Eighty-One Nights (Beautiful Illusions Duet #1) by Georgia Cates
Release Date: April 9th
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Blurb:
Beautiful, penniless American girl meets handsome, wealthy Scotsman.
Sounds like the beginning of a fairy-tale romance?
It’s not.
This story begins with a contract.
And an exchange of money.
A lot of money.
An angel perches nervously on one shoulder.
A devil lounges smugly on my other.
And even that dark little bastard is leery of what I’m doing.
Maxwell Hutcheson wants the girlfriend experience.
All of it.
And I’m going to give it to him.
I’m not supposed to enjoy being his whore.
I’m also not supposed to fall in love with him.
But I do. Both.
When our contract expires, I will walk away.
Because I have to.
But he’ll always have a piece of me.
I’ll mask my sorrow with a smile.
I’ll hide my love with indifference
… all while it’s killing me softly.
A fairy-tale romance.
It isn’t mine to have.
And this man I’ve come to love so dearly isn’t my happily ever after.
About Eighty-One Nights:
While the characters from Eighty-One Nights are entirely new, their storyline is a combination of fresh material and carefully selected themes, scenes, and settings from The Beauty Series, The Sin Trilogy, Dear Agony, and Indulge. This is intentional. I chose some of my favorite elements from previous releases and interjected them into Hutch and Lou’s story. Let’s call it a “story fusion” between our old favorites and new material. This work was briefly released under a pen name and was titled The Girlfriend Experience.
Excerpt:
He slides closer and I twist so that I’m facing him. His eyes leave mine, moving lower, and he looks at my mouth. “You have great lips.”
“I like yours too.” They’re so soft and full and framed perfectly by the scruff on his face.
“Do you always wear red lipstick?”
I lick my lips. “I never wear red lipstick.”
He touches his thumb to my bottom lip. “You’re wearing it tonight. And you wore it the other nights that I saw you.” He noticed and remembers.
“Only because I thought that you might like it.”
“I do like it. It’s sexy and it looks beautiful on you.”
“Thank you.”
I lick my lips again and press them together, preparing for the kiss that could be coming.
Come on, Hutch. Kiss me. I want you to.
He leans closer and sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, gently tugging on it. It’s not one of those gross I’m-going-to eat-your-face-off kind of sucks. It’s a sexy kind of suck. The foreplay kind of suck.
His mouth opens, covering mine, and our tongues fall into a rhythmic wave. It’s a seductive swirl of soft, wet velvet and wine. And damn, I think that the wine tastes even sweeter on his tongue.
I push my fingers into the back of his hair, and everything moves faster. Our kiss is no longer slow and sweet. It’s carnal and demanding.
Pulling away, I pant for air, and his eyes connect with mine. “Do you want me to stop?”
This relationship isn’t normal. It has its own set of rules and those don’t include the norm. It’s okay to have sex for fun and not for love. This has nothing to do with my stupid heart.
Placing my hands on each side of his face, I drag my fingertips through his facial scruff.
“Don’t stop.”
An angel on one shoulder, a devil on the other. And even that dark bastard is asking me what the hell I’m doing.
“Are you sure?”
I’m about to cross a line from which I can’t return. “I’m sure.”
Hutch places his hands on top of mine and turns his face into my palm, kissing it through a wide smile. “Not here.”
He gets up from the couch and takes my hands, pulling me to stand. With his hands holding mine, I follow him down the hallway to his bedroom.
About the Author:
Georgia resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back yet.
When she’s not writing, she’s thinking about writing. When she’s being domestic, she’s listening to her music and visualizing scenes for her current work in progress. Every story coming from her always has a song to inspire it.
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