Authors: Jessica Hawkins
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“You’re up early,” she heard from behind her.
Lola replaced the flower, slipping it back into its spot, and turned around. Beau leaned in the doorway, his suit straight and sharp, a newspaper folded under his arm.
She went to him. “I wanted to say good morning before you left.”
He checked his watch. “By the skin of your teeth.”
She smiled thinly. Beau was punctual. That was no surprise. But when she’d fantasized about spending a morning with him, it hadn’t been anything like this—scrounging for extra minutes. Not that it really mattered.
She put slinky arms around his neck, drew his head down to hers. “Are you hungry? I can make you something quick.”
“What do you think?” His voice deepened as he rested a hand on her lower back, at the base of her zipper. “I’m a man who hasn’t eaten in almost three weeks.”
Lola lingered a moment, their mouths close, prolonging a kiss that wasn’t just a kiss. It was a sneak preview. A tease. A warning. She pressed her lips to his like a woman who didn’t want her boyfriend to walk out the door. Like a woman in love.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jessica Hawkins grew up between the purple mountains and under the endless sun of Palm Springs, California. She studied international business at Arizona State University and has also lived in Costa Rica and New York City. To her, the most intriguing fiction is forbidden, and that’s what you’ll find in her stories. Currently, she resides wherever her head lands, which is often the unexpected (but warm) keyboard of her trusty MacBook.
CONNECT WITH JESSICA
wherever she goes.
her Facebook page.
Cover Photo ©
Midnight (Night Fever Serial 2.5)
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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