erotic romance, contemporary romance,
romance novel, book boyfriend, billionaire
Flynn Gifford is enjoying a simple
existence in a rural Derbyshire village when Caroline Rogers crashes into his
life, barefoot and panicked.
Their lives could hardly be more
different—she owns a successful luxury hotel chain, and he’s a penniless nomad
who’s off the grid—yet neither can deny the attraction that burns between them.
As Caroline reluctantly starts to open up to him, Flynn finds himself divulging
some secrets of his own, secrets he thought he’d take to his grave.
But can a billionaire and a wild man ever
make a relationship work, or will their secrets keep them apart?
PLEASE NOTE: This book has been previously
published. This version has been re-edited.
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Chapter O
I’m
busy minding my own business, clearing up litter in a field on the outskirts of
Hartington when what can only be described as a crazy woman appears, seemingly
from nowhere. She’s all wild-eyed, and her blonde hair looks damp. Her outfit is
unremarkable, except for the fact she’s got nothing on her feet. Bright red toenails
seem massively out of place in this rural village. She seems out of place. I’m not sure why I think this, but somehow,
she just doesn’t appear to belong. So what the hell is she doing here?
Normally,
I steer clear of other folk unless it’s absolutely necessary, but this woman
looks like she needs help. If she’s crossed the road with her feet like that,
then they’re going to be scratched to buggery, maybe even cut.
Taking
a deep breath, I chuck the empty crisp packetI’ve been holding into
my rubbish bag. Then I place it next to the tree I’m standing beside and step
out into the woman’s path. I’m used to people not seeing me—or behaving like
they haven’t seen me, anyway—so I’m not surprised when she lets out a shriek
that could wake the dead and freezes in front of me.
“Hey, hey,” I say gently, holding my hands up placatingly. “It’s
okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to come and see if you were all right.
I can’t help but notice you’re not wearing any shoes. You’re not hurt, are
you?” If this chick is so desperate to get away that she’s gone without shoes,
then something’s wrong. Seriously wrong.
I
look around, half-expecting to see an angry husband chasing after her, or maybe
even a shopkeeper. She could be a thief. Glancing at her again, I realise that
can’t possibly be the case, unless she’s stolen something invisible. All she
has are the clothes on her back.
She
still hasn’t spoken, so I try again, attempting to make myself appear friendly,
welcoming. Not an easy thing when you’re over six feet tall and pretty wide,
too. Also, the tattoos, and the fact I haven’t had a change of clothes, shave,
or a haircut for a while don’t help. I wouldn’t blame her if she ran away, to
be honest. I must look a fright, but I haven’t peered into a mirror—or even a
window—for a good few days, so I can’t be sure.
“Please answer me. Are you hurt? Is there someone after you?”
She
looks around, then back at me. Shakes her head. I’m confused—if there’s no one
after her, why did she look behind her?
I
crouch down. “Are your feet okay? Cut?”
Finally,
I get a verbal reply. “N-no. I mean, yes. They’re okay. Not cut. At least… I
don’t think so.”
She
lifts each foot in turn, checks the soles. So do I. They’re fine. Now she’s
answered another of my questions, too. Her accent doesn’t sound local. More
like southern England. London, perhaps.
I
suppress an involuntary shudder. The thought of London, the big, dirty, smoky
city, does not impress me. Horrible bloody place. But at least it explains why
the blonde doesn’t fit in. She’s not from around here.
Naturally,
I still have a million and one questions, but I don’t know how to ask them
without bombarding or intimidating her. Not to mention that really, I have no
right to know the answers. I’m a total stranger. But there’s something about
her, about her appearance—and I don’t just mean the lack of footwear—that makes
me want to help her. Or at least get her back where she came from, which is
clearly somewhere in the village. She certainly hasn’t come far, as otherwise
her feet would be filthy and bleeding.
What
the hell is she doing here?
Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning
author of erotic romance novels Stately
Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic
Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of), Eyes
Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award),
The Persecution of the Wolves, Hiding in
Plain Sight, and The Heiress’s Harem and The Dreadnoughts series. Including
novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 170 publications to her name.
Find out more about her and her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/linktree
Victoria Blisse (she/her) is known as the
Queen of Smut, Reverend to the kinky and is the Writer in Residence at Cocktails
and Fuck Tales. She’s also an angel. Ask anyone. She can often be found in a
local BDSM club, running events such as Smut Market or asking mean people to be
wonderfully mean to her. Mancunian Odd Duck, her northern English quirkiness
shows through in all of her stories along with her own particular brand of humour
and romance that bring laughs and warm fuzzies in equal measure. Passion, love
and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life. Find out more at http://victoriablisse.co.uk
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