with herself she knew using her ex-boyfriend Kyle to research some of her more explicit scenes was a one-way ticket to complicated. It was just a matter of time before he found someone and of course he would get serious about her. And of course he would be too good a friend to leave Becca in the lurch. So it was up to Becca to call it quits. End the research. Wish him well with Emma and get the hell out of the Valley. Moving across the country was probably a little drastic but across the country was where Zoe happened to be with a spare bedroom.
It turned out that moving cross-country wasn’t cheap and after Becca used her latest advance to fund the mass exodus and spent more of her time packing than writing, she hardly noticed when her deadline slipped by. A fact that would come to her in the form of a scathing phone call from her new editor, Liz Two.
Zoe nudged Becca’s elbow with a coffee cup. Complete with cream and sugar, Becca must’ve drifted away for longer than she’d thought.
“So, porn then?” Zoe asked as she gathered up the mail strewn across the small kitchen table into a neat stack.
Becca dropped down into the seat opposite Zoe and sighed dramatically.
“Between the stellar wi-fi and Tumblr, I’m good. It’s getting Vicki Reign’s latest story to come…” Becca sighed. “I just want to be done with her, she’s a tainted woman now.”
“She was a tainted woman before, Bec, that’s what everyone likes about her.” Zoe smirked. “But are you sure she’s the only one having a hard time coming? That would explain the great Boston battery shortage.”
“It’s not funny, Zo,” Becca buried her face in the steam rising from her coffee mug until it fogged her vision. “When you’ve been doing something one way for so long…and it’s been working…”
Becca’s words hung in the air for the briefest of seconds before Zoe stood abruptly.
“Bec, the one thing you were doing for so long was a douchey loser who couldn’t make you orgasm unless you were picturing your latest leading man.”
“Kyle wasn’t a douche, Zoe.” Becca’s defense of Kyle sounded pathetic even to herself.
“Uh, yes, Becca, he was.”
Becca lifted her gaze out of her coffee cup to watch Zoe straighten to her full five-foot-nothing height. Zoe planted her hands on her hips.
“What kind of a guy keeps sleeping with his ex-girlfriend eight months after he’s started dating someone else?!”
“The kind who is good at following directions?” Becca cringed.
Zoe reached across the table and grasped one of Becca’s hands in her own. “Honey, telling him how to get you off using just some cufflinks and a tie isn’t the same thing as being honorable. If you had known about Emma right away—”
“Zoe Whitfield,” Becca snapped.
“What?” Zoe feigned innocence.
“You know I didn’t touch him after I found out about her.”
“Exactly!” Zoe rapped her fist against the table. “He’s the douche. And you’re hard up. I think it’s time for an intervention. ‘My name is Becca Jameson and it’s been…um, forever since my last date. I moved to Boston to get a new start and fall in love.’” Zoe grinned, pleased with herself.
Becca bit the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile at Zoe’s ridiculous declaration.
“More like…my name is Becca Jameson and I’m looking for five fantastic orgasms to help me finish an overdue manuscript so that I can get the editor from hell off my back and collect a royalty check to fund this little cross-country move that was instigated by my wicked stepsister.”
Zoe’s grin sagged into a frown.
“Stepsister?” she said in a wounded voice.
Zoe was right. They may not have been blood sisters, but Zoe was definitely the real deal. Most teenagers would’ve probably resented the quick marriage Zoe’s mother and Becca’s father fell into. After all, their small families were forced together in a matter of days after Douglas arrived home from Vegas with Regina in tow. Zoe caught a flight from Florida to California just days later, after finishing the week out at her old school. Becca was prepared to hate her new sister for barging in on her life. But the truth was, Becca was bored in Sherman Oaks and had few friends. Zoe embraced her, figuratively and literally, the minute she stepped off the plane. She made fast friends with everyone and for the first time, Becca’s house felt like a home. Becca loved her right away.
Becca interrupted her trip down memory lane to squeeze Zoe’s hand. “All right. But I stand by the wicked part.”
Zoe’s grin made a triumphant return with a high-pitched squeal. “You better believe it, sis!”
With that, Zoe was up and running.
“Did you know I own the sexiest night club in Boston, and as luck would have it, our grand opening is tonight?”
There was no amount of caffeine that could prepare Becca for a Zoe tornado this early in the day. Or any time of the day, actually. But there it was. Swirling around their top-story apartment of the Back Bay brownstone, Tornado Zoe was on a mission. And her target was sitting defenseless and vulnerable.
Zoe slapped a thick file in front of Becca and danced on her tiptoes while she waited for Becca’s curiosity to pique. It didn’t take long. A black and white headshot slipped from the folder and if the body shot beneath it was any indication, Becca’s plea for orgasms was about to be answered.
“Oh, and I got something fabulous for you to wear, Bec!”