Heres a little teaser for those of you who havent read Fake It. Its the story of a workaholic who doesnt have time for a boyfriend, and so shes made one up. Only she now she has to produce him as her date to a wedding -- and she ends up asking the biker next door. Heres a brief snippet! “When is this wedding again?” Jake asked. “Friday—I leave Friday, anyway. The wedding itself is on Saturday.” Anna wanted to throw her hands up in the air. “It’s just not going to work. It’s too soon, and I’m never going to find anyone. The whole thing is stupid.” “Not so stupid,” Jake said. “Maybe you should just give up and take me as your date.” “Oh, come on.” Anna heard the shrillness in her voice. Smooth. “Jake, I barely know you.” “Your housemate Erin knows my family, and we’ve already had a nice chat.” His lips twisted. “I could also give you references, if you’d like.” “But this would completely suck for you,” Anna protested. “My ex is a nightmare and you would hate all of my friends. You would think the whole thing is ridiculous—because it is.” He just watched her, maddeningly, his smile curving as she tried to sputter out her refusals. “You don’t want to do this. Trust me.” “I just said I did.” “But—you can’t. You wouldn’t—” Anna stopped, flustered. What was happening here? Was she actually turning down a viable date? “There’s so much you would have to memorize about Dave. There’s no way you’re going to want to do that.” Jake just lifted his brows. “You know, for someone who’s just met me, you seem to know a lot about what I would and wouldn’t want to do.” “I don’t! I mean—I can guess. But I just... can’t.” Anna swallowed. “Look, I appreciate it. If I strike out tonight, I’ll call you. How about that?” “That sounds good.” Jake signaled to the bartender. “So I guess I should make sure you have my number.” “Oh, or I could—” Before Anna could complete the sentence, Jake had a pen in his fingers. They were both leaning on the bar, their faces inches apart. He tipped the pen to its side, sliding its base alongside her jaw. The cool metal on her flushed skin startled her, and Anna’s gaze jumped to his. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable. “Hold out your hand, Anna,” he said, as if they weren’t in the middle of a crowded bar, in front of everyone. “That’s not necessary,” she said quickly. “I have other people’s cards—just use—just write on one of those.” His gaze grew hotter, more intense. “That’s no good,” he said. “You might lose it.” Anna hesitated, then something triggered deep inside her, a dangerous flicker of enjoyment. She knew that flicker, remembered it from somewhere, even as life and work and responsibility had taught her to keep it doused, out of commission. It had been a long time since she’d let that fire burn. But now Jake Flynn was positioned in front of her with gasoline and a blowtorch. Someone cleared his throat beside them, and a disgruntled voice rang out. “Excuse me, I’m Gary, and your friend Lacey—” “Take off, Gary,” Jake said without turning around. His gaze held hers. “Anna?” Anna held out her hand, and Jake held her arm steady, cradling it with his fingers. Sensation rocketed through her at the intimate touch, intensifying sharply as she felt the smooth slide of ink on her skin. He wrote languidly, the pen tracing a sensual line over the hyper sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist, all the way down until it nestled into her palm. By the time he was finished, Anna was amazed she was still conscious. Then he glanced at her. “Think it’s dry? Or should I blow on it?”
Posted on: Thu, 31 Jul 2014 00:21:37 +0000
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