Nothing to This Prequel: One Wild Night, an all-new billionaire prequel novella full of steam from bestselling author Scarlett Finn is available now!

Is a drink too much to ask?

In peace.

'Cept this a-hole says I'm in his seat.

The place is deserted, pick another.

But he doesn't. He sits right there next to me. Up close. Smoldering as he taunts. What am I supposed to do with that? Even my snippy, cynical woman bit doesn't deter him.

Yes, he's gorgeous.

And we're in a hotel.


Don't sleep with him, Rylee. Don't do it.

His suite has a bar. Damn… Why did I say yes?

One wild night.

Who knew it was going to last forever?

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“Jamison.” Oh, Mr. Connected. “Dawes.”
“Good for you.” She landed a suspicious eye on him. “You married?”
“No.” His hand just stayed there. “You?”
“No. Why would you ask me that?”
Except, her head tilted, hadn’t she just…?
“You asked me.”
“To find out if you’re a sleazy bar creeper who picks up women in bars while your wife waits at home.”
“And you couldn’t be a sleazy bar creeper who picks up men in bars while your husband waits at home?”
Touché. Intriguing.
“Rylee,” she said and shook her head. “But I don’t want to shake your hand.”
“I don’t know where it’s been.”
That wasn’t exactly the truth. Tequila was swirling in her stomach and his eyes had darkened. Oh, shit. This wasn’t the time to make bad decisions. If she could feel his pull just sitting next to him, touching wasn’t going to ease the burden. No, damn, and now she wanted to touch so much more than just his hand. She should’ve eaten something.
“I took a call,” he said, his palm settling on the bar. “Didn’t use the restroom.” She wasn’t even thinking that. He raised his glass. “Should we toast?”
“To what? I’m sitting here alone and didn’t invite you to join me.”
“I could argue you joined me,” he said, sipping his liquor. “You put yourself in my path.”
What was fate up to? The guy wasn’t wrong. And her snippy, cynical woman bit wasn’t doing its job. He was supposed to be deterred, not encouraged.
She sighed. “You were at the tech expo, Jamison Dawes?” Everyone around was. He nodded, confirming that notion. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? So much talent concentrated in a space that’s…Think if the building went on fire, humanity would be set back ten years? Technologically?”
“Twenty, at least,” he said. “Thinking about arson?”
“I’m thinking about how much we rely on technology and how it’s taken over our lives. We don’t even talk to each other anymore. No one just bumps into someone and hits it off. It’s contrived. Online. The web or apps. There’s an app for literally everything. And we can’t trust anyone in the digital world. Not even ourselves.”
“We bumped into each other.”
“Hmm,” she said, relaxing.
The precise haircut. The blue of his eyes. This was a guy who didn’t need to go online for any kind of relief. If he was interested in a woman, just looking at her would be enough. And then he dealt the killer blow and smiled.
“You’re staring,” he said on a whisper of a laugh. “You don’t think we’ll hit it off?”
Maybe. Bad idea. Yet, for some reason, she didn’t shut him down. “The night is young. I guess we’ll have to see how this plays out.”
“I guess we will.”
And when she raised her glass, he was nice enough to touch his to it. The tequila shooters were there when she put down her rum. Picking one up, she handed the other to him.
“To bumping into each other,” she said.
“To hitting it off.”

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