by Sybil Bartel
“Just take it easy and don’t scare the shit out of her.”
Was he fucking serious? “She should fuck a woman if she wants gentle.” I wasn’t going to fuck missionary, not even for five grand.
“Suck it up.”
I chuckled without an ounce of humor. “Maybe I will.”
“I’m texting you the details now. Stick to the script and don’t be late. Let me know if you have any issues.”
“I don’t have issues.”
He didn’t call me on my bullshit. “Catch you tomorrow.”
“Hey.” I stopped him before he hung up. “What’s the real deal? You haven’t taken a night off in years.”
“Business dinner.”
“You branching out?” I’d be a fucking liar if I said I didn’t think about getting out. I didn’t need the money.
“Looking into a charity,” he admitted.
I laughed. “What kind of charity does a hustler front? The boyfriend experience for needy chicks?”
“Fuck you. It’s for veterans.”
The muscles in my back tensed and my scars felt tight. “Since when do you give a shit about veterans?”
“I’m talking to you, asshole, aren’t I?”
I snorted. “Fair enough. What chick got you involved in this?” There was no way he’d think of this shit on his own. He was all about making money. It drove him like the need to control drove me.
“I didn’t say a woman was involved,” he hedged.
“What restaurant?” I asked casually.
“Pietra’s.”
I laughed, hard. “You fucking dog, you’re going on a date. Does she know how you pay the bills?” No chick would put up with that.
“Just take care of my clients tonight,” he bit out.
“I do that and they won’t want to come back to you,” I taunted.
“Give it your best shot. I’ll still collect my twenty percent.”
“No way, one-time deal only. After that, I keep my earnings. Unlike you, I don’t do charity. Later.” I hung up and pulled into the underground parking of my condo as three texts came in from Vega. Each one was a name and number, but only one of the texts had two extra words. I stared at my cell.
Shy client.
What the fuck was I supposed to do with a shy client?
I pushed my car door open and bypassed the elevator for the stairs. Seventeen flights later, I’d graduated into obsessing about her. It wasn’t that I couldn’t think what the hell I’d do with her, it was that I could. A hundred fucking fantasies were working their way under my skin. I didn’t make it five feet into my condo before I’d tapped the number in the text to call it.
I walked to my balcony and stared at the ocean as it started to ring.
To find out what happens next, pick up your copy of ROUGH now!
There are so many moving parts and pieces to writing a book that there is no way I could do this alone. The first thing you see when you look at book is the cover and I always have an idea in my head before I even write the book. Somehow, someway, Clarise at CT Cover Creations is always able to make those visions a reality. She is a cover artist ninja! Thank you, Clarise!
Every book needs editors and great editors make all the difference! I am so lucky to have Virginia and Olivia from Hot Tree Edits in my corner, making my words pretty and my grammar better. And they still put up with me even though I have no idea what the difference is between sank and sunk, LOL! Thank you, Virginia and Olivia!
Formatting. The word alone used to make me twitch but Stacy at Champagne Formats is so amazing, she creates magic! Thank you, Stacy!
THRUST had two special people that helped make this book a reality. My amazing friend and fellow author Elizabeth Briggs listened to and encouraged me to go for it with this book. She put up with my countless questions and hesitations and I am so grateful for her wisdom and friendship because she is awesome! And Kristen, beta reader extraordinaire, took my words, last-minute and a week late and dropped everything to read this story for me. Her advice smoothed out the rough edges and I am so thankful for her help. Thank you, Kristen! One day, we’re going to eat that pizza together!
And to my readers… I have no words except you all humble me with your support. I am so grateful and I could not do this without you! Thank you for making my dreams come true and for reading all my words. XOXO
Sybil Bartel grew up in northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. Trading one coast for another, she now resides in Southern Florida. When Sybil isn’t writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her handsomely tattooed husband, her brilliantly practical son and a mischievous miniature boxer…
But Seriously?
Here are ten things you probably really want to know about Sybil.
She grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a sailor. She loves men in uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong scares her. Her favorite word has four letters. She has a thing for muscle cars. But never rely on her for driving directions, ever. And she has a new book boyfriend every week.
To find out more about Sybil Bartel or her books, please visit her at:
Website: www.sybilbartel.com
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