London Calling by Nana Malone
(Chase Brothers, #2)
Publication date: May 18th 2015
Genres: Contemporary, Romance
Synopsis:Women came easy…
But then, for photographer, Xander Chase, most things came easy…except love. His portraits are renowned for revealing the heart and soul of his subjects, yet, he keeps his own heart hidden behind a playboy facade. All he cares about is revenge, and for that, he needs a stand-in girlfriend for a weekend fling.
Struggling actress, Imani Brooks, has been offered the coveted role of a lifetime…playing the part of an escort in a renowned play. When Xander proposes a weekend of research in Paris, she jumps at the chance. Their pretend relationship is the perfect way to dig into her role. She just has to remember that what they have is only for show. Xander is not the kind of man to fall in love.
Love is harder that it looks…
Everything goes as planned until passion erupts and blurs the line between fiction and reality. Can Imani get past the walls Xander’s built around his heart and find the real man hidden behind the camera lens? Or will Xander’s hunt for revenge leave her heart in shreds?
Due to adult situations, recommended for readers 18+
Pussy came easy. But then, for Xander Chase, most things came easy.
As he slid a glance over the lithe, naked back of the blonde in front of him and he locked his teeth, he wished some things came easier than others. It didn't matter how much his balls ached or how much sweat dripped off his brow, there’d be no relief for him, no matter how many times he had her.
As she moaned, writhed, and shouted things that were dirty enough to make any porn star blush, he fought to stay focused. She was a means to an end. Unfortunately for him, that end wasn’t pleasure. More like revenge. She had information he needed. And she, like half the women in London, was susceptible to the Chase charm.
She screamed through her orgasm and Xander just wanted it to be over. A means to an end. And also, Alistair’s wife. Screwing her was one more domino on his way to taking down the man he hated.
His brain did him the favor of replaying the night over and over and over again. Every decision he’d made. Every step that had led him here. How well she’d sucked his cock on the way to Notting Hill. The slide of her tongue over the length of him as he spun his Huyra over the rain slick streets of London. The feel of her pussy milking his cock. Her brazen offer for him to have her any way he wanted.
But he had zero desire to come. And no amount of fucking this nearly nameless, faceless blonde would solve that. After today, he’d barely remember her because he had what he needed. Hell, he could barely remember her name as it was. Gemma? Jemima? Julia? Something J-sounding. Bugger, he really did have to get better with names. But he would remember whose wife she was.
What mattered was she had unfettered access to information he needed, and he’d found the way to access it. Not like there’d be a repeat performance anyway. She was just another nameless J-sounding blonde. Who can give you the keys to the kingdom.
He pulled away from her and she made a half-hearted, feeble attempt to reach for him. Who was she kidding? That was orgasm number four for her. She’d be out cold in seconds.
He slid the satin sheet over her naked form and sat on the edge of his bed. His dick twitched as if to remind him of how he got into this mess in the first place. He scrubbed a hand down his face. Two hours of J-girl blowing him and him shagging her till there was a sheen of sweat over both their bodies and he still couldn’t come. Not that he’d ever expected to. And after all, that wasn’t the point of all this. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice.
He sat there for several minutes until her deep, even breathing alerted him to her slumber. Right. Time to go to work. He tugged on his boxer briefs and slipped into the living room where she’d dropped her bag.
He made sure he kept an eye on the bedroom door as he booted up her laptop. Thanks to one tequila too many, and his very skilled hands working their magic under her panties, she’d told him everything he needed to know to take a decent stab at her password. He got it on the third try. Cat’s name. He didn't bother to roll his eyes.
When he was done copying all the files to his external hard drive, he shut down her computer and slid it back into her bag before silently stalking back into the bedroom. She was still knocked out, but the sheet had shifted slightly, exposing her bare arse. Fuck, maybe he should have taken her up on her offer to fuck her however he wanted.
He scowled at his straining erection. His cock begged him to go back to bed. To give it another go in the hopes that this time would be different. That she would be different. But he knew better. What was the definition of insanity again? No point in going back to it, mate, it won’t do any good. He could fuck the blonde for another five hours and there would be no relief for him. No respite, no bliss. He’d stay hard as a rock. As it was, he’d fucked her into a dead stupor and he could have kept going.
There was only one way to relieve the gnawing, clawing hunger. But knowing the solution didn’t mean he wanted to go through with it. Get in the shower. Release the tension. Then call the cleaning crew to deal with the unwanted guest. Most importantly ignore that niggling thought at the back of his skull. That tiny voice telling him the kind of man he was. Telling him that inside, he was beyond buggered. Truly fucked up and there’d be no respite for him. This was his personal hell.
Imani let herself into their place with her brass key and smiled. Careful now, it’s just pretend. Even if it was just pretend, she liked thinking of this as their place. Soon, she would go back to her normal life. She needed to call Felix tonight. He'd left for Ireland two days ago and he wouldn’t be back for another two days, so they were due for a catch-up. But she wouldn't be able to see him until the weekend if her rehearsal schedule kept up. With her rehearsal schedule she was way overbooked, but she’d find time. She missed her bestie.
When she let herself in, the lights in the kitchen were on low, but the living room was dark. Had she left them on? Had Xander turned them on for her remotely so she wouldn’t come home to a dark house? He knew she had no idea how to work the remote security app. He’d taken to doing things like that for her. She didn’t know what had changed, but after the club last weekend, he’d been different.
As if some invisible barrier between them had been torn down by force. If she didn’t know better she'd say he was the perfect boyfriend. He'd said he was meeting Lex for a drink tonight, so she didn't expect him for a while. Maybe she’d have some time to shave and do the girl thing. As she slipped her shoes off, she tossed her keys on the table in the foyer.
But when she reached for the light switch in the living room, a deep voice halted her. "Leave the light off, Imani."
Her heart skipped, but she instantly quelled the panic. She knew that voice. "Xander? I thought you were hanging with Lex tonight. Why are you sitting in the dark?" She reached for the light switch again and his voice got even deeper. "I said, leave it off."
She stilled, then licked her lips nervously. "Is everything okay?"
She dropped her bag on the kitchen counter.
Something wasn’t right. Tentatively she stepped toward the shadow on the couch. "Okay. You want to tell me what’s going on?" When she reached the couch, she paused, unsure of what to do next.
Her gaze slid to the floor so she could avoid any obstacles in her way. "Xander? You’re freaking me out a little. What’s the matter? Talk to me.”
“What's the matter is I need you. Fuck now, Talk later.”
"I wouldn't hurt you."
"Isn’t that what the praying mantis says just before biting off the head of its mate?" Despite her question, she relaxed again.
The corner of his lips tipped up in a sardonic smile as he resumed his extrication. "Consider it foreplay."
She stiffened again. “On second thought, I’ll just get myself free.”
"You’re stuck. I’m just trying to release you so you can get out of my flat.” He softened his voice. “Maybe, since I’m pretty sure you can clock my heart rate, you tell me your real name?”
“I—” She sighed. “It’s Imani.”
“See, how bad was that? I’m Alexander.” She licked her lips, and his gaze narrowed on her mouth. “Fuck, you’re really going to have to stop doing that."
She shifted on her feet. "I’m nervous. It’s not like I'm doing it on purpose."
Xander shook his head and peered around her at the hook. There was no way to get her off the damn thing without pressing into her. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered.
He sucked in a deep breath and with it the scent of her. He could feel his pulse beating a tattoo under his skin. The closer he stood to her, the choppier his breathing became. Want. He needed to unhook her and get the hell away from her. His cock, however, disagreed. Vehemently. Need. He reached around her and tried to gently pry the fabric off the hook and hearing a stitch tear, he stopped. The only way to get her off was to lift her. Her body pressed flush up against his. On no planet was that a good idea.
Xander clenched his jaw hard as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her smoothly off her feet. Her body molded against his like a spray on tan. Want. Need. He managed to unhook her and set her feet back on the ground, but not before sliding her all the way down his body. Every curve of hers pressed against him and he wanted to do a lot more to her tits than just fuck them. Like lick, suckle, and tease until her eyes rolled back into her head with pleasure. He needed to step away from her. The last thing he needed was a complication. But every command his brain gave went unheeded.
"You're a little close, aren’t you?" Her voice was soft.
Another soft chuckle escaped his lips. "I'm not sure you understand how this is supposed to go."
She swallowed hard. "Oh, I understand the mechanics, but…” She paused, not sure how to put it. "You said that you didn't want to…uh…talk."
He reached out and smoothed a lock of hair between his fingers. "I think I changed my mind. I do want to talk. But there's something about you that makes me want to touch too."
"You should realize that touching a woman's hair is a really personal thing."
"So is standing in a man's flat, wearing a dress made for sin, fuck-me heels and a smile."
Purchase:The author is doing an exclusive iTunes pre-order with this book - the link is: https://itunes.apple.com/
ca/book/london-calling/ id979775203?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo% 3D4
What London Meant To Me
We’ve all experienced this. The overwhelming urge to run away from your life, from the thing that scares you most or hems you in.
I had that moment myself. And yes, I ran to London. I was in a dead end job doing something I didn’t love and the city that was normally so vibrant and alive felt hollow to me. After a year long stint in Ghana for a contract, I opted to attend graduate school in London. After all, I’d always enjoyed the city.
But I was unprepared for how alive I’d feel once I got there. In a matter of weeks, I had a job, had registered for my classes and knew the tube and bus schedule as if I was a born Londoner. Most people would assume I had the most fun tripping in my heels, running from club to club. Lol. And while that was enjoyable, I honestly had the most fun at my job. I know, weird right?
I worked at a call center full of ex-pat foreign nationals. I met people from South Africa, Zimbabwe and Brazil. Everyone was young and adventurous and wanted to explore. The moments between calls and between shifts were where I made some of the friends I still have to this day.
I also became addicted to running home between work and school to catch an episode of East Enders (A UK soap opera) and would have these hilarious philosophical conversations about why British television stars didn’t have that pretty, polished glow to them that our stars in the US did. With my schedule, I often had my groceries delivered. I took dance classes at Pineapple Dance studios and explored Covent Garden on the weekends. Going to the park meant Hyde Park and shopping meant the High Street or the West End.
But most importantly, in those moments of exploration and fun and dancing, and combing British bookstores looking for every Lesley Pierce and Martina Cole book known to mankind, I found myself. Oh yeah, and I went to a few classes too.
USA Today Best Seller, Nana Malone's love of all things romance and adventure started with a tattered romantic suspense she "borrowed" from her cousin.
It was a sultry summer afternoon in Ghana, and Nana was a precocious thirteen. She's been in love with kick butt heroines ever since. With her overactive imagination, and channeling her inner Buffy, it was only a matter a time before she started creating her own characters.
While she waits for her chance at a job as a ninja assassin, in the meantime Nana works out her drama, passion and sass with fictional characters every bit as sassy and kick butt as she thinks she is.
Want to know when the next book is coming? Hit up her Newsletter here. You'll only get updated when there is a new release or a special promotion for her Sexy, Sassy Readers. http://eepurl.
*USA Today Bestselling In Stilettos Series *
Book 1 - Sexy in Stilettos
Book 2 - Sultry in Stilettos
Book 3 - Sassy in Stilettos
Book 4 - Strollers & Stilettos
Book 5 - Seductive in Stilettos ✩ 5 Part Serial ✩