by Tia Lewis
The Journalist
A Sexy Contemporary Romance
Tia Lewis
Salted Pen Publications
Contents
Mailing List
Books by Tia Lewis
About This Book
1. Dylan
2. Alexa
3. Dylan
4. Alexa
5. Dylan
6. Alexa
7. Dylan
8. Dylan
9. Alexa
10. Dylan
11. Alexa
12. Dylan
13. Alexa
14. Dylan
15. Alexa
16. Dylan
17. Alexa
18. Dylan
19. Alexa
20. Dylan
21. Alexa
22. Dylan
23. Alexa
24. Dylan
25. Alexa
26. Epilogue
27. Dylan
28. Alexa
29. Dylan
Thank You
Mailing List
Books by Tia Lewis
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FULL BOOK CATALOG BY TIA LEWIS
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 by Tia Lewis. All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
First Published in January 2017.
First Edition.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please contact: [email protected]. www.AuthorTiaLewis.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of the book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic, or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Published by Salted Pen Publications, Minnesota.
The Journalist: A Sexy Contemporary Romance
Edited by: Charity C.
Beta Readers: Jackie, Vickie & Summer
Cover Designed by: Mayhem Cover Creations
Books by Tia Lewis
Redemption: A Bad Boy MMA Fighter Romance
Draw Play: A Sports Romance
Stadium of Lights: A Second Chance Romance
Draft Day: A BWWM Sports Romance
Threat: A Blood Riders MC (Book 1)
Reveal: A Blood Riders MC (Book 2)
Creed: A Blood Riders MC (Book 3)
The Hitman’s Possession: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Book 1)
The Hitman’s Property: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Book 2)
The Hitman’s Duology Series Bundle
Dirty Hacker: An Alpha Billionaire Romance
Dirty Money: A Dark Mafia Romance
Misled: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance
Zarak: Scifi Alien Invasion Romance (The Mating Games Book 1)
About This Book
Dylan has hit rock bottom. Despite being a womanizer, he is lonely. He's broke and is struggling to revive his once flourishing journalism career. Then he meets Alexa, and Dylan realizes she could be the answer to his dilemma.
As a former call girl, Alexa has had it tough. She wants to turn her life around, working tirelessly to get her degree in Business Management at Stanford. When Dylan proposes that she lets him write a piece about her experiences, she is hesitant to expose herself. Letting him into her life isn't a walk in the park, but his earnestness and wit get through her defenses.
The more time they spend together, the harder it is to deny the attraction simmering between them, but is it enough for Alexa to open her heart?
Author’s Note:
The Journalist is a sexy romance novel that contains explicit sexual content, language, and intended for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised.
1
Dylan
I sat in a crowded bar, nursing my bottle of Star Radler. Normally, I wasn't a huge fan of Radler, but tonight I needed to avoid my usual cocktail or anything stronger. Even though I felt like getting drunk shitless, that was the last thing I needed right now. It was about fucking time I sat down and thought deeply about my life—how it was going and where it was headed—or not headed.
A loud shout from behind me made me turn sharply toward where the noise came from. I shook my head in a mixture of confusion and some anger when I saw that it was just another brewing bar fight. Nothing more. At 9:45 pm the bar was bursting with a mix of people. The atmosphere here was filled with a mixture of sweat, cigarette smoke, the smell of people; and almost everyone was bopping their heads to Kanye West's 'No more parties in LA' spilling out of the speakers. However, I was not one of the 'most.'
I turned my head back to my drink. What was I expecting, sitting in a bar? The irony of it all! Hell, my life was a fucking irony. I honestly don't know anyone else who would decide to think and reflect on his life in a bar. A bar! I repeated in my head. I envisioned so much more for my life. By now, I wanted to be a Pulitzer winner or at least nominated. That was not too big of a dream for a journalist with kind of talent.
At 27, I wasn't even close to winning a freebie at a carnival, much less a journalism award. When I moved to Los Angeles immediately after college packed with big dreams and hopes, my outlook on life was different. I was 23, fresh out of Arizona State University and damned sure of the substance I had; I knew exactly how my life would play out.
The plan was simple; move to LA, leverage on the internship I had gotten straight out of college and wow every single person I could. I had envisioned taking the world by storm with my amazing writing skills and then be a Pulitzer winner by 25.
Twenty-five was two years ago. Two years after my 'golden age' and I was not only without an award, I was broke, broken and without as many aspirations. Since then, I've moved from the LA office to the San Francisco office, which had a lot less slot space. To top it off, I was single to stupor. The fact that I liked sex a little more than most regular guys didn't help matters. The sheer joy of knowing that whatever conversation I was having with an attractive female would lead nowhere else but the bed.
The people around the bar were sort of like my inspiration. In them, I could see where I didn't want to be and where exactly I did. For instance, the last thing I wanted to be right now was this guy some distance from me. I was seated here when he came in with his girl, all smiling and happy. Now, less than three hours after they came in, she's been 'stolen' by what appears to be a much richer fellow. I immediately tuned out the argumen
t that I was sure would start soon.
As I scanned the room, I set eyes on the most exquisite thing I'd seen tonight.
My eyes followed a pair of beautiful, bare long legs all the way to the sheer black fabric that covered the owner's body. I couldn't see exactly what color they were because of the dim bar lights, but I loved those legs already. Pictures of how those gorgeous legs would look wrapped around my hips filled my head. At that moment, I knew who I wanted to be in tonight. I felt the blood rush to my head and loins.
I allowed my eyes to wander over her legs for a bit before I traced my way all the way up her body. Her sheer black little dress barely covered her butt cheeks. I couldn't complain that the dress was showing too much. Besides the fact that it was not in my place to say so, I absolutely loved the view. My eyes moved to the voluptuous curve of her breasts, skimmed over them a bit and continued upward. I wanted to see the face of all of this goodness before I came back to feast on the breasts. I was, after all, a breast man.
My eyes met hers in the most embarrassing twist of events. She had apparently been staring at me while I was drooling over her. I grew hot with embarrassment. Apparently, she found this whole thing amusing as she sent a smirk my way—the most seductive and beautiful thing I had seen all evening. I turned away from her quickly. This was exactly the kind of distraction I didn't need tonight. I had too much to think about. Despite everything I felt in my loins, I knew it was a completely terrible idea to bed this young lady, whose lips reminded me of the deep red of cherries. It was amazing how much better my sight got in this dim light when I saw something I liked.
"Well, hello there." I heard a voice behind me.
I knew it was her before I turned around. The sweet smell of what I think was candied orange blossom or was it apricot. The fragrance wafted up my nose, and all I could think of was how I'd love to eat her up. God, she smelled fucking edible! There was something else with the way she smelled—there was a spiciness to her. Why in the world did I have to meet here now? Why today of all days? My ill luck was at it again.
"Cat got your tongue?" She said and settled into the empty seat beside me.
"Well, hey there," I replied.
"I thought for a second there you wouldn't be able to speak. I guess it's just the effect I have on people."
"Perhaps. But then again, I'm not known to be short on words."
"What's a hottie like you doing all alone at the bar?"
I looked at her and said nothing at first. I considered my words carefully. I could either play this so that I scored this one tonight or I just let her go. My better senses told me to let her go. I had more important things to do tonight.
"Let's just say I haven't found the right company tonight," I said instead of the gentle rejection I should have let out.
"You could for the right price." She said to me in the tone I know too well, and at that moment, I realized exactly what this was—what she was. She wasn't looking to score a lonely dude at the bar. She was looking to score a client. She was a prostitute. Nothing more. My better senses took over. What I needed was a good enough story to bring me back to the front pages; not a prostitute and expensive sex. Because I knew that this one would not come cheap.
"Look, I don't think I am up for this tonight. You could still get a client if you look well enough."
"To think I was actually going to put this one on the house. I don't charge all the time." She said and got off the stool. As she turned around without looking, she bumped into some guy lurking behind us. She eyed him without a word and stalked out of the bar.
Something glinting under the light drew my attention. I bent over the spot she was standing and picked it up. My mouth fell open as my eyes scanned what I had in my hands. It was an ID card, but this possibility was nothing like I could have ever thought of—nothing I could ever imagine. This had to be payback for something good I had done in the past. Providence had finally smiled down on me. The gods had finally sent me a story to save my career. I jumped off my stool and ran after her. I didn't see her at first, and my heart nearly stopped beating. Then I saw her. Again, fate was working in my favor. The cab she hailed didn't even slow down, much less stop.
"Wait!" I called to her, her card safely hidden in my pocket. I'd get around to giving it to her somehow. I didn't know how yet, but I could come up with something.
She couldn't know. At least not then.
"What?"
"I think I need that company you were offering earlier."
"Free time is over. I'm back to work now."
Yet again, against my better judgment, I replied. "Fine. How much?"
She looked at me like she was trying to decide what punishment to meter out to me. "300."
"What?!" I exclaimed. That was way too much, and I couldn't afford that in my present state.
"Thought so. You should have taken the free offer." She retorted and started to sashay away.
My need for a good story made me cringe inside. "Fine! Fine!! Let's go."
She smirked again. I think she preferred this to smiling or maybe it was just because of the company she was in. "What made you change your mind?"
I looked at her and smiled. "Because, you my dear, are the best thing to come my way all week."
She looked at me, puzzled. I smiled again, but I didn't bother with an explanation.
How would I start to explain to her right here, by the side of the road, that the only reason I reconsidered was because she was going to be my next story? How do I explain that I only changed my mind because what else could resuscitate the dead career of a journalist than a piece on the life of a prostitute that so happens to go to Stanford?
2
Alexa
This was weird. Really weird. He was smiling at me like he just won a million dollars or something. I really don't understand why he was staring at me, grinning from ear to ear like he just won a jackpot, when all that happened was that I'd overbilled him for a run in the sack. In my wildest explanation, I never imagined he would react like that. What I pictured was him yelling bloody murder and then running off to find another woman to fulfill his needs. I realized at that moment I wrong I was.
I was still staring at this hottie as he agreed to pay an outrageous $300 to have sex with me. He seemed hell bent on having a go, and I was not ready to stop him. When I told him to pay that amount, I did it to scare him away, but apparently, he didn't scare so easily. A part of me was glad he accepted to pay, but then again, another part of me was curious as to why he agreed without much of a fuss. Why did he agree to it?
Could it be that he had an ulterior motive? I did a quick scan of him to assess his potential for being a troublemaker. He didn't seem like one. In fact, he seemed like someone who wouldn't hurt a fly. He was handsome. Deadly handsome with an edge to him. I couldn't place his age. His face made him look somewhat young. Only the stubble gathered around his jaw made me know he wasn't quite as young as his face was suggesting. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a sweater that stretched tightly over his well-built biceps. He apparently spent a lot of time at the gym.
Beyond the looks, it seemed like he was in a bit of a pickle earlier. The way he was looking around the bar at first, he seemed a little lost. Like he had been going through such a hard time, and his solution was to drown himself in the bottle. I had approached him and then here we were.
"Are we going to spend all night here?" he asked, and I smiled. He didn't seem anything like the person I walked up to earlier. This one was not shy or reserved. I had just caught him by surprise earlier.
"No," I replied. "I'm just trying to decide if I really want to go into a hotel room with a creepy guy like you."
"Creepy?" he repeated, the surprise on his face very apparent. "I don't think I understand you. You came on to me just minutes ago. Now I'm the creepy guy you're wondering about?"
"That was before you said that thing about the best thing to come your way all week. You don't say that to someone like me. It is q
uite a creepy thing to say to a hooker."
He sighed in what I assumed was exasperation. "Look, I shouldn't be explaining myself to you, but I have had a crazy ass week. What I need right now is the company to forget what a shitty week this has been. Heck! I'm not even complaining about the hike in your price. All I want is a good time. And the night is already almost over. So shall we?"
I stared at him for a fraction of a minute. He did look quite stressed now that I looked closely. He didn't realize that he was doing me as much of a favor as I was doing him; to set our moods straight for what was to come after we left each other.
"Fine," I said eventually. "There's a hotel just around the corner."
I saw a look I couldn't place flash across his face when I talked about the hotel. It crossed my mind that he probably couldn't afford the hotel room cost as well as my fee and that was why he had that look. Again, I was about to change my mind, but I ignored the voice in my head. He knew what he had coming when he agreed to my price. Besides, even if he eventually couldn't pay the whole thing, it really wouldn't matter. This was beyond just the money. I had my reasons.
"Not to worry. They charge a fair enough price."
"What makes you think I'm bothered about the price?" he retorted.
"Oh, you obviously are. But that doesn't matter," I replied smugly. "Shall we?"
I didn't bother to look behind me as I walked away from him toward the hotel. The cold November wind blew at my face, sending a chill down my spine. It was cold out there tonight, and for the first time, I deeply regretted my choice of outfit. It seemed like a pretty good idea when I left the house earlier.
Somewhere behind us, a couple of kids' laughter reached me. Their laughter was deep, rich and sounded genuine. What I'd give to be able to actually laugh like that. Laugh from deep within my heart. That had been a while. I pushed the thought out of my mind as quickly as it came into it. As I turned left in the direction of the hotel, I saw him catch up to me.