Bad Romeo Christmas: A Starcrossed Anthology

by Leisa Rayven

  "Okay." The way she's stroking my happy trail is making it difficult for me to concentrate, but whatever.

  "Do you remember when we were rehearsing Shrew, and the first episode of our horrible Angeliam reality show went to air?"

  "Yeah. Back when I lusted after you from afar, because I thought you and Quinn were engaged."

  "Well, that night Liam's fangirls came out in droves on social media to abuse me. I was mostly used to being called an ugly whore who should go kill herself, but still. It was particularly vicious while it was being aired. I was here by myself, feeling pretty down, when out of the blue, you called me. You told me to get off the internet and stop reading the ramblings of the intellectually deranged, and then you offered to bring me the ice cream flavor of my choice to cheer me up."

  I stroke her arm and smile. "I remember. You turned down the ice cream, but we ended up talking on the phone for hours."

  "We did. You were a hero to me that night. And it doesn't matter if you look like a hot geek or a total beefcake, you'll always be my hero. Have no doubt about that."

  She pushes up and kisses me, and it's so full of gratitude and adoration, I kick myself for ever doubting her devotion to me. Every man should be as lucky as I am.

  She pulls back and gazes into my eyes. "I love you, Joshua Eli Kane. Happy New Year."

  I smile and stroke her cheek. "Every year is happy as long as I'm with you, Angela Constance Bell." I kiss her slowly and deeply, and it's so steamy that when we pull apart, my glasses have fogged up.

  "Now," I say, as I place my glasses on the nightstand. "How about you go put your Uhura costume back on, and I'll dress up as Kirk so I can explore your final frontier."

  She smiles and cringes at the same time. "You better not be talking about anal, young man."

  I raise a brow. "It says a lot about you that your mind went straight there. Filthy woman."

  "Oh, so you weren't thinking about butt stuff?"

  "No, but since you keep bringing it up, maybe I should run out and buy some lube."

  She giggles as I climb on top of her and push between her legs, and I'm so damn happy I feel high.

  I may have spent most of tonight dressed as one, but superheroes be damned. This magnificent, beautiful, incredible woman loves me totally and unconditionally, and even without special powers, that's enough to make me feel like I could fly.

  "Any new year's resolutions you want to share?" I ask as I kiss a spot behind her ear that makes her squirm.

  "Yes. Spend less time away from you."

  "Good choice."

  She slides her fingers into my hair and grips my head as I suck on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Her squirming increases. "What about ... oh, God ... your resolutions?"

  I cup her breasts and tease her nipples with my tongue. "I have three items on my list. Eat healthy, get in shape, and spend way more time making my woman scream my name."

  I kiss a path from her clavicle down to her stomach, and she digs her fingers into my shoulders as I nibble her hips.

  "Is that right?" she asks, her voice tight and breathy.

  "Uh huh. And considering I've already nailed the first two, I guess I should get started on the third.

  She gasps in anticipation when I push her legs apart and grip her hips, and when I put my mouth on her and whisper sweet nothings to her clitoris, she does indeed scream my name.

  Happy New Year to me.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  As is the case with any book, this one wouldn't have been possible without some amazing friends and supporters.

  Firstly, to my amazing agent Christina Hogrebe (and the whole gang from the Jane Rotrosen Agency,) - thank you so much for your unwavering support and unrelenting wisdom. You always know what to say and do to get the best out of me.

  To my darling husband Jason for being my personal cheerleader and wonderfully insightful pre-reader. I'll never get tired of you telling me how proud you are whenever I finish a book. And don't even get me started on your reactions while you're reading. You’re hilarious.

  To my long-time friend and grammatical mentor/editor, Caryn Stevens - how cool is it that we're together again, Catty-Wan? (<-- Note the appropriately placed question mark. Hah!) Thank you for whipping my writing into shape, and for doing it in record time on this project. You saved my head from exploding from the pressure of my deadlines.

  To my beautiful best friend whose relentless enthusiasm and love for my characters always warms the cockles of my cold, dead heart - I love you so much, Andrea. You are like a permanent ray of sunshine in my life.

  To the wonderful girls who support me, kick my ass, and keep the wheels of Team Rayven oiled and rolling - Chloe, Cecile, and Chanpreet - you girls rock my world. Thank you so much for your time and energy. You're all stars.

  Thanks to the amazing Nina Bocci for her epic pimpage, as well as all the incredible bloggers and readers who help thrust my words into people's eyeballs. Without you, I'd be throwing a whole bunch of books into the void where they'd stagnate, unread and unloved.

  To all the Pams and Chignons - thank you so much for your support and wisdom. If it weren't for you, I'd spend my days banging my head against the keyboard muttering, "I don't get it. I don't understand," over and over again. Thanks also to Nina Levine for holding my hand while I navigated the great unknown.

  To Regina Wamba for her gorgeous cover - girl, you're the bomb. And the diggity. All the diggity.

  And finally, an enormous thanks to you, my wonderful, passionate readers. I adore every single one of you, whether you're one of the bodacious Babes from Romeo's Dressing Room, or just a quiet, consistent supporter. You guys are the reason I write. In particular, you're the reason this book came about. You all touched me so much with your heartfelt pleas for more from our Starcrossed crew, I couldn't help but revisit these crazy couples, and I'm so glad I did. Thank you for giving me an excuse to climb back into their world for a little while. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

  Don't forget, if you ever want to reach out and say 'hi', I'm all over social media, and you can subscribe to my newsletter with this link:

  http://eepurl.com/bRdvrH

  Alternatively, you can join my private reader group on Facebook (simply search for Romeo's Dressing Room,) or contact me through my website:

  WWW.LEISARAYVEN.COM

  Once again, thank you all for your support and generosity, and I wish you all love, light, and lots of laughter in the year ahead.

  Love and hugs,

  Leisa x

  Want more Leisa Rayven? You got it!

  Coming Soon!

  Mister Romance

  Max Riley is the man of your dreams. At least, he will be, for a price.

  As his alter-ego Mr. Romance, Max is an escort-with-a-difference. No sex, just a swoon-worthy dates to die for, and the cream of New York's socialites can't get enough. His specialty is bringing women's greatest romantic fantasies to life, whatever they might be. Want a dominating billionaire, a bad boy with a heart of gold, a hot geek, sexy biker, or best friend who's secretly loved you from afar? Max can make it all happen, and even though women fall in love with him on a daily basis, he's careful to keep his real identity a secret.

  Enter investigative journalist and professional cynic, Eden Tate. Having caught wind of the urban legend of Mr. Romance, Eden is like a dog with a bone, determined to publish a scathing expose on Max and his ability to swindle lonely society women out of their money.

  Desperate to protect his anonymity, Max challenges Eden to give him three dates. If she doesn't fall totally in love with him, she can run her story with his blessing. However, if she succumbs to his charms, the story dies.

  Eden is confident she can resist Max's tacky, make-believe personas, but when a traumatic night leads them back to his apartment and she gets to know the man beneath the facade, her story takes on a whole other twist; one in which her heart will have the final say as to whether she chooses a career-making tell-all, or the fas
cinating man with the mysterious past.

  Read an Excerpt

  The first time I hear the term ‘Mr. Romance’, I’m convinced my sweet-but-naive baby sister has been duped into believing yet another urban legend.

  I stop filling the coffee maker and turn to Asha, who’s sitting at the breakfast bar in our cozy apartment, looking way too put together for six a.m. on a Monday morning.

  “You’re telling me that you can hire a man to make your wildest romantic fantasies come to life, Ash? Come on. There’s no way that’s a thing.”

  “It’s true!” she insists. “Joanna was dishing the dirt in the break room at work. She overheard a whole bunch of women talking about him at some thousand-dollar-a-ticket charity event on the weekend.”

  “What the hell was Joanna the secretary doing at that kind of event?”

  “Her cousin is related to some obscure Latvian royalty or something. The crown prince’s limo broke down on the way in from the airport, so Joanna was invited at the last minute to take his ticket.”

  I give my sister a deadpan look. “Latvian royalty. Of course. Makes perfect sense.”

  My sister works at a publishing house, and even though I haven’t met all of her co-workers, the ones I have met are definitely on the strange side of quirky.

  “Isn’t Joanna the compulsive liar?” I ask.

  “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know stuff. She overheard a handful of women talking about this God-like uber-stud. One of them claimed one date with him cured her depression. Another said he saved her marriage, because until he unlocked her libido, she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed sex. This whole gaggle of women thinks he’s their romantic savior. Jill-off Jesus, or whatever.”

  I shake my head and watch as coffee dribbles through the filter. Always the more imaginative out of the two of us, Asha has inherited all of my mother’s blind optimism, but zero common sense.

  “So what you’re telling me,” I say as I pour two cups of fresh Joe. “Is that this mythical man-beast about whom Pants-On-Fire-Joanna was raving, is some kind of … what? Superhero gigolo?”

  “He’s an escort,” Asha clarifies.

  “Isn’t that just a dressed up label for man-whore?”

  “No. He doesn’t have sex with his clients.”

  “You just told me he did.”

  “No, I said he makes their romantic fantasies come to life.”

  “And that doesn’t include sex?”

  “No.”

  I screw up my face. “Doesn’t sound very romantic to me. A guy who doesn’t want to sleep with me? I can get that for free.”

  COMING IN APRIL, 2017!

  For more information and to keep with all the latest Leisa Rayven news, go to WWW.LEISARAYVEN.COM