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The love of her life isn’t the man she expects but he just might be the man she never saw coming.
Cass Jensen writes hot books and likes her life as an author. She’s got the material things she desires, good friends and a side career singing with the band. What more could she ask for? A sexy man to warm her bed during the chilly Ohio nights—that’s what she wants. Someone to make her blood sizzle and her heart race. She heads to California to help cast the movie being made from one of her books. She’s not interested in dating another actor, but what if the man she needs is on the other side of the audition table?
Logan Malone is known as one of the biggest playboys in all of Hollywood. He’s rumoured to be dating half the single ladies in town and romancing the other half. There’s only one problem—Logan doesn’t want to be the player any longer. He wants a strong career and an even stronger woman in his life. When he meets Cass, he knows she’s the one he’s been looking for. But Cass comes with her own complications. Can he handle being her man or will the glare of the media be too much for them to handle as a couple?
He’s about to find out just how hard he’ll have to work in order to be her man, but he’s up for the job…
Publisher's Note: This book has previously been released elsewhere. It has been revised and re-edited for re-release with Totally Bound Publishing.
General Release Date: 5th July 2016
Trouble. That’s what most women were—too much trouble! When Logan Malone’s last movie had ended, so had his love life. He’d decided women weren’t worth the effort—not right now.
Well, no, that wasn’t the case—not entirely. Red-hot American blood still charged through his veins and he needed a woman, someone soft in all the right places, tough as nails and unafraid to fight to warm his bed. Why not go for totally impossible?
Logan shifted in his seat. The olive-colored plastic creaked and scratched against the ceramic tile floor. The other three men in the drafty room glared as though he’d ruined their concentration.
“Quiet,” the blond man to his right growled.
“Sorry,” Logan muttered. He caressed the worn cover of the book jacket as he convinced himself he could play the romantic lead better than the rest of the competition sitting in the drab hallway. Who else could embody the sexy, romantic boy-next-door role better than Romeo Malone, the hunk of the silver screen? He smiled, but quickly lost faith. He faced the biggest roadblock of his career—convincing the directors, producer and author that he was the man for the job. Yeah, another impossible task.
He sighed. Was he the man? Logan took a deep breath to relax before another glance at his competition. Mark Lanigan stood hunched in the corner with his index finger in his ear as he spoke on his cell phone. Shit.
Logan flexed his jaw and turned away. His heart dropped to his stomach with a sickening thud. Mark Lanigan wasn’t a slouch in the looks department. His baby blues melted even the iciest of hearts with ease. Romance publishers begged for his services as a cover model and Mark had the honor of being selected the ‘Sexiest Man of the Decade’ according to Delish magazine. Last year the man had won an award for his performance of a baseball phenom in love with a farmer’s daughter in Flowers in the Outfield.
Logan ground his teeth. He should’ve had that role, but no! He’d spent the two-week casting call screwing around with Katrina Butterfield, romping in the Virgin Islands, answering her darned booty call and living up to his womanizing Romeo image. When he realized he’d forfeited his chance at the part of the year, he’d just about wrung her pretty little neck. He sighed. At least he’d learned from his misstep.
Logan gripped the unforgiving black rubberized armrests. He had to get his career in order. Andrew Speedle exited the conference room through the thick wooden auditorium door. Logan’s heart plummeted to the floor. Great. More competition he didn’t need. Andrew’s crooked smile could be both sinister and sweet at the same time. His rumpled, straight-out-of-bed look graced the covers of countless magazines. And he was only twenty-seven! Not only that—he had three supporting roles under his belt, with a lead coming up at the end of the year. Audiences had flocked to see his last film, making it the third highest grossing movie of the year. Andrew could play the sexy hunk-next-door role in his sleep and Logan hated him for it.
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. Shit. Another part down the drain and he hadn’t even tried out yet.
Please let them turn him down. I can do this.
“Malone? Are you giving in already?”
Logan’s gaze met Andrew’s glare. “They laughed at your sappy credits, didn’t they?”
Andrew gave him the finger. “Piss off, Malone. Once she finds out you’ve screwed the producer and the director, that writer will have your balls in her pocket. Go home and try for a fitting job, something you can handle without dialogue. This ain’t the role for you.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks, asshole.”
Andrew sauntered away. Jealousy crashed in Logan’s body like a tidal wave. What did that man have that he didn’t? He mentally tallied his own assets—broad shoulders, six-pack abs, toned legs and tight buns. Women drooled over his hazel eyes and perfect grin, and he looked hot with any hairstyle. So what was the issue? He was the man for the job without a doubt—case closed.
He sighed. That line of reasoning worked, but Andrew had roles and money, lots of money. A tight ass meant nothing without dollars in the bank.
He thumbed through the book. There were no answers in the battered pages, but simply holding the paperback gave him comfort. He could identify with the hero who wanted true love and honesty with no pretensions. He shook his head. That wasn’t possible in Hollywood. Maybe not even in California. Possibly not the world.
Logan flipped to the black and white picture of the author on the inside back cover of the book. Her dowdy professional clothing covered her figure and she smiled sweetly over her shoulder. He’d stared at her so many times and dragged the book around so much over the past three months that the edges of the paper had ruffled. He wondered if she was the actual writer or a model meant to trick the reader. Women that beautiful didn’t write romance. Or did they?
Desire curled in his stomach. If she weren’t a model, he’d love to tangle his fingers in her dark hair, kiss her lips raw and make her scream with pleasure. Did her skin feel as soft as it looked? Logan guessed it would and she’d do just fine as his arm candy for the premiere. Hell, he’d love to love her for quite a long time.
Love? Too bad it was all a load of crap and nothing more than an act of foreplay involving fictitious emotions. Who actually believed in love? Logan drew a deep breath and let it slide between his lips. He’d never meet a woman who could change his mind and his heart. Women like that didn’t exist. Not that lasting relationships mattered much. Paying the bills—that was important. Keeping up the movie star lifestyle had drained his already dwindling bank account. Another flop would mean the end of his career. Career over before the age of thirty-three, hard to envision…but it looked like a very real possibility.
Maybe it was time to go home. No, he’d begged too long and hard to get the chance for the audition. He couldn’t back down now. I will earn this role.
“Malone?”
Jostled back to reality, Logan looked up. His throat constricted at the sight of another ex. Perfect. “Well, hello, Nikita. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Is it my turn, or did you fill the role? I saw Speed walk out earlier.”
Nikita Cline pushed her black-rimmed cat’s eye glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “It’s your turn. We haven’t made a decision, yet, but you might do.”
Logan felt her heated gaze travel the length of his body. He shivered. He should switch to a different production—one without Nikita. He pasted a wolfish grin on his face and stood to meet her in the doorway. “Well, I’d better dazzle your socks off, then, shouldn’t I?”
She grabbed his arm before he entered the room. “You could dazzle other things off instead.” Her lips grazed his ear. “I miss you.”
Logan shivered again as her perfume wafted to his nose, demanding his undivided attention. He didn’t miss the arguments, the accusations, the experimentations she loved so much. She liked to play the field with multiple partners, toys, role-play and whatever she could find for kink. He liked a little kink, but she wasn’t his style. “How about I just pass the audition, huh?”
He spotted the women at the table and pasted on his most wicked smile. His voice caught in his throat and a ripple of excitement ran the length of his spine at the sight of his audience. The writer? Was she really there? Or did she moonlight as a screenwriter? Maybe a friend of the producers? Oh, my, my, my.
Nikita gestured to the table. “I’d like to introduce the heads of this production. This is Maggie Bowles, our associate producer.” She shrugged a shoulder to the woman on the right. “And this is the writer, Cass Jensen.”
Logan forced a nod. Maggie had worked on Break and co-directed Maia, both mega box office hits. She had a reputation for fairness and impartiality with her actors and crew. But the other woman—oh man. He blinked. Cass Jensen penned Wrong Turn, Slingshot and toyed with his fantasies from the safety of a black and white photo. Crossbeam Studios had translated three of her earlier novels into box office hits. Now she sat across the room, in living color and completely unaware of his innermost desires.
Had the heat just kicked on? He licked his lips. Something had happened and not just between his legs.
It seemed as if everyone else in the cavernous conference room had evaporated except him and Cass. She wasn’t his normal blonde model-type, quite the opposite. She had curves and porcelain skin. Her dark chocolate-colored hair glittered slightly under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lighting, and she brushed the silky strands off her face, revealing her lack of a wedding ring.
Score!
Her mouth curled into a faint smile, accompanying the sparkle in her startling blue-gray eyes. Color rushed into her pale cheeks.
Oh man.
Logan’s eyes slipped greedily over her body. Would she flush during sex? The light scent of her perfume muddled his brain. Lilac? Rose? Whatever it was, it was enticing. Logan swallowed hard. Tightness invaded his chest. Such a rapid reaction to a woman knocked him for a complete loop. Cass was the kind of woman who ended up being a cherished lover, not a plaything. He glanced at her once more. His throat went dry. Damn, if she blushed too much longer, he’d be in trouble. If he got time alone with her, he’d be a goner. How would her hands feel gliding along his body? Heaven, probably.
Wendi Zwaduk is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to BDSM and LGBTQ themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com and the former AllRomance Ebooks. She also writes under the name of Megan Slayer.
When she’s not writing, she spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice.
You can find out more about Wendi on her website or on her blog. You can also find her on Instagram, Bookbub and Amazon.
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