“What are you doing?” he asked. “I’m not sick.”
“No, but I am without you.” I stood up and got in his face. “I did not tell you about the moonlighting because I was embarrassed. Nobody knows about it. I have a whole wig and everything. Victor’s pay is shit, but I just started taking these hobbies more seriously. I should have told you. There was nothing deceitful about it, except that I was insecure and had trouble believing it myself.”
Ian looked down at me for a while without saying anything. Then he murmured, “So, you’re sick?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“I’ve been feeling under the weather too.” He smirked. “Maybe some drunch is a start to feeling better.”
This brought a whole smile to my face that I just threw my arms around his neck and kissed him before whispering, “I missed you.”
“Me too, Ivory, slash, Ivey,” Ian quipped.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated it again. “No more secrets.”
“I don’t like secrets as much as I don’t like people that want my help but didn’t take the vaccines,” Ian commented.
“Understood.” I nodded. “No secrets.”
“Now, for our drunch.” Ian laughed, and we unpacked and ate the food.
THE END
I hope you are enjoying the Lunchtime Chronicles (LTC)! Hot, short and sexy books to read and go back to work.
Keep reading for Bottoms Up by L. Loren. (Chapter 1 Excerpt)
Bottoms Up by L. Loren
Summary
Harley
I was mortified when my best friend tricked me into spending my birthday weekend on a luxury yacht full of sugar daddies. I may like older men, but I don’t make it my business to sleep with them for trinkets.
When the lecherous old man refused to take no for an answer, my hero, clad in a pristine white captain’s uniform saved the day.
Now all I want is for the silver fox named Mateus to take me to his cabin and make me his.
Mateus
It was love at first sight. Well, maybe it was lust, but who cares. All I could think about was capturing the heart of the beautiful woman on my preference sheet. She was a charter guest, which meant off limits.
When that bastard put his hands on her in front of me, it changed the game. All bets were out the window and I went into protective mode. I played a game of Mr. Steal Your Girl and won. Now she’s mine and I’m never letting go. I have an insatiable thirst that only she can quench.
BOTTOMS UP is an interracial erotic romance (BWWM) with a HEA. It is a part of the Lunchtime Chronicles series which can be read as standalone novels.
WARNING: This book contains explicit sex and graphic language.
Bottoms Up: Ch. 1
Harley
My name is Harley Madison. I am a six-foot-tall, dark skinned black woman with an MBA from the University of Miami. I’m a trust fund baby who owns her own business, and I am about to go to jail for murdering my best friend. You know why? Because, of my addiction. Don’t worry. No druggie here. Well, not in the traditional sense of the word. I am addicted to caffeine! Coffee! The good stuff. If I don’t get my fix before I see my bestie, there is going to be big trouble.
Paradyce, the chick I consider closer than blood, has been texting me nonstop for the last half hour. She was the only one who contacted me this early in the morning. I groggily swiped at the screen of my phone to stop the offending sound and sat up in bed. Ugh, I needed more sleep. After reading the texts I wanted to throw the phone across the room. That was the lack of coffee in my system talking. Generally, I was a happy go lucky type of girl, but not before my infusion.
Dyce: The Big 3-0 is coming!
Dyce: Did you forget?
Did she really think I had forgotten her thirtieth birthday was coming up? I shook my head in disbelief. Our birthdays were a day apart and we have celebrated them together since we were thirteen. I was trying to think of a response when the phone chimed again.
Dyce: Hello!
Dyce: Where RU?
Dyce: Answer me
Dyce: RU Sleep?
Dyce: Hit me up
If she kept this up, I was going to have a huge headache to go along with my grogginess.
Dyce: On God. If u don’t call me, we’re done.
Dyce: Did you hook up last night?
Damn, now that she mentioned it, I could use a good piece of dick to take the edge off. My mood swings have been out of order lately. Like mama used to say, a nice piece of dick could cure all that ails you. Problem was, the only one I ever experienced was attached to a man who was incapable of staying faithful. Hence the reason I finally kicked his cheating ass to the curb a few weeks ago. I drifted into my own thoughts about my ex, Stanley.
As Paradyce continued to bombard me with text messages about her plans for our birthdays, I began to get more and more intrigued. I should have some say in what I did and where I went for my own birthday, but she took so much pleasure in planning I usually just went along with it.
Dyce: Chica, I have secured a sponsor for our birthday celebration. We are headed to the Caribbean. Sun, fun, a yacht and lots of hot deck hands.
Me: Sponsor? Kill me now!
Dyce: Have you had your coffee? You need it.
Me: I barely had any sleep. You know we had inventory at the store last night. I just laid down about two hours ago. GO AWAY!
When the phone chimed a couple of seconds later, I pulled the duvet over my head and kicked my feet like a two-year-old having a tantrum. Keeping my head under the cover, I read the text with one eye open.
Dyce: NOT MY PROBLEM! Get your tired ass up! We have shopping to do. Be there in 15.
This chick here. I groaned because I knew she would not let me sleep. Dragging myself out of bed, I found my way into the bathroom to get ready for an exhaustive day of shopping on Lincoln Road. I hated shopping in those ostentatious designer stores with overpriced clothes that most people couldn’t afford, but somehow managed to wear. It was my worst nightmare come true, but it was a part of my bestie duties. If I didn’t love the girl so much, I would bail.
Dyce was one of those people who live for the fashions, darling. It was an expensive habit that I had no interest in partaking. Living in a tropical climate meant I could wear as little as possible at all times and I loved it. I would be a beach bum if my father would have allowed it. Board shorts, bra tops, and anything that would show off my canvas of tattoos was my comfort zone. I didn’t need red bottoms pinching my feet when I had the sickest collection of sneakers in Dade County. Nor did I need designer dresses cutting off my circulation, when I could just throw on shorts and a tank and be happy. Relaxation and comfort were my main concerns when buying clothes, not labels and who wore it best competitions on social media.
The fact that Dyce and I were besties shocked a lot of people. We looked nothing alike. I was tall to her short. She was curvy to my athletic figure. I was a delicious shade of ebony, while her Cuban heritage made for a lightly tanned skin tone. One of the main differences was, she flunked out of college freshman year and I opened my own internet business during my sophomore year, which I later sold for millions, obtained my degree in Marketing and went on to earn my MBA all before the age of 25. My success caused people to think I was some sort of Alexis Ohanian. Nope, far from it. I was nowhere near as driven as the man who captured Serena’s heart. My business projects were always a way for me to have fun. When I was done with that part of my life, I had no problem selling the business and moving on. I believe I was a gypsy in a former life.