BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER
SUSCEPTIBLE TO HIM
Risso Family, 1
Lynn Burke
Copyright © 2015
Lia
“I got you a date for tonight.”
My roommate’s words whipped my head around, and my tossed keys landed on the floor inside our apartment door rather than on top of the bookshelf where they belonged. I glared at the spiked red hair, gelled-to-hell atop her head, while kicking the door shut behind me. “You did what?”
Slumped in her usual spot on our tattered couch, Gwen clicked away on her laptop. “You are going out tonight with a royal hottie.”
“A date. With a hottie.”
“That’s what I said.”
Scowling, I flung my purse on the kitchen table and pulled open the fridge door. A quick peek at the meager contents, and my frown deepened. “Did you eat my leftover lo mein?”
“Yup.”
“Bitch.”
“Yup.”
“I had a shitty day, Gwen. I’m not in the mood.”
She snapped her laptop closed, placed it on the coffee table, and stood. “It’s been two years.”
Jack.
My throat tightened, fading my annoyance. The love of my life since thirteen, my high school sweetheart. The one who, our sophomore year in college, promised me forever with a 2-carat stone set in platinum. The one I had expected to spend every Valentine’s Day with until I lay in a cold grave.
“You know what day it is.” The words tore from my lips. “Why are you doing this?”
“Time to move on, Lia.”
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. My neck ached. My eyes burned. As with every evening upon returning home from work, I cursed my life, my choice in jobs. Men and accounting sucked ass. “I can’t.”
“You can, and you will.”
Heaving a sigh, I met her hazel-eyed stare. My best friend since middle school, there was nothing Gwen didn’t know about me. We roomed all through college and then got an apartment in the North End upon graduation. Close enough to home to please my papa, but far enough away to enjoy some independence.
Not that I’d done anything to warrant either of my parents’ disapproval since I signed the lease.
The ring through Gwen’s bottom lip twitched, and a smirk soon followed.
My body stilled. I knew the look well, the type that had always landed us in trouble during our college years. “What did you do?”
“Don’t get mad.”
“What. Did. You. Do.”
She tugged on the frayed edge of her faded Princess Ariel t-shirt. Her pale cheeks flushed. “You know that website I use?”
“Oh, good Lord.” I palmed my hips. “The lure-a-lover or whatever the hell it’s called?”
“Yup.”
I waited, brow raised.
Gwen sucked in a breath. “Well, I decided to make you a profile and find you the perfect match for a little tickle and poke.”
What the hell? My Italian temper screamed for release, but I strode down the hallway before I could spout off shit I’d regret.
“Come on, Lia.” A scramble of feet, and Gwen grabbed my forearm, halting my angry stomping. “You’ve gotta be sick and tired of listening to me and my flavor of the week through these thin walls.”
“Ear buds, Gwen.” I jabbed my fingers toward the sides of my head. “Ear buds.”
“Whatever.” She released my arm. “You need to get laid.”
“I have Mr. Pink.”
She snorted. “Sorry, but there’s no vibrator on the face of this earth that satisfies like a nice thick—”
“Gah. Enough, already.” I turned and moved away.
“One little date. One night of passion to help you get over him.”
I paused inside the dim room I called my haven—the one place I could allow daily tears to flow without fear of someone finding out I still mourned the bastard who broke my heart.
“It’s Valentine’s Day, Gwen,” I whispered.
“Which is precisely why you need this. Ryan Walsh will make you forget Jack the jackass.”
“Ryan Walsh.”
“Yup. Hotter than hell. Black hair long enough to tangle your fingers in, the perfect amount of scruff, and crystal-clear blue eyes. Abs my tongue salivated over. Totally your type.”
My type. The confident jock. Suave.
The womanizer whose girlfriend walks in on him with another woman—a whore—and the whore’s two friends.
“Wait.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Abs? As in half-naked pictures of this Ryan guy?”
“Yup. Won’t lure a lay off that site unless you post some good pics.”
Good pics. “Oh, God. Please tell me you didn’t.”
Gwen chewed the inside of her lip as her smirk faded.
“Not spring break.” My voice escaped as a whine. “Please.”
“I had to, Lia! You’re built like a brick shithouse, and that white bikini let it all hang out.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly is right. Men love curves.”
My glance skimmed over her short stature—the skinny ass in tight, black yoga pants. Okay. Not skinny ass, but skinny everything else. If only I’d been blessed with a smaller-than-sapling waist and perfect apple-sized breasts.
My own melon-like girls jiggled as borderline manic laughter bubbled. “I can’t friggin’ believe you did this.”
“I did it because I’m sick and tired of listening to you bawl every night.”
My smile faded. So much for my private haven.
Gwen straightened to her full, barely five-foot height. “You’re going to go lounge in that bubble bath I drew for you, shave your hairy-ass legs, suck down a glass or two of vino for liquid courage, and go out on a hot date.”
Tears pricked my eyes. Perhaps it was time. I’d wasted two long years mourning the loss of what I had thought to be the perfect relationship. Some guy from a dating website would be a great first outing—one totally uninterested in getting inside a girl’s heart and mind.
A safe, sure date that wouldn’t lead to love and heartache.
“All right.” I dipped my head a single time in agreement. “I’ll go, but I’m not shaving my legs.”
“What the hell?”
“I’m not going to sleep with some guy I’ve only just met, and having hairy-ass legs will ensure I don’t.”
“You’re gross.”
“And you’re a bitch.”
“So you’ve said. Now strip out of that god-awful pinstripe suit…skirt…thingy that looks like death on you, and get in the tub.” Gwen peered at the clock on the wall. “You’ve got less than two hours.”
****
I dabbed on my favorite red lipstick and went back out to the living room.
Gwen looked up from her laptop, her dark eyebrows marred by a frown. “Where’s the black dress I laid out for you?”
“The one that leaves nothing to the imagination?”
“Yup.”
I peered down at my ass-hugging jeans, the ones that made me feel skinny. Sexy. The ones which hid my unshaved legs. “Um…yeah. Didn’t feel like it.”
“You’re meeting him at Valentino’s.”
Shit. Valet-parking, tie-a-necessity Valentino’s. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that earlier?”
“Throw on those red, bend-me-over-the-couch heels, and wear the low-cut silk shirt that matches. You’ll be good to go.”
Stomach alighting like a million hummingbirds, I hurried to do as she said, grumbling the entire time.
“Better?” I asked as I raced back, out of breath.
One last perusal. “Take down your hair.”
I untangled the clip holding my hair up, and my dark tresses tumbled in waves as I speared my fingers through it.
Gwen’s hazel eyes twinkled. “You’re going to knock his socks off, and if he’s not going commando, his briefs too.”
Shaking my head, I pulled on my wool peacoat against the cold, New England evening.
“To you, my friend.” Gwen raised her wineglass as I moved toward the front door. “May his dick be as big as Mr. Pink, and may your screams be loud and—”
“I told you, I have no plans of getting laid,” I said over my shoulder.
She laughed. “Fine, then. Bring him back here…for me.”
I slammed the door, thankful for the second glass of wine I’d guzzled while dressing.
Three blocks.
Only three blocks to Valentino’s, and my first date in over two years.
End of sample chapter