Torrid Love: Friends to Lovers Romance (Bad Boy Studs Book 1)

by Scarlett Avery

  She was just a girl when she left LA, now she’s a drop dead gorgeous sexbomb strolling back into town, threatening to bring poor Loki down to his knee. And she’s armed with a few secrets…

  Get it now > Torrid Passion

  My Own Experience

  Until a trip to St. Lucia, I really didn’t know what it meant to be sexually harassed or violated. I’m fairly tall. At 5’9, I always felt I could stand on my own. Add many years of serious weight training sessions, training four times a week at a high performance gym since January 2018 where I do competitive indoor cycling three times a week—I’m usually at the gym for two hours at a time—and a couple of years of real boxing (not boxercise) with former professional boxers—men who’ve knocked out opponents many times and who believed in training their handful of female students on how to get hit in the head and stomach. Basically, I always felt I could defend myself.

  As many of you know, living in the Great North is challenging for someone who dislikes winter. Going to paradise, aka a Caribbean island holiday, is the highlight of my year because truth be told, it can never be too hot in my book.

  My paradise holiday in St. Lucia in late April 2018 was absolutely spectacular. The first few days were amazing. It was super hot, sunny and beautiful. In other words, the exclusive resort was a dream. The first four days were magical. All that changed on the fourth night.

  I was leaving the piano bar with three other guests––all Brits––and going back to my room when a group of four male resort employees wearing their uniform approached us. One of the guys started singing, and seeing as I walked on by, he got my attention by letting me know he was singing for me.

  Since I was on holiday and I didn’t want to be rude, I stopped. The other girl and the couple kept walking. The hotel employee approached me and his colleagues scattered. He started making small talk. He asked for my name. He gave me his. He also wanted to know when I was leaving. I answered his questions. After a few minutes of small talk, I informed him I was going up to my room.

  That’s when the whole conversation took a different––and very unpleasant––turn.

  He took a step forward. I took one back. He then asked me if he could come up with me. I was shocked. I said no. I was going up to my room alone. He insisted. I said no, I wasn’t interested. As I was starting to get incensed by the back-and-forth, I decided it was time for me to walk away. He grabbed me, slammed my body against his and proceeded to inform me that before the end of my holiday, we would get together. I twisted my way out of his embrace and ran. I didn’t even bother taking the elevator, because I was afraid he’d be able to see which floor I got off. I sprinted up the four flights of stairs.

  I was frightened and I didn’t know what to do. The only thought that came to mind was I’d have to endure his unwanted attention for the rest of my holiday. I know, it’s absolutely crazy, but that is actually the first thought that came to mind.

  After taking a shower, I went to bed. I had a horrible night’s sleep. The reason I didn’t go to the concierge’s desk and report the incident after it happened was because I was overwhelmed and confused. I was trying to process it all because it didn’t make any sense. I didn’t even know the guy until he approached me.

  I remember seeing the employee in question working at the bar, but I’d never spoken to him. I never even said hi. I never made eye contact. So I was trying to understand how he even thought I was interested. The only reason he stood out was because he was the only employee who was wearing prescription glasses. Everyone else seemed to have 20/20 vision.

  The next morning I woke up angry. I was livid. Then I started panicking at the idea he might actually take things further and force himself on me. This guy frightened me and he refused to take no for an answer. Who says he won’t make true to his promise? I’d be putting myself in danger if I didn’t report it. After taking a shower, I marched to the concierge’s desk and demanded to speak to whoever was in charge. I recounted my story to an assistant manager. Her face dropped when I reenacted how the employee touched me. She simply said, “That’s sexual harassment.”

  I agreed.

  She asked me if I could share my story with the resort manager, as unpleasant as it was. I told her I would. The manager couldn’t believe my story. The shock on his face was evident. So was the confusion. He was as incensed as I was that an employee would step outside of their boundaries in such a grotesque way. The resort manager asked me if we could go to the spot where the incident happened because there were cameras all over the place—unfortunately there were none where this happened. I wondered if the employee knew that. The resort manager asked me to reenact everything again. I did. He took the name of the employee and assured me he would take action.

  The resort acted quickly.

  They removed the employee from the premises and assured me he wouldn’t be back until the end of my holiday. I shared my story with a few other women at the resort and that’s when I found out I wasn’t the only one who had been targeted by this guy. Apparently, he preyed on single travelers and those who were traveling with an ‘older’ significant other (May-December relationships). Yeah, I know. In the end, the hotel terminated his employment.

  It was a frightening experience because I realized this man had decided in his head something was going to happen between us, regardless of how many times I blatantly told him I wasn’t interested. My wishes and desires weren’t important to him.

  Of course, my story isn’t nearly as dramatic or traumatic as Dom’s or the many women who have been raped, violated and brutalized, but for the first time in my life, I was able to understand the sense of powerlessness that courses through you when you’re dealing with a predator.

  My heart goes out to anyone who’s been in Dom’s shoes.

  Scarlett’s Book Banter!

  Dear Sexy Reader,

  Thanks so much for coming along on this emotional ride.

  Out of the countless books available, I’m grateful you selected mine and read it all the way to the ‘Scarlett’s Book Banter’ page.

  You ROCK!

  I’m honored beyond words.

  The intensity of Rod and Dom’s romance took me by surprise.

  I was a bit nervous to push things into a slightly darker storyline, but I’m happy I did. It was hard at times and I’ll be honest, my heart was beating so fast when I wrote the chapters around Dom’s tragic secret, but something stronger inside compelled me not to skim the subject, but deep dive… so I went for it.

  And I ugly cried.

  Frankly, I was a mess all over my laptop even when I edited those chapters.

  But again, I had to go there.

  I hope you loved Rod and Dom’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Rod and Dom’s romance kicks off an incredible line up of page-tuners. Each romance is unique and filled with passion. You’ll discover a lot of new loveable characters. If you’ve read my older books, you’ll also reunite with characters you love.

  Who’s the next bad boy on the list?

  Lochlan Berkshire! (Psst… make sure to read the sneak peek at the end of the book)

  Loki is really good at giving Rod sound relationship advice, but is he as good at taking his own words of wisdom?

  It’s easy to be stoic when you’re not the one so consumed by a woman, you can barely think straight.

  Bad boy Loki comes across as the one who has all the answers… that’s until he bumps into her––the woman he’s been obsessed with for three long years… his baby sister’s best friend.

  She was just a girl when she left LA. Now she’s a drop dead gorgeous sexbomb strolling back into town, threatening to bring poor Loki down to his knee. And she’s armed with a few secrets…

  Trust me, Loki is your next book boyfriend.

  Get it now > Torrid Passion

  P.S.: Keep scrolling to read the sneak peek for Loki’s story!

  That’s it for me.

  I’m diving right back into the nex
t book.

  Much love,

  Scarlett Avery

  P.S. When a reader writes a review, an author-angel gets their wings.

  P.P.S. I keep writing because of your hunger for my stories. Thank you for your fervor, love, and loyalty. I’m humbled and incredibly grateful. Without you, there’s very little reason to keep coming up with new stories.

  P.P.P.S. For access to an EXCLUSIVE Secret Chapter, go to the next page!

  ***************************

  Get The Secret Chapter and

  Storyboard for Torrid Love!

  Thank you for purchasing this romance!

  I have an EXCLUSIVE Secret Chapter and a cool Storyboard to share with you!

  For the Secret Chapter, we travel ten years into the past to when Rod and Dom meet.

  Trust me, you’re going to love the extra tidbits.

  When you sign up on my list, you’ll receive an email with further instructions!

  Sign-up TODAY!

  www.RomanceBooksRock.com

  ***If you’ve already signed-up to my list from previous books, you can visit the same page to download the Secret Chapters and/or Storyboard for this romance ***

  *************************

  Sneak Peak of Torrid Passion

  CHAPTER 1

  Lochlan

  You know you’re taking adulting way too seriously when you’re standing behind a long line of caffeine-deprived souls at seven o’clock in the morning at But First, Coffee. Instead of waiting it out like everyone else, you decide to knock-off as many emails and text messages as possible before you head to the office for another twelve-hour marathon day.

  I’ve turned into a freaking workaholic.

  I’m exactly who I promised myself I’d never become when I made the transition from roadie to music video exec. I’m even wearing a damn suit. Bespoke to boot. That’s all I wear these days.

  “You’ve been so busy on that phone, you haven’t even noticed me,” a voice says in front of me.

  I pull my eyes up to meet her eager ones. “I’m sorry?”

  “I said, you haven’t even noticed me.” This time she almost seems shy about it. Almost.

  How could I have missed her? Damn adulting.

  “You must be a big mover and shaker,” she adds pointing at my phone.

  “Do we know each other?” I ask.

  “Not yet,” she allows for a pregnant pause then arches a meticulously shaped eyebrow, “but I’m hoping that might change.”

  Clearly, she drinks coffee for the taste because she doesn’t need it to jolt her day. This woman is already lit up.

  “I see,” I nod. “You work in Culver City?”

  Judging from her barely-there dress, plunging V neck, face covered with an inch-thick of makeup, coiffed blonde hair and super high open toe heels, I can’t help but think she doesn’t belong in the area. Culver City is where a lot of movies and TV shows are produced. The women I know who work on a set tend to select a more practical and subdued wardrobe. Same goes for the serious models and actresses I see around here.

  “No. I’m here for Lagree.”

  “Lagree?”

  “It’s the best thing ever,” she says before taking a step back. I take one forward. One step closer to coffee. “You’ve never heard of Lagree?”

  “Have I been missing out?”

  “Big time! Think Pilates, but a million times better. Lagree changed my life. It combines core, endurance, cardio, balance, strength and flexibility training in every move. It’s the hottest workout in Hollywood!”

  “I see.”

  That’s a lot more than I needed to know.

  “My trainer is the best in LA. She’s on set all day in a studio in the area with one of her A-list clients. She met me at Studio Flex gym at five-thirty this morning so I could squeeze in a much-needed workout,” she says sliding her hands down the length of her body.

  “You’re dedicated.”

  “Very,” she gives me a onceover before adding, “In. Everything. I. do.”

  Gotcha.

  “Great ethics.”

  “I know, right?” she smiles and extends her hand. “I’m Chelsea Hadder, by the way.”

  “Lochlan.”

  She narrows her brown eyes at me. “Just Lochlan?”

  “It’s so early, I don’t remember my last name.”

  “You’re funny.”

  Chelsea takes another step back when one of the girls behind the counter yells, “Next!”

  My turn soon. After the day I had yesterday, I could literally jump head first into a pool of caffeine.

  “I’m sure you know this, but you’re super hot!” Chelsea says.

  “Thank you.”

  “I love, love, love the color of your eyes. They’re so mysterious and a bit dangerous,” she says of my hazel brown eyes.

  “Thank you,” I repeat.

  “You’re tall. And strong. Look at that chest. And those biceps. And those muscular thighs,” her eyes bounce all over my body. “You’re handsome and built to perfection. Yum!” She actually licks her lips.

  She’s full of compliments.

  “I keep fit,” I say.

  “Impressive,” there’s a tinge of admiration in her eyes.

  “Takes one to know one,” I say.

  “Soooooo now you notice little ol’ me.”

  I didn’t mean anything by it, but her coquettish hip movement lets me know she’s taking this very seriously.

  “Are you an actor, Lochlan?” she asks.

  “No.”

  “You must be a model?”

  “No,” I answer her with a headshake.

  “Tsk, this is hard,” she says knitting her eyebrows together. “Movie studio exec?”

  “Not quite.”

  “Singer? With that rich voice you must be in a band?”

  “Nope. And nope.”

  “I know!” she says snapping her fingers together. “You’re a personal trainer!”

  “You’re getting colder.”

  “Come on, Lochlan, give a girl a break,” she implores.

  Let me put her out of her misery.

  “I shape the image of bands on video.”

  “Ooohhh. You’re crazy handsome and you’re an influencer. Talk about double threat.”

  You sure know how to butter up a guy.

  “And what do you do?”

  “I’m a socialite, Lochlan.”

  I didn’t know that was a profession.

  “And you do that full-time?” I joke.

  She swats my arm. “There you go again being funny.”

  “I try my best.”

  “Well, Lochlan…” She really likes my name. “Mr. Wheeler and Dealer––”

  “Next!” the redhead behind the counter yells.

  “I think it’s your turn,” I tell Chelsea when she’s still staring at me.

  “I guess it is. Coffee first, as they say.”

  “Always,” I smile.

  The way she sashays provocatively to the counter gives me a good eyeful of the incredible virtues of Lagree.

  Bless her toned ass.

  A few minutes later, I’m still waiting in line when Chelsea strides my way, extra-large cup of coffee in hand, and the only way to describe how she blatantly checks me out, is maneater. She stops near me, leans in and whispers, “I’ll wait for you outside, Lochlan.”

  I just smile.

  With that, she makes her way to the door and gives me one last look before exiting.

  I shake my head amused.

  I’ve never met anyone who could flirt this hard this early in the morning.

  After placing my order, I do a mental countdown until I’m holding my cup of coffee in my hands. The only reason I don’t take a sip immediately after paying is because I don’t want to lose my tongue.

  When I step outside, there’s no trace of Chelsea anywhere.

  Oh, well. I guess she didn’t wait for me after all.

  I take a long sip of my coff
ee and do a silent prayer as the hot liquid travels down my pipes. Finally. I take another long sip before I cross the street. I’m just about to take a step forward, when a car horn blares. I halt just in the nick of time and turn my head to see Chelsea waving frantically at me. The roof is pulled down.

  Wow, Chelsea has money.

  My silver Lexus LC 500H set me back by a shit ton of money—worth every penny—but I wasn’t willing to put more on a car. Chelsea’s wheels cost a cool three hundred thousand dollars for the base model. Her pimped out version must cost a cool half a million. No joke. I know because I test drove it. This is top of the line in sports cars. I should be impressed, but this is Hollywood after all.

  “You thought I had forgotten all about you?” she asks when she parks her luxury vehicle right in front of me.

  “I figured you had someplace to be.”

  “I’m in no rush,” she says with a noncommittal one-shoulder shrug.

  “I wish I was in your shoes, but I have a very busy day ahead.”

  “I get it,” she smiles. “Before you go, I have a proposition for you, Lochlan.”

  “You do?”

  “Uh-huh,” she nods.

  “I’m all ears.”

  “You ride me…” her eyes settle on my crotch. Her lips part and she locks eyes again. Subtle, she isn’t. “And make me purr and you can take my wheels for a long spin,” she caresses her dashboard.