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‘I shouldn’t sleep with you again.’ She raked her eyes up and lingered on the open collar of his shirt for a second.
It certainly looks as though you feel that way,’ he said, sarcasm colouring his tone as he looked down at her hand, still in his lap.
She snatched it back, cheeks colouring. ‘I should have learnt my lesson the first time.’
‘And what lesson was that?’ He sipped his Scotch.
She ran her fingers up and down the stem of her martini glass. ‘That multiple orgasms tend to cloud my judgement.’
Col swallowed. ‘Multiple orgasms are never a bad thing.’
‘No, but they do have a way of obscuring the facts.’
‘The facts?’
‘That you and I shouldn’t have got together.’ She licked her lips, that pink tongue once again darting out to betray her.
‘Your lips are saying one thing, but I know your tells, Ellie.’
‘You know far less than you think you do.’ She leant forward, her hand at the collar of his shirt. ‘But I know when to call your bluff.’
He breathed in the honeyed scent of her … it was complex and intoxicating. ‘You certainly grew up.’
She threw her head back and laughed, the tinkling sound making his blood fizz.
Family is something that’s very dear to my heart. When I was growing up my parents instilled into me and my little sister a very strong sense of what it means to be part of a family—the give and take, the responsibility and the reward. I’ll be honest: in my teenage years it drove me nuts! But I never lacked a shoulder to cry on, a hug to ease my sadness or a high-five to congratulate me on a job well done. Looking back, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
When I started writing Col and Elise’s story I wondered what it would be like for two people with very difficult family lives to come together. Elise grew up in a home where her family members didn’t demonstrate their love, or any type of strong emotion for that matter. Col, on the other hand, came from an abusive home where strong emotions (of the worst kind) ruled.
Writing their story was not easy, and I might have shed a few tears along the way, but I hope you love watching Elise and Col learn to trust in one another as much as I loved writing about it.
With love
Stefanie
PS I love hearing from my readers. You can get in contact with me via e-mail: [email protected], Twitter: @Stefanie_London, or Facebook: Stefanie London Author
Breaking
the Bro Code
Stefanie London
STEFANIE LONDON comes from a family of women who love to read. When she was growing up her favourite activity was going shopping with her nan during school holidays, when she would sit on the floor of the bookstore with her little sister and painstakingly select the books to spend her allowance on. Thankfully, Nan was a very patient woman.
Thus it was no surprise when Stefanie ended up being the sort of student who would read her English books before the semester started. After sneaking several literature subjects into her ‘very practical’ business degree, she got a job in Communications. When writing emails and newsletters didn’t fulfil her creative urges she turned to fiction, and was finally able to write the stories that kept her mind busy at night.
Now she lives in Melbourne, with her very own hero and enough books to sink a ship. She frequently indulges in her passions for good coffee, French perfume, high heels and zombie movies. During the day she uses lots of words like ‘synergy’ and ‘strategy’. At night she writes sexy, contemporary romance stories and tries not to spend too much time shopping online and watching baby animal videos on YouTube.
To Mum, Dad and Sami, for all the laughter, hugs and comfort that filled our house growing up.
I wouldn’t have made it this far without you.
Contents
Dear Reader
DEDICATION
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
EPILOGUE
The numbers didn’t make sense. Well, that wasn’t entirely true—they made sense, but they didn’t tell the story Elise Johnson had hoped for. They didn’t tell her that she ran a successful, thriving ballet studio. They didn’t tell her that she’d be able to live off anything other than baked beans and toast this week. More concerning, they didn’t tell her that things were going to get better any time soon.
She rested her chin in her hand and frowned as the grid of looping cursive swam in front of her. Maybe she’d skip the baked beans and head straight for a bottle of wine instead.
‘You’ll go cross-eyed,’ Jasmine Bell, Elise’s best friend and employee, chirped as she changed out of her leg warmers. ‘I always thought number crunching was best left to the professionals.’
‘What are you trying to say?’ She looked up from her paperwork, feigning indignity as Jasmine smirked.
‘Oh, nothing...only I remember a young girl once faking a panic attack to get out of a maths exam.’
‘There wasn’t anything fake about it.’ Elise closed the folder containing the evidence of her dire financial situation and tucked it away in a drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. ‘That panic was real.’
‘And the time you tried to con your maths tutor into doing your homework for you by flashing him?’
‘That was less about the maths homework and more about him—he was seriously cute. Unfortunately for me a tiny bust was not enough