by Tessa Layne
SIN & TONIC
TESSA LAYNE MIRA LYN KELLY R.L. KENDERSON K.C. ENDERS KAYTI MCGEE
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, stored, or transmitted in any form or in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations included in critical articles and reviews. For information, please contact the author(s).
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of copious amounts of wine, long walks, and the author’s overactive imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Wild Thang copyright © 2019 by Tessa Layne
All In copyright © 2019 by Mira Lyn Kelly
French Kiss copyright © 2019 by Renae Au and Lara Kennedy
Irish Legend copyright © 2019 by K.C. Enders
Redheaded $lut copyright © 2019 by Kayti McGee
Paperback Edition ISBN-13: 978-1-948526-19-7
EPUB Edition ISBN-13: 978-1-948526-18-0
Cover Art by Melissa Gill Designs
Formatting by Erin Tolbert Author Services
Contents
Foreword
About the Anthology
Wild Thang- USA Today Bestselling Author, Tessa Layne
All In- USA Today Bestselling Author, Mira Lyn Kelly
French Kiss- R. L. Kenderson
Irish Legend- K.C. Enders
Redheaded $lut - USA Today Bestselling Author, Kayti McGee
Foreword
I can’t stop writing about Kansas City.
I used to think it was because I was born and raised here, and there’s no doubt that’s part of it—I’m one of those hometown girls who has lots and lots (probably too much) uncritical affection for her city of origin. But after years of working in a local history museum, I’ve got another theory, a theory that explains why my hometown continues to spark ideas and passions and voices in every different medium possible.
Kansas City is a town of opposites.
North and south. East and west. Old and new.
As a border town during the beginning of its life, Kansas City functioned as a marker of boundaries and as a signpost to a new life, a threshold for freedom and fresh starts. Later in its history, Kansas City was a different kind of liminal space—a space between legal and criminal, between good and bad, where bootlegging, jazz, and corruption all twined together to make a city of wild legends . . .
Which is why Kansas City is such a glorious setting for love stories.
Our little river town is a place of new beginnings, of pushing frontiers, a place where you can be a little uncivilized. You can reinvent yourself or rediscover a part of yourself that’s been lost. You can embark on a wild new fling or wake up and realize your best friend is actually the love of your life. You can find magic in a little bar called There in Spirits, and you can be swept off your feet by Irish bartenders, smoldering bar owners, bossy hoteliers, passionate billionaires…
Well, you get the picture.
The beautiful thing about this city is not only how inspiring it is, but how passionate we are about stories in general. Kansas City is home to an ever-growing circle of authors writing romance all over the genre—sweet, sexy, funny, angsty, comforting, dark—and we have a thriving community of readers who support romance at every level, from our innovative independent bookstores to our vibrant reader events to our community-driven libraries. In fact, it was at one of these libraries, the Woodneath Library Center (a branch of the Mid-Continent Library system) that the idea for this anthology was first incepted and many of us brought together. To the Woodneath team, especially Morgan Perry and David Burns, we credit the vision of a Kansas City-centered romance anthology. (Also, Woodneath’s annual RomanceGenreCon, led by Morgan and her brilliant compatriots, is the perfect example of Kansas City’s love affair with the romance genre—a celebration of romance for readers and writers that brings in the leading lights of the genre from all over the country to lead free workshops and events.)
It’s safe to say that the only thing more powerful than a love story set in Kansas City is the love story between Kansas City and romance itself. Whether it’s our wild and boozy past or our vibrant (and also boozy) present, this city has everything to offer a reader looking for love. As do Sin & Tonic’s authors: K.C. Enders, Mira Lynn Kelly, R.L. Kenderson, Tessa Layne, and Kayti McGee.
So mix yourself one of our signature, story-themed cocktails, sit back, and let us take you on a sweet and swoony (and tipsy) journey to a positively sinful happily ever after.
--Sierra Simone
Summer 2019
Olathe, Kansas
Bar, pub, speakeasy, tavern, cocktail lounge. What do all these have in common?
They're places for drinking, places for talking, places for meeting, and in this anthology, they're places to fall in love. Pull up a seat, grab a drink, and enter the worlds of five romance authors for some steamy heroes, strong heroines, and sexy-as-hell sin. Cocktail recipes to seduce your sweetie included!
Wild Thang- USA Today Bestselling Author, Tessa Layne
When billionaire Mason Carter discovers his longtime crush Luci Cruz has packed her bags and is leaving town forever, he’s got twenty-four hours to convince her to take one last chance on love. Will a wild night at a notorious speakeasy and a trip down memory lane be enough to win her heart?
All In- USA Today Bestselling Author, Mira Lyn Kelly
There ought to be laws against what happened to that wedding cake, abandoned or not. Sure, it was sexy, good fun of the dirtiest variety but it was the kind of mistake career-minded wedding planner Lanie Malone won’t repeat. At least not until next Saturday when she’s once again face to face with Jason Henley, the bossy, all-trouble hotel owner who won’t settle for just one night.
French Kiss- R. L. Kenderson
Jake Russo has fought for everything he's earned, and he's not about to give up the bar he’s sweated over to spoiled Lacey Scott. She can kiss his ass and go back to where she flew in from. But what happens when she kisses him instead? And what if he does a lot more than kiss her back?
Irish Legend- K.C. Enders
Bartender Finn O'Meara, the self proclaimed Irish Casanova, has met his match. He's planned everything to perfection, and he's got the girl right where he wants her. There's just one little twist - will she come around? Or is he just a legend in his own mind?
Redheaded $lut - USA Today Bestselling Author, Kayti McGee
Bridget Riley is getting married. So what if she's more excited about the wedding than the groom? Being an adult means making boring choices. Until one unexpected decision changes everything.
Wild Thang- USA Today Bestselling Author, Tessa Layne
When billionaire Mason Carter discovers his longtime crush Luci Cruz has packed her bags and is leaving town forever, he’s got twenty-four hours to convince her to take one last chance on love. Will a wild night at a notorious speakeasy and a trip down memory lane be enough to win her heart?
Copyright © 2019 by Tessa Layne
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, stored, or transmitted in any form or in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations included in critical articles and reviews. For information, please contact the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of copious amounts of wine, long walks, and the author’s overactive imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
Mason
L uci blinks. Her large brown eyes going blank as she processes what I said.
She blinks again and tilts her head. “I beg your pardon?” she asks in a husky voice that suddenly I’m dying to hear gasp my name.
“I love your curves.”
“Am I drunk?”
“You’re well on your way, but no.”
This is my one shot, my golden ticket, and I’m not throwing it away. Luci has intrigued me ever since we met two-and-a-half years ago at my best friend Blake’s wedding. In fact, you might say I’ve had a bit of a crush on her. Or a lot of a crush. We’ve met multiple times at community events, and every time it’s the same — we chat, she blushes, I think long and hard about asking her out, fantasize about kissing her and more, and then — like an idiot — I fucking walk away. Why? Because Blake always made it clear that if I knew what was good for me, I’d steer clear of the women in town. His overprotective sense of honor annoys the shit out of me, but he lives there, and I don’t. So I gave Luci a wide berth out of respect for my friend. But we’re not in Kansas anymore. And my God, the woman is a refreshing change of pace from the sycophants and yes-men that plague me day in and day out. Clearly she has no problems speaking her mind. And her curves. Her fucking curves. A man could go to jail for those curves. Or worse.
“Did I hear you right? You love my curves?”
“Mmm-hmm.” I nod, taking in the way the soft pink sweater clings to her tits. Her nipples are straining against the fabric and it’s hot as fuck. My mouth waters to take one, taste it, graze it with my teeth and suck on it until she moans. “Don’t change a thing,” I rumble, my voice dropping an octave.
I can’t fucking believe it’s taken a chance meeting in a VIP lounge in NYC for me to see Luci. And this time, I’m not letting her walk away without taking a chance. Even though my conscience reminds me that dipping my wick in the Prairie pool could have disastrous consequences for the foundation Zack Forte and I set up in the wake of a tornado that pretty much blew Prairie off the map. Then of course, there’s my reputation and credibility. It’s one thing to have a fling in a city of a few million residents. It’s another when the population totals five-thousand — including widows and children. But Luci… oh sweet Luci. My cock swells to the point I’m glad I’m sitting at a bar. With my jacket on my lap. Because, fuck-all. Her pert nipples and luscious hips have me wanting to push her into some dark corner and devour her. Witnesses be damned.
“In that case.” She signals the bartender. “Another round to digest this.”
I gently pull her wrist back to the bar. I don’t want her drunk. Not if there’s an outside chance we could enjoy a little dirty dancing. “Luci,” I rumble. Electricity zings up my arm, and her eyes darken as she stares at me, then our hands.
Two bright pink spots erupt on her cheeks and she drops her eyes. “I-I… I’m a terrible flyer.”
Her confession pulls at me. Maybe because it’s starkly honest and not the booze or her bravado talking, but possibilities unfurl in my head, rich possibilities of how I can keep her occupied and focused on other, more… pleasurable activities while we make our way back to Kansas City.
“Fly with me. My plane leaves in less than an hour.”
“Your plane? As in, your plane?”
I try not to smile, but I can’t help it. Not many people make me smile, and Luci makes me smile. “Perks of being a… what did you call it? A bazillionaire?”
She rolls her eyes with a little giggle. “But my luggage is already checked through to Kansas City.”
“I can have my flight crew take care of it.”
She looks skeptical. “The FAA or the TSA won’t give you a hard time?”
I flick my eyebrows. “Connections.”
Her face morphs into a picture of worry. “And you won’t get arrested?” She shakes her head. “That would be just my luck. I would forever be known as the girl who got Mason Carter arrested on suspicion of terrorism. I’d have to move. At the very least, take an extended vacation.”
“I promise you, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Okay, hot stuff. I’m putting my trust in you.” She pins me with a severe look, but I can tell she’s just playing. “That doesn’t happen very often. Consider yourself lucky.”
I shoot off a text to my crew chief. He’ll sort out Luci’s luggage, and I’ll sort out… Luci. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? Salad? A milkshake?”
She gives me a baleful look. “You don’t cook, do you?”
I open my hands. “Guilty.”
“So do you eat out three meals a day, or do you have a personal chef?”
“Neither.”
She rolls her eyes. “Let me guess, you’re one of those PX-90 guys, and you make protein smoothies and eat paleo take-out from Evolve?”
“Cross Fit.”
“At least Sundry uses local ingredients.”
“Say more.” I just want to hear her talking. There’s something deeply sensual about her voice — the pitch and timbre. It’s like dessert and promise rolled into one.
“You know why I’m not hungry for…” she waves a hand at the bar. “This? It all comes from Sysco. It’s all factory food. Even the steaks. I’m not interested in eating lettuce from a bag, when I can hold out for lettuce that was grown outside the kitchen. Or on a farm twenty miles down the road.”
“I never thought about it.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she chides. “You’re melting your taste buds with protein shakes. Don’t you care about taste? About flavor? About… passion?” she asks eyes bright with fervor.
Awareness surges through me. I want to taste her. Memorize her flavor. See her come undone in the throes of passion. I clear my throat and study her hand on the bar. Long delicate fingers end in rough, uneven nails. A band-aid covers a cut on her thumb. I want to kiss it, tell her everything will be better. “Well, when you put it that way.” I glance up at her, catching her gaze. Holding it. Willing her to not look away, to feel the heat building between us. “How could I have missed this before?”
She sucks in a quick breath, mouth falling open. “You’re not talking about food. Are you?” Her voice pitches higher, breathier. It fucking sings to my cock, and my cock answers with a jerk.
I shake my head. “No.”
Her eyes go round, and deepen to almost black. “I think I need another shot.”
I take her hand, and bring those sweet fingers to my mouth. “No,” I say making very sure she sees how much I want her. “All bets are off if you get drunk.”
She flashes me a mischievous smile. “Did we have a bet?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And that is?” Her words catch in the back of her throat.
“Making you come six times before we land in Kansas City.”
She drops her head, throat undulating with her rich, full, musical laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Uh-uh.” I shake my head, grinning back at her.
“No one’s ever made me come six times. It’s a victory if I come at all.” Her cheeks turn the most beautiful shade of dusty pink.
“You haven’t been properly loved up, then.”
“And you’re suggesting… you are?” Her eyes are bright, avid. Hopeful.
I drop a kiss onto her bandaged thumb.
“We barely know each other,” she says on a whisper.
My mouth hovers over her first knuckle. I breathe in a hint of garlic. “I want to get to know you, Luci.” I’m desperate for a taste of her. “Very much.”
Her breathing becomes uneven. She licks her lips. But she hasn’t said yes.
I turn over her palm and bring it to my mouth. I taste her, tongue tracing a circle at the center, sucking just enough that she gasps. Her pulse is racing wildly at the base of her throat, her eyes are dark orbs. “I could do that to your whole body if you like. Taste every inch of you,” I offer in a low voice so only she can hear.<
br />
“I-I bet you say this to all the girls you meet in airports.” She rushes through the words, like it’s a last-ditch, half-hearted barrier on her part.
I shake my head. “Only you.”
“When was the last time you had sex?”
Her question catches me off-guard. But I don’t mind. I don’t usually have to work for female attention, the fact that she needs convincing… impresses me. And makes me want her more, if I’m totally honest. “Ten months, give or take a few weeks,” I say, watching her for signs of surprise.
Her eyebrows rocket and she eyes me with undisguised skepticism. “For real?”
Sad, but true. I nod.
Her eyebrows knit together. “But you’re… you. Mason Carter, hot bazillionaire. Prairie’s hero.”
“I’m glad you think I’m hot,” I say wryly.
“You’re very hot, and you know it,” she points out.
I can’t deny it.
“So why?” Her eyes narrow.
“How long has it been for you, Luci?” I want to see how she reacts when I turn the tables. “How long has it been since you had an orgasm so intense you screamed?”
She snorts. “Never.” But her eyes light. I can tell she’s thinking about an orgasm that intense. But she won’t let her question go unanswered. “But why so long?”
“Tired of one-dimensional diamond ring hunters, and too busy amassing my fortune. You?”
A look of resignation crosses her face. “I’m very goal-oriented. And… most men find that too intimidating.”
“Most men are stupid fucks.”
That brings a smile to her wide, luscious mouth. “You got that right.” She takes a breath. “So why aren’t you?”