Published by Science Future Press on September 9, 2015
Genres: Adult Fiction, Contemporary Romance, Erotica, Romance
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Fletcher Novak is Sexy.
Fletch has charm, Fletch has charisma, and Fletch has moves. He turns dreams into reality two nights a week, baring his body to lonely women, bored housewives, and bachelorettes looking for that one last good time. He’s into one-night stands, one-time things, and he never, ever gets serious.
Tiffy Preston is looking for commitment.
A billionaire’s daughter with the world at her fingertips, Tiffy’s in Lake Tahoe to take over her father’s hotel and clean up the Mountain Men Male Revue Show. She’s well-bred, polite, and hates everything Fletcher represents.
But Fletcher offers Tiffy something she can’t refuse—total satisfaction and the man of her dreams. All she has to do is… everything he tells her.
Because Sexy doesn’t sell… it’s for sale.
Sexy is a full-length, standalone novel by New York Times Bestselling author, JA Huss.
GET THE ENTIRE SEVEN BOOK SERIES for $4.99 (one week only)
I sit there and enjoy the view, the bustle of the casino out past all the tables, and the—
Wait a minute. Is that…?
Aw, fuck. Tiffy Preston is heading my direction and she’s got a huge smile on her face. Jesus Christ, didn’t she get my note? I mean, how much clearer could I have made it? One time only, Tiff. One time only!
Double fuck. She’s waving. I give her a sheepish smile and sink into my chair. Do I wave back? I mean, she’s the big boss’ daughter. Do I have to be polite and shit? Why the hell did I bang the boss’ daughter? She’s an employee. Just like Sis and Britt. Why the fuck didn’t I realize that before my cock got the best of me?
I know why. She kept me up all night working on that proposal. And she got me so fucking hard at the show last night. Add in the exchange at the door when I was ready to jump her and she ambushed me. Well, it was sorta well played on her part. She got me. And that business suit is so not my type.
I have no clue what I was thinking.
I slump down a little more in my chair and give her a wave, hoping this convo won’t get ugly. “Hey,” I say weakly as she beams another smile, still making a beeline for my table.
“Tiffy,” a voice booms from off to my right. The guy from her room last night. Cole. “I was starting to think you were standing me up.”
Tiffy laughs and allows him to give her a polite hug as he puts his hand in the small of her back and leads her away from the bar towards a table on the other side of the restaurant.
Fuck. I sit there, a little embarrassed, then a little relieved that I didn’t have to have that awkward conversation with her.
Dodged another bullet, Novak, I tell myself.
“I heard she tried to fire you this morning,” Sis says, opening another beer and taking away my empty. “And you gave her a run for her money.”
“Yeah.” I chuckle, remembering the meeting. “It was fun. I got her all flustered.”
“You usually do, Fletch.” Another customer calls for Sis and she skips off down the bar to fill his order.
I got Tiffy flustered upstairs as well. She’s quite pretty, if you’re into those career women. Her dress this morning was sophisticated business attire. White, sleeveless, hit just below the knee, and absolutely no cleavage. Even her little white shoes were office-approved two-inch heels.
But now she looks… different. Her pink dress isn’t exactly casual, but not professional either. It’s flirty. It’s short. And very low-cut. Her shoes have some little sparkly things on them and that is definitely a four-inch heel.
Damn. Tiffy Preston doesn’t look as buttoned up as I first thought.
I picture her legs spread open before me. Her soft mewling as I licked her pussy. Her manicured fingertips digging into my hair.
Fuck. I’m hard again.
I watch her as that Cole guy pulls out her chair and then scoots it in as she sits. She’s facing me, so I see her smile a little as he walks around to take his seat.
Hmmmm. What’s going on here?
I study her face, waiting for her to notice me as they chat. But she only has eyes for him. Did she see me earlier? Is she trying to make me jealous by having lunch with another guy after fucking me? After I gave her three goddamned orgasms not three hours ago? Really?
“Pfft,” I mutter under my breath. Gonna take more than that to make me look twice.
But then she licks her lips.
Wait. Did I just imagine that?
Nope. She’s chewing on them too. And then her fingertip sweeps up and traces her plump lower lip as she casually pretends to wipe away a drop of the pink champagne Mr. Fancy-Pants greeted her with. Pink champagne? Who the fuck drinks pink alcohol?
Britt comes to their table with plates of lobster tail and a new bottle of champagne. She laughs with them and I get a little pissed off.
Is Tiffy practicing my seduction tips on that guy? That guy? Really? He’s like ten years older than her. He’s huge. Like six foot four at least. And he’s got to weigh two-twenty. I bet he shops at Big & Tall. She cannot be serious. No way is she interested in him.
And that just pisses me off more. Because, oh, hell the fuck no. I do not dish out trade secrets to a one-night stand only to have her go use them on a worthless prospect. Anyone can see he’s all wrong for her. He is not a possibility. Not at all.
I sit there at my table, sipping my beer as I process what’s happening and how I feel about it. I’m not jealous. I’m not. I’m pissed off. Why the fuck did I give her tips? I charge good money for that shit. Hell, I made Katie sign a six-week contract and I haven’t even given her one tip yet.
And yet Miss My Father Owns This Town is practically giving them away to every wandering eye in the whole place.
And that’s a lot of wandering eyes. All the employees know who she is by now. Britt is chatting them up like they are old friends, probably taking notes.
There it is again. Holy fuck, Tiffy just licked her lips and practically winked at that guy. And Britt saw the whole thing as she set down a dainty cup of chocolate mousse in front of two-timing Preston.
Hell the fuck no. I never let my clients work my magic here at the casino. Otherwise I might lose business. Hell, I’ve helped more than one cocktail waitress hook a rich dude over the past nine months. They paid dearly for it. And signed a NDA. Trade secrets are trade secrets. And I have spent years coming up with my methods. I’m not gonna let her get away with practicing them on this asshole for everyone to see.
I push away from the barstool, straighten my t-shirt, and walk over to ask her just what the fuck she thinks she’s doing.