The first in a new erotic contemporary romance series, Inappropriate Thoughts is a scorching mix of desire, sex, love and slightly inappropriate comedy.
Jillian Grayson is a disillusioned divorcée and best-selling romance novelist who can't write a chapter without her hunky male heartthrob suffering ED, an STD, or even worse. Brian Nash is a tennis-obsessed, college senior who's unlucky in love and the roommate and best friend of Jillian's son, Rob. When Rob brings Brian home for spring break and he meets the surprisingly young and also tennis passionate Jillian, their shared interest quickly develops into an intense mutual attraction. After nearly giving in to their feelings, they hatch a plan, while under the influence (of something more than just the perfect Miami night), to be friends with "partial" benefits complete with rules to define the boundaries. Will the lonely pair continue with this distinctive relationship, actually explore their desires or will they discover all of it is a really bad idea?
Excerpt
Jillian
Grayson sat up in bed, typing away on the keyboard of her laptop
computer. She wore a nightshirt that wasn’t all that sexy, but what
she was typing was… or at least it started out that way...
Dallas
lay in bed, unable to sleep and wondering if Katrina was suffering
the same fate—and for the very same reason. Did she want him as
much as he wanted her? Katrina was but a few steps away, yet he dare
not go to her, for he was a guest, and then there was Katrina’s
mother, who was just across the hall. For Dallas, sleep came minutes
later, but it would be short- lived, for soon Katrina stood over him,
completely nude and pondering how to proceed...
Dallas
must have been in a deep sleep, since he didn’t feel it when
Katrina peeled the sheet carefully off him, exposing his muscular
body, six-pack abs, and sizeable manhood. She quivered when his
impressiveness sprang into view. For a long time, she kneeled next to
the bed, just studying his body and savoring his scent. Taking his
sex into her hand, Katrina worked it until it was rigid while she
watched him sleep. When Dallas woke, he looked into her eyes,
swallowed hard, and whispered, "I’ve been waiting for you."
Just
as fast as his sex expanded, it lost its firmness and flopped against
his leg. Katrina looked down at it in disappointment and then moaned
in frustration. "What’s wrong?"
Dallas
said sheepishly, "Sometimes that happens to me. Sorry. Ever
since I cheated on my wife with that whore in the pool, I haven’t
been able to—"
Jillian
stopped typing and thought she might be heading in the wrong
direction with this. How did her ex-husband get into the story? But
then again, most men are assholes, she thought.
Picking
up the glass of wine from her nightstand, she took a long sip and
then replaced it. She highlighted the last paragraph about Dallas’s
problem, hit one key, and it was gone. Just like his boner. She
laughed out loud.
Jillian
wasn’t exactly in the correct frame of mind to write at the moment,
especially on this particular subject. She stared straight ahead and
wondered about the likelihood of Dallas slipping in the shower,
striking his head, and dying instantly. Or maybe an earthquake could
strike, and Dallas’s amazingly perfect body would be trapped under
a giant beam.
What
the hell kind of name was Dallas anyway? She thought she might want
to give her character a real name like Stewart but figured no one
would believe that a guy named Stewart could give you six consecutive
orgasms in one night.
What
was she doing, anyway, writing novels about people having amazing sex
when she’d never had any? Okay, maybe once or twice twenty years
ago, but none since then. She had no right. If people knew that she
was the one writing these books, they wouldn’t buy them. She was a
fraud.
Jillian
picked up her wineglass and took another long drink. She grinned,
wiped those unhelpful thoughts from her mind, and started typing
again...
Katrina
took his sex in her hand and worked it until it was rigid. As she
studied it closely, Katrina noticed two red bumps on the underside of
his pathetic excuse for a penis. She recoiled in horror—
Jillian
hit the backspace key to erase everything after Dallas’s "sex"
started expanding. Romance novels about erectile dysfunction and STDs
weren’t exactly big sellers. She closed the lid on the laptop and
tossed it gently onto a pillow at the foot of the bed. She emptied
her wineglass with one last sip and turned on the television.
Jillian
Grayson wrote under the pen name of Jaclyn West. She’d written
fourteen bestsellers so far and had more money than she needed
flowing in, so her next novel could wait. The book royalties had paid
for her large, beautiful house in Miami. She still had plenty of
money, even after the divorce, which forced her to part with nearly
half of her earnings to her bastard ex-husband.
She’d
never forget the day she came home early from a book tour and found
George performing oral sex on that slut in the pool, the pool she had
paid for and an act he rarely, if ever, did for her. Jillian always
thought he hated oral sex or, more specifically, he hated the giving
part. But there he was, naked, standing in the shallow end of the
pool, and going to work on some other woman as she floated in the
pool on a ring, which Jillian had also paid for. The pool oral sex
thing actually looked like it might be kind of fun, and Jillian often
wondered why George had never once tried that on her.
That
day, when Jillian spotted them from the second floor balcony off
their bedroom, she had watched for a little longer than she’d care
to admit. Maybe that was because all her erotic romance writing had
left her desensitized to sex, at least a little. At first, it didn’t
seem real; it was as if she was visualizing a scene for a book, not
watching her husband cheat on her.
When
she finally came back to earth, Jillian left the house and went to
the side of the pool. She snuck up on the adulterous couple and stood
there until the woman being serviced noticed they had an audience.
The woman tapped George on the shoulder to get his attention. When
George turned around, he had a guilty look on his face that Jillian
would never forget. Jillian wouldn’t let the naked woman back in
the house to get her clothes. She simply threw the clothes out the
door. The woman was forced to get dressed outside and shamefully
leave through the back gate. George went into the house, got dressed,
and left through the front door. It was the last time he ever set
foot inside.
Jillian
didn’t cry that day; instead, she put on a pair of kitchen gloves
and retrieved the ring float from the pool. When her attempts to
drain the float of air through the valve seemed to be taking too
long, she stabbed it ten times with scissors. That could possibly
have been overkill, but it did the trick and gave her a much-needed
outlet for her rage. Jillian called a company to have the pool
drained, scrubbed, and refilled at the cost of fifteen hundred
dollars. It was worth it, she thought, because she would never have
been able to dip a toe in the pool until every last drop of that
contaminated water was replaced.
Authors of contemporary and erotic romance, Luke Young is Ian Dalton - well, sort of… Ian Dalton is Luke Young’s erotic alter ego. Don’t read this to say that Luke’s stories are anything less than steamy, but there’s still some of the erotic play-by-play that is left to the imagination. With the Ian Dalton editions, nothing is left to the imagination. Well, almost nothing, anyway. In essence, Each book on the Luke side has an expanded version available on the Ian side.
His Friends With… Benefits and Victoria Wilde series are based on the same laugh out loud stories with the Ian versions containing about 7000 words (around thirty pages) of more explicit and expanded sex scenes. So whether you like your contemporary romance regular or extra spicy, he thinks he has something for you. To get a feel for how the versions compare, please check out the "Who Is Ian Dalton" page on his website: http://lukeyoungbooks.com/who-is-ian-dalton/
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