An Affair Across Times Square
Marietta Hotels Book 1
by Rachell Nichole
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Layla Morgan is tired of getting into trouble, and getting hurt. And she fears her wild nature is going to strike yet again. But maybe this time, she’s finally met the guy that can stand close enough to touch her inner flames, and not get burned. The man across Times Square seems enthralled by her wildness instead of scared in the face of it. He can’t seem to look away as she shows him just how much fun she can have… with herself.
After one glance of silky skin and talented fingers, Tyler Lachlan doesn’t stand a chance of resisting the delicious distraction of the mystery woman from the Marietta Hotel. He’s sure there’s more to her than her sultry voice and mahogany thighs, but he doesn’t know if he’s willing to risk his career to find out.
Could what began as a voyeuristic affair across Times Square develop into something more?
TYLER LACHLAN COULDN’T believe what he saw through his office window. A woman across Times Square, eighteen stories high, scantily clad in the middle of her hotel room, pleasuring herself. And here he sat, staring at her like some sick Peeping Tom. His mother would be so ashamed, but he couldn’t look away. He could feel the way his body reacted to the sight of her. When he looked up from that morning’s briefing documents and gazed across the way to the hotel, he’d never expected to be greeted with such a sight. The minute she had started unbuttoning her blouse, his gaze had followed her every movement, his pulse increasing with every step. Blood pooled low in his groin. He was lucky no one else was in the office at six a.m., or he would have been interrupted.
And wouldn’t that have been a shame.
Now she sat there, her hands still between her legs, frozen. He’d never realized how close together the buildings in the square were, too busy focusing on what happened inside his office rather than through the window. He could only make out some her facial features from this distance, but her body language was clear. He imagined her eyes were dark behind her thick-rimmed glasses. Probably brown, a few shades darker than her decadent mocha skin.
She’d become coiled like a cat the moment she realized she was being watched. He had the sudden desire to lick his lips. What a pervert! He tried to force his eyes closed, tried to spin his chair to the side or look away. He should look away, but he couldn’t move. Apparently neither could she. He stared at her beautiful, brazen body as she did the unthinkable. She smiled at him. She spread her legs wider, and he found himself leaning forward in his desk chair, waiting for more.
She looked right at him as she pulled her hands free from between her legs, gliding them up her mahogany stomach and higher to cup her barely covered breasts. Her bra and panties were darker than her skin—black, perhaps. She maintained eye contact as she moved her hands around her breasts. His cock hardened at the sight. What the hell are you doing?
She didn’t stop, and he couldn’t look away. She pushed a finger into her mouth, sucking it, then trailed a wet path down her chest and slipped it into the front of her bra. She didn’t seem inclined to remove the fabric, and he couldn’t care less. She dipped another finger into her mouth, and he watched, mesmerized, as her other hand slid down her abdomen and between her thighs. He gripped the edge of his desk, desperate for her to continue, though afraid it might kill him if she did.
She didn’t close her eyes this time as she pleasured herself. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and bit it to keep from reaching to relieve his aching cock. It seemed wrong somehow to gain so much pleasure from what she was doing, but he couldn’t help himself. The muscles in his body grew tight in anticipation, his cock throbbing. And still he did nothing but watch until her body shook with her release. She looked at him as she licked her fingers clean. As she stood and walked to the window, pressing her body against the glass, she gave him another smile. Then she kissed the window and closed the curtains.
And he’d never been more turned on in his life.
An Engagement in Paris
Marietta Hotels Book 2
All Mandy Lachlan wanted was her own identity. All she had to do was run away to Paris to find it. Instead, she finds love, a baby, and a marriage proposal.
Julien Chevalier needs a family. Ever since his mother left when he was a kid, he’s been searching for the security and consistency that comes with marriage and babies. So when he falls for the young African American professor at the Sorbonne, he knows immediately this is the woman for him.
Julien needs to get married the same way Mandy needs her freedom. When they find themselves at the impasse of matrimony, one of them will have to compromise what they want and need.
Pregnant? How the hell could she be pregnant? No way. These stupid French baby tests must be wrong, or maybe her French had suddenly left her and she couldn’t read the directions, because there was no way Mandy Lachlan could be pregnant. She was barely getting her shit together. She couldn’t be responsible for someone else’s life.
She’d only known Julien a few months. How could she have been so stupid? She’d let herself get caught up in the romance of a Paris fling. Damn Julien for seducing her. And damn her for letting him.
Mandy dropped her head into her hands, tears running down her face. What was she going to do? She liked Julien, the cocky twenty-year-old who’d swaggered into her class half an hour late and expected his cute smile and the sexy flop of dirty-blond hair would excuse him. Surely his high cheekbones, baby face, and bright green eyes had gotten him out of many sticky situations. She’d kicked him out immediately.
She still wasn’t sure what had made her do it. Perhaps it was his overall attitude. Or maybe because it was her first day teaching in a foreign country and she wanted to establish herself as a tough professor. But most likely, she’d done it because she’d been so irrationally attracted to him from the minute he stepped into the classroom.
Over the past few months, that hadn’t changed at all. He’d dropped her class, and as soon as she signed the paperwork, he’d asked her out. What idiocy had caused her to say yes, she still wasn’t sure. And now here she was, alone in her apartment and wondering what in the world she was going to do. She couldn’t tell Julien they were going to have a baby. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He’d freak.
Resigning herself to breaking up with him, Mandy wrapped up the pregnancy test and hid it in the bottom of the bathroom garbage can. She wiped away the tears and took a deep breath. Maybe one day she could love Julien, but she wasn’t going to let him throw his future away because she’d been stupid enough to get pregnant. Damn those birth control pills: 99.9 percent effective, and she had to be the .1 percent, damn it.
He was young and French. He’d get over her ending their fling. Because that was all it had been. It couldn’t be any more than that. She didn’t do serious relationships. Especially not with someone eight years her junior.
Mandy was so not ready to be a mother, but she didn’t really have a choice now.
The familiar creak of her apartment door announced Julien’s arrival. Mandy gulped in air, trying to calm her stampeding heart and jangled nerves. This wasn’t the first time she’d broken up with someone. So why did the thought fill her with such dread?
“MA BELLE,” JULIEN Chevalier called as he closed the door behind him and set the small bag of groceries on the counter. He loved that Mandy let him stay here. That she was letting him make this small Parisian apartment of hers into their home. They hadn’t been together long, but it was enough time for him to be sure. His African American goddess was the best thing to ever happen to him. He loved her. Head over heels was the English expression. There wasn’t really an equivalent idiom en français, except perhaps follement amoureux—crazily in love.
“Oui?” his beauty asked, emerging from the bedroom.
Julien paused to admire the sight of her coming toward him. A soft pink tank top hugged her curves, showing him a delicious expanse of ebony cleavage. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think her breasts had grown. They looked fuller and more delectable each time he caught a glimpse of them. She’d pulled her shoulder-length black hair back into a ponytail at the base of her neck, leaving the long line of dark skin from her chin to her collarbone exposed for his viewing pleasure.
She smiled, but it didn’t hold the same welcoming warmth it usually did. Mandy had astounded him from day one with her ability to live in the moment. He loved the passion she brought with her everywhere she went, both in and out of the bedroom. He would have loved to take a class with her, to see that passion in action at the Sorbonne, but one did not date one’s professor. Today the hurricane force that was his lover seemed diminished, and he wanted to know why.
As soon as he’d set his sights on seducing the hard-assed firecracker, he’d known he would have to drop her class. No one had ever proved so immune to his charms. She’d kicked him out of the lecture hall, verbally destroying him in perfectly pronounced French, with a few choice words and phrases in English. He’d fallen in love with her right then.
Julien walked across the space that separated them and wrapped his arms around his belle, Mandy. He kissed her cheek softly in greeting. “How was your day?” he asked.
It didn’t sound as if her day had gone well, but he’d learned quickly that she would tell him something when she damned well pleased and not a moment before. He could try to weasel it out of her all he wanted, but it wouldn’t do him much good. Instead, he traced small designs on the soft fabric of her shirt and kissed his way down her exposed neck.
“Bon. Well, I brought stuff home from the market to make duck à l’orange. It’ll be ready soon,” Julien said between light flicks of his tongue.
He loved the way they could switch back and forth between English and French with fluid ease. Normally they spoke a mix of Franglais, as Mandy called it.
“Okay. I’ll get out of your way. Let me know if you need anything.”
Mandy pulled away from his touch, apparently in no mood for his seduction techniques. She never remained aloof for long, but he would let her think she’d won this time, at least until dinner was over. Tonight was the night.
A Love Affair in Las Vegas
Marietta Hotels Prequel
Dawn Jansen has only ever wanted one thing: to provide a life for her daughter in New York City, away from the small-town minds of her family and her upbringing. She has fought hard to finally make it to manager at the Hauteman hotel, and one of her first duties is to attend a conference at the Marietta Las Vegas to learn all she can about running the show. But when she arrives in Las Vegas, her plans to learn as much as she can on a professional level, turns into learning far more about herself than her job. She may get a second-chance at this whole love thing after all.
Barnaby “Barney” Garrison has always had one goal in life: to help people. He’s found his calling as manager of the Marietta Times Square, and since his past failed relationship, has focused all of his energy on being the best manager he can be. This year, that means helping to run the Marietta Hotels second annual Hoteliers’ Conference in Vegas. But as soon as he notices Dawn in the crowd, his focus instantly splits, his desires for her swift and fierce. When he realizes the attraction is mutual, he doesn’t waste any time seducing her to his bed. But when he suspects she’s hiding something from him, he worries that maybe he’s just destined to attract two-timing women to his life.
Can what began as a fling in Vegas turn into something more once they’re home in New York? Or does what happen in Vegas truly stay in Vegas?
DAWN PULLED HER BOTTOM lip between her teeth, trying to be patient and watch him strip.
“Too slow,” she finally proclaimed.
He was taking too damned long to get naked. While she was enjoying the show as he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, she was hungry for more. She stepped closer and made quick work of his buttons, then slid the soft satin down his arms, revealing acres of ebony skin to her gaze. He was far more muscular than he looked when he had clothes on. She molded her hands up and down his shoulders, mesmerized by the feel of them, by the texture of hot skin beneath the tips of her fingers. He inhaled sharply as she caressed down his chest and over taut brown nipples.
She raised her gaze from his chest to his face to ensure that was a gasp of pleasure, and was greeted with dark, hooded eyes half-closed in ecstasy. Oh, yes, he liked that very much. She reached for the belt at his waist, eager to see what else he liked. She shouldn’t be doing this. She knew it. But it felt so right. It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s touch. As if he knew what she was thinking, Barnaby reached for her, the wide pads of his fingers tracing delicate lines across her cheeks as she unhooked his belt. His fingers stroked down to the sides of her neck and her sheath tightened, aching for more.
She undid his pants and worked them down over his ass and thighs until the fabric slid freely to his ankles. His fingers had reached the edge of her blouse and he left a trail of gooseflesh in his wake as he traced the edge from her shoulders to her cleavage. She shivered. He bent his head and kissed her right collarbone, then her left, his soft, thick lips tantalizing her skin. She wanted to take her time, but she also wanted him inside her right that second. The two sides warred within her. Take her time and savor every inch of him, or skip right to the best part? Both. Damn it. She wanted to have her cake and eat him, too. Was that so bad?
She tugged the base of her shirt out of her skirt and leaned back so she could pull her shirt off. It was then that panic sunk in. Fuck. How long had it been since anyone had seen her naked? Definitely since before Hailey was born. Back when she was just a little thick around the middle, before she had stretch marks and a mother’s body.
“Damn,” Barnaby said, yanking her attention back to him.
She watched his face closely, waiting for him to register all the imperfections she had spent years cataloguing. He was smiling at her. And the heat in his eyes hadn’t cooled one bit. He tore his gaze from her just long enough to bend and remove his shoes and socks before pulling his pants off the rest of the way and tossing them aside. Then his gaze was travelling up her body from her small black high heels, up over legs, up the curve of her hips, and the swell of her post-baby belly, to breasts that had once been perkier, and finally, to her face. With each inch of her body that he inspected, the hunger etched on his face grew, his eyes gleamed brighter through his glasses. When his gaze finally met hers, he looked like he could devour her in one bite.
Gone was the mild-mannered, laid-back somewhat geeky guy who had led the presentation, and then low-key flirted with her for hours. In his place was a grown man who wanted her as much as she wanted him.
And it was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.
She launched herself at him then, yanking at her skirt as her lips touched his again. He wrapped his arms around her, sliding soft hands up her back and sending shivers coursing through her. He zeroed in on her bra and worked at unhooking it as his lips parted and his tongue dueled with hers. She undid her skirt and kicked it aside, all while he ravished her mouth. She couldn’t get enough of the taste of him. He stopped fiddling with her bra, and she broke the kiss for a moment so she could bend to reach her shoes.
“Um,” he said.
She looked up, and that sheepish look was edging back into his eyes. She laughed. “You’d like me to leave these on?”
He nodded. “If that wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
Fuck, he was kind of adorable like this, all unsure of himself and sweet. She could tell by the bulge in his boxers that he was eager, yet here he was, making a small request and waiting for her to yay it or nay it. Most guys she’d been with would have simply issued her a command to leave on the heels. While an assertive man in the bedroom had its benefits, she found herself liking this power dynamic much more.
Rachell Nichole is a contemporary erotic romance author, who loves writing sexy romances about memorable characters who have to fight to hold on to love.
Rachell holds two undergraduate degrees, one in Professional Writing and the other in French. She also received a Master of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction at Seton Hill University. She is the author of The Marietta Hotels Series, Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce, Gingerbread Photography, To Sir, Belle By Night, and Queen of Hearts.
Rachell lives in Pennsylvania with a mountain of books, the love of her life, and an invisible cat who likes to snuggle.