One fiery American woman and one hot British guy? The language of love knows no boundaries…
From #1 NYT Bestselling author Lauren Blakely, comes the hot, new romance guaranteed to sweep you away while scorching the sheets, WANDERLUST! A brand new, sinfully sexy romance, WANDERLUST is now available on all retailers! Get your copy delivered now!
✮✮✮WANDERLUST is here! Grab your copy today! ✮✮✮
From #1 NYT bestselling author Lauren Blakely comes a sexy new standalone romance!
The first time I met him, his sexy British accent almost talked me into giving him my number on the spot. The second time, he nearly charmed the panties off me with his wit. Then I learned he's the key to success in my new job in Paris. The man who tempts me into fling-worthy dirty daydreams has turned out to be my personal translator, and his accent is the hottest thing I've ever heard.
My mantra is simple -- Don't mix business with pleasure.
I do my best to resist him as he teaches me how to converse with my co-workers, navigate the metro and order the perfect bottle of wine at dinner. But I also figure out how to tell the charming and clever man what I most want to say -- that I want him to take me back to his flat -- tonight.
Except there's a catch...
***
One more assignment before I take off on my big adventure...
And it involves the toughest work ever -- resisting the fetching American woman I spend all my days with. But you know what they say about best intentions. Soon, we're spending our nights tangled together, and I don't want to let her go. The trouble is, my wanderlust is calling to me, and before we know it I'll be traveling the globe to fulfill a promise I made long ago.
What could possibly go wrong with falling in love in Paris? Nothing...unless one of you is leaving.
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Excerpt:
~GRIFFIN~
There’s one word a woman can utter that gets a man’s blood flowing south instantly.
Okay. That’s not true.
There are about twenty thousand that produce that effect, because when you fancy a woman, nearly anything remotely sexy can drive you crazy with desire for her.
Imagine if she says, I’m going to take off a sock.
Boom. Implied nudity. Hard as a rock.
Perhaps she asks, Do you like strawberries?
Obviously that means she wants me to eat them off her breasts. Flagpole raised.
But then there are some that are so direct, so spot on, she might as well be saying, I’d like you to fuck me hard all night long.
Which, for the record, might possibly be my favorite thing a woman could ever say to me. In fact, I might need to make that my own personal addendum to the bucket list.
At the moment, though, the word is proposition.
As I walk to the restaurant Joy has chosen on Rue de Bac, I keep replaying that deliciously inviting message.
I have a proposition for you.
What could it possibly be but some fantastic arrangement where we shag all night and still get along for work? No strings, no pain, no heartbreak. Sign me up right-the-hell now. That would be fantastic. A promise of orgasm-drenched nights, capped off by an uncomplicated good-bye when I take off for Indonesia in a few more months, finally visiting the places around the world Ethan and I marked on a map when we were younger.
As I round the corner, Christian’s words have the temerity to appear in the forefront of my brain.
Don’t you make the same mistake. You can’t mix business and pleasure. We’re lucky to have the jobs we have.
We are lucky to have our jobs. I don’t disagree with his basic premise, but I doubt Joy’s proposition will jeopardize mine. Besides, I really only need to keep my job for the next two and a half months. That’s all she needs me for at her company, and then I’m gone. Who knows where I’ll end up after I take off on my great adventure? We made so many marks on that map. If I found it, it’d be full of pinholes, I’m sure.
Travel everywhere, Ethan wrote.
He can’t. So I must.
There’s simply no way that Joy’s have hot sex with me every single night starting now will interfere with my bigger plans. I can juggle business and pleasure. I can enjoy the woman, the gig, and the checking off of each item on the bucket list.
When I reach the door of Gabriel’s, a restaurant started by a French-Brazilian cook who’s now become a rock star chef in New York City, I’m more certain than ever that I can have my cake and eat it, too. Preferably off Joy’s soft supple belly.
With that enticing image front and center, I smooth a hand down my black shirt, push open the door, and head inside.
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