Neighbors (Twin Estates #1) (32 page)

To Be Continued ...

Songs that I listened to while writing, songs that made me think of the story, and a couple that inspired actual scenes.

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Sia – Cheap Thrills

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Caterina Valente – Kiss of Fire

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Lisa Fischer – Ruler of My Heart

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Creedance Clearwater – I Put A Spell On You

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Ke$ha – Dirty Love

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Ariana Grande – Dangerous Woman

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Bryan Ferry – Slave to Love

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Zayn Malik – Pillowtalk

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Nick Jonas ft. Tove Lo – Close

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Lo-Fang – Boris

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The Chainsmokers – Don't Let Me Down

I went through a super long dry spell. I wrote The Bad Ones in December of 2015. Of course there was lots of editing and rewriting that happened, but the rough draft and main content were done in December.

And then I didn't write anything else until August of 2016.

Oh, for sure, I started things. Started lots of things. Even got up to 40,000 words on one story (about half of an average length novel). But nothing stuck. Everything felt forced, I wasn't into it. Since publishing, that was the longest stretch of time I've gone without completing some kind of work. It wasn't even necessarily writer's block – I just didn't WANT to work.

I had gone through a move, I'm sure that had something to do with it. When things finally settled down, I went back home for a visit. One morning, I had a bizarre dream. I've been writing for basically my entire life, and I have never dreamed about my characters or written one of my dreams down.

I literally dreamed I was brainstorming a story. It was like watching a movie, while plotting it. I can remember coming up with their names so clearly, Liam's and Wulf's. Wulfric Stone was first, like he was introducing himself to me. Eden was second. Then Katya and Liam in the sex club, the crazy wild sex they had, everything, all the way up until she meets Wulf in her bakery. It was crazy! My brain did all the work while I was sleeping! Why can't it ALWAYS be like that!?

So yes, everything from the first word till Wulf meets Katya, is exactly how it was in my dream. I had no clue if it was going to take off or not, but the ideas kept pouring out.

As always, enough thanks cannot be said to Ratula. #CONGRATULATIONS, bitch, book number four in the bag! Through thick and thin, bitch fests, laugh fests, documentaries, scary movies, Tiny Dog – I look forward to our conversations each and every day, and I just want to say thank you for being an amazing friend.

For this book, I added a whole new slew of beta readers because it's fun to have strangers tell you when your stuff sucks, HAHA! No, but with every book, I usually add a new reader or two, to keep things fresh. This book, I added something like SEVEN. Some I'd never interacted with prior to them beta reading. And it was awesome, you all helped immensely, it was an amazing experience.

So thank you to my OGs, Angie, Sunny, Letty, Jo, Rebecca, Lheanne, Rebeka, Shannon, and Sue. Some of you have been there since the very first book – even the ones that haven't been published! Most have helped me since Separation. So thank you for sticking with me for so long.

To my new betas – Andrea, Jennifer, Berenice, Tink, Jennifer G., Deanna Pinklady, and Bex, you more than did a good job. You all proved to have great insights and wonderful advice, and taught me so many things. Sex clubs usually don't sell booze! I had no clue! Thank god you all filled out the form, this book wouldn't be half as good without you.

Thank you to Champagne Formats and Qamber Designs for giving me some of the best looking books out there! Each and every one are stunning, in my humble opinion, and your work harmonizes so well with my vision. Thanks so much.

Special thanks to Christine at Shh Mom's Reading. You've done all my releases since Reparation, but you weren't able to do this book. I'm so sad that aspect of our relationship is over, but so excited and happy for your new adventures. Thank you for six amazing releases.

A NEW thanks to The Rock Stars of Romance, for stepping in at kind of the last minute and handling the release of
this
book. I'm a nervous person by nature, I don't deal well with “meeting” new people, online or otherwise, so it was important for me to deal with people I “knew”, or who would get me. Milasy, you've always been amazing and supportive, thank you for helping out so quickly when I messaged you. Lisa, you're a rock star, and I wonder when/if you ever sleep – thank you for making this smooth and painless for someone like me, who expects everything to be difficult and uncomfortable.

Of course, thank you to every blog that has shared, posted, read, reviewed, done giveaways, made teasers, all of the above and everything beyond. What you do every day is amazing and when I feel like complaining, I try to picture what it's like to run a wordpress site, and then I shut up. Thank you so much.

All the readers. Each and every single one. Authors, bloggers, reviewers, stay at home moms, people reading at their desks at work. In bed at night, in their car in a parking lot, whenever there's spare time. Thank you for liking my words. This never gets easier and each time I'm sure it's going to be the worst book ever, but you all prove me wrong every time. I have a very magical profession – thank you for allowing me to pursue it.

To Mr. F. It's been an interesting year. Awful and wonderful and strange. I'm glad it happened, and I will be glad when it's over, but most of all, I'm glad you love me. Thank you for being such a big part of my life and for shaping me into the person I am today.

A Twin Estates Novel

excerpt

Breathe. Breathe. Don't think. Breathe. Breathe. Did I sign that paperwork the office sent over? Breathe. Breathe. Have to check that escrow deal. Breathe. Breathe. God, what is she doing right now. How did this get so fucked up. I knew I should have fucking listened to myself and walked –
DON'T THINK
. Breathe. Breathe.

While Wulfric Stone's natural habitat was an Olympic sized swimming pool, it wasn't the only form of exercise he got – he had a stressful job, he had lots of different ways of burning off the tension. Running came a close second to swimming for clearing his head. It created a different sort of burn in his muscles, created a whole new plethora of aches and pains.

Sometimes, when he was particularly angry about something, he preferred it over swimming. After doing a couple miles worth of laps, he could just float away. Literally. Lay on his back and be weightless for a while. Not with running, though. How cruel – a sport that takes a person miles away from their starting point, and if they push themselves too hard, it just means they have to turn around and do the same distance back. Feel like collapsing? No weightless pond to float in. No, the best case scenario meant hopefully finding a cool patch of grass to collapse onto and pray his muscles didn't cramp up while gravity put pressure on every limb.

Yes, running was a very punishing sport, and Wulfric Stone was a bad man who definitely deserved punishment.

Breathe. Breathe.

His calves were burning and sweat was
pouring
down his body. He was pretty sure his lungs were getting ready to stage a coup and walk out on him. Still, he kept pushing, pounding his feet down harder against the ground.

How can I breathe when she's not here to help me?

Wulf let out a frustrated shout and ripped his earphones off. This wasn't working. He slowed to a stop. He knew it was a bad idea, he should jog for a while, reducing his pace slowly, but fuck it. Running away from his problems clearly wasn't helping. Maybe a massive charlie horse would successfully distract him.

Or maybe he could have a heart attack, that would be
perfect
.

He veered off the pathway, heading straight into the woods. San Francisco was entering fall and as a breeze hit his sweat slicked skin, he shivered. He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and brought it to his forehead, mopping up sweat. When he lowered the material, he glanced around and realized he'd wandered so far, he couldn't see where the trail was anymore.

Good. Maybe I'll be lost in here forever. That would solve everything. Jesus, how did everything get so fucked up?

It was a rhetorical question – Wulf knew the answer.
He
had fucked it all up. Broken his own rules, gone against his own advice, and look what had happened. He was a mess, wandering around in the woods, cursing at trees.

Worse, was he'd known just how bad the ending between could be, he'd seen it all unraveling from early on, and he'd tried to avoid it by doing what he did best. Being an asshole. After all, if he told her about their little scam, she'd leave him. If he didn't tell her and she found out, she'd leave him. If Liam told her, she'd leave him. It seemed to Wulfric that the only possible outcome was Katya leaving him.

So, like a true gentleman, Wulf left her first.

Why did she come back? If she'd just stayed away, everything would be fine. Fucking fine.

Except it wouldn't be fine. He'd be a shell of man – or at least, a worse version than the one he'd already been – and she'd be convincing herself Liam was the perfect guy for her. Wulf couldn't stand that thought. Couldn't bear the idea of Liam touching her and kissing her and seeing her naked and making her sigh and gasp.

“
AH!
”

His fist slammed into the tree before he even knew his arm was moving. He hadn't pulled the punch at all, striking the trunk as hard as he could, but Wulf barely felt anything. He was numb.

So he hit it again. And again. And didn't stop till blood was running down his fist, and even then, he still didn't feel a thing. It was only the red staining his white t-shirt that gave him pause.

Of course I didn't feel anything. I'm Wulfric Stone, and stones don't have feelings.

DEGRADATION

Available Now

If you haven't met Jameson Kane yet, read below for a sneak peek …

Tatum plucked at her shirt in a nervous manner. She had tucked it into a tight pencil skirt and even put on a pair of sling back stilettos. If someone had personally requested her, she wanted to make an effort to look nice. She had blown out her hair and put curls in the ends, and toned down her make up. Even she had to admit it, she looked presentable.

For once.

Men in expensive business suits began to file into the conference room and she stood still, giving a polite smile to everyone who entered. A team of lawyers was meeting with their client. Six chairs were lined up on one side of a long table, with just a single chair on the other side.

Tate had been positioned at the back of the room, next to a sideboard filled with goodies and coffee and water. She fussed about, straightening napkins and setting up the glasses. When all six chairs were filled on the one side, she stared at their backs, wondering who the big shot was that got to stare them all down. The person who would be facing her. A door at the back of the room swung open and her breath caught in her threat.

Holy. Shit.

Jameson Kane strode into the room, only offering a curt smile to his lawyers. His eyes flashed to her for just a second, then he looked back. His smile became genuine and he tipped his head towards her, almost like a bow.

She gaped back at him, positive that her mouth was hanging open. What was he doing there!? Had he known she would be there? Had he been the one to request her? Impossible, he didn't know what temp agency she worked for – but what would be the chances? She hadn't seen him in seven years, and now twice in two days.

Tate felt like swallowing her tongue.

“Gentlemen,” Jameson began, seating himself across from the lawyers. “Thanks for meeting with me today. Would anyone care for any coffee? Water? The lovely Ms. O'Shea will be helping us today.” He gestured towards Tate, but no one turned around. Several people asked for coffee. Jameson asked for water, his smile still in place. It was almost a smirk. Like he knew something she didn't.

She began to grind her teeth.

She delivered everyone's drinks, then carried around a tray of snacks. No one took anything. She moved to the back of the room, refilled the water pitcher. Tidied up. Felt Jameson staring at her.

This is ridiculous. You're Tatum O'Shea. You eat boys for breakfast.

But thinking that made her remember when he had said something very similar to her, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks.

She was pretty much ignored the whole time. They all argued back and forth about what business decisions Jameson should, or shouldn't, make. He was very keen on dismantling struggling companies and selling them off. They tried to curb his desires. His tax lawyer explained how his tax shelter in Hong Kong was doing. Another lawyer gave him a run down on property law in Switzerland. Tate tried to hide her yawns.

They took a five minute break after an hour had passed. Tate had her back to the room, rearranging some muffins on a tray, when she felt the hair on the back of her neck start to stand up. She turned around in slow motion, taking in Jameson as he walked up to her.

“Surprised?” he asked, smiling down at her.

“Very. Did you ask for me?” she questioned. He nodded.

“Yes. You ran away so quickly the other night. I wanted to get reacquainted,” he explained. She laughed.

“Maybe I didn't,” she responded. He shrugged.

“That doesn't really matter to me. What are you doing tonight?” he asked. She was a little caught off guard.

“Are you asking me out, Kane?” she blurted out. He threw back his head and laughed.

“Oh god, still a little girl.
No.
I don't ask people out. I was asking what you were doing tonight,” Jameson replied.

She willed away the blush she felt coming on. He still had the ability to make her feel so stupid. She had been through so much since him, come so far with her esteem and her life. It wasn't fair that he could still make her feel so small. She wanted to return the favor. She cleared her throat.

“I'm working.”

“Where?”

“At a bar.”

“What bar?”

“A bar you don't know.”

“And tomorrow night?”

“Busy.”

“And the night after that?”

“
Every
night after that,” Tate informed him, crossing her arms. He narrowed his eyes, but continued smiling.

“Surely you can find some time to meet up with an old friend,” he said. She shook her head.

“We were never friends, Kane,” she pointed out. He laughed.

“Then what is it? Are you scared of me? Scared I'll eat you alive?” he asked. She stepped closer to him, refusing to be intimidated.

“I think
you're
the one who should be scared. You don't know me, Kane. You never did.
And you never will,
” she whispered. Jameson leaned down so his lips were almost against her ear.

“I know what you feel like from the inside. That's good enough for me,” he whispered back. Tate stepped away. She felt like she couldn't breathe. He did something to her insides.

“You, and a lot of other people. You're not as big a deal as you think,” she taunted. It was a complete lie, but she had to get the upper hand back. He smirked at her.

“That sounds like a challenge to me. I have to defend my honor,” he warned her. She snorted.

“Whatever. Point to the challenger then,
me.
Defend away,” she responded, rolling her eyes.

He didn't respond, just continued smirking down at her. The lawyers began filing back into the room and Jameson took his position on the other side of the table. She wasn't really sure what their little spar had been about, or what had come out of it. She was just going to try to get through the rest of the conference, and then she would scurry away before he could talk to her again. She didn't want anything to do with Jameson Kane, or his -,

“Ms. O'Shea,” his sharp voice interrupted her thoughts. Tate lifted her head.

“Yes, sir?” she asked, making sure to keep her voice soft and polite.

“Could you bring me some water, and something to eat,” he asked, not even bothering to look at her as he flipped through a contract.

She loaded up a tray with his requests and made her way around the table. No one even looked at her, they just threw legal jargon around at each other – a language she didn't know. She stood next to Jameson and leaned forward, setting his water down and then going about arranging cheese and crackers on a plate for him. She was about halfway done when she felt it.

Are those ... his fingers!?

Tate froze for a second. His touch was light as he ran his fingers up and down between her legs. She glanced down at her knees and then glanced over at him. He was still looking down, but she could see him smirking. She tried to ignore him, tried to go back to setting up his food, but his hand went higher. Daring to brush up past her knees, well underneath her skirt. He couldn't get any farther, not unless he pushed up her skirt, or sunk down in his chair. She dumped the rest of the cheese on his plate and started to scoot away. She had just gotten back to her station when she heard a thunking noise, followed by groans.

“No worries. Ms. O'Shea! So sorry, could you get this?” Jameson's voice was bored sounding.

She turned around and saw that he had knocked over his water glass. He was blotting at the liquid as it spread across the table. The lawyers were all holding their papers aloft, grumbling back and forth.

Tate groaned and grabbed a towel before striding back to the table. She glared at him the whole way, but he still refused to look at her. She started as far away from him as she could get, mopping everything up, but eventually she had to almost lean across him to reach the mess. She stood on her toes, stretching across the table top.

As she had assumed it would, his hand found its way back to her legs. Only this time he wasn't shy, and her position allowed for a lot of access. His hand shot straight up the back of her skirt, his fingertips brushing against the lace of her panties.

She swallowed a squeak and glanced around. If any of the other gentlemen lifted their heads, they would have been able to see their client with half of his arm up his assistant's skirt, plain as day. He managed to run his finger under the hem of her underwear, down the left side of her butt cheek, before she pulled away. She stomped back to the food station, throwing the towel down with such violence, she knocked over a stack of sugar cubes.

When she turned around, Jameson was finally looking at her. She plunked her fists on her hips, staring straight back. His smirk was in place – as she had expected it would be – and he held up a finger, pointing it straight up.
One
. Then he pointed at himself. One point.
Tied
. He thought they were playing a game. She hadn't wanted to play games with him, but she hated to lose at
anything
, and she never wanted to lose to a man like Jameson Kane.

An idea flitted across her mind. Tate wanted to make him as uncomfortable as he had just made her feel. She coolly raised an eyebrow and then took her time looking around the room. The lawyers all still had their backs to her – not one of them had turned around the entire time she'd been there. Blinds had been drawn over every window, no one could see in the office, but she knew the door wasn't locked. Anyone could walk into the room. She took a deep breath. It didn't matter anyway, what was the worst that could happen? She would get fired? It was a temp job, that Jameson had requested her for – he didn't even work there. Did she really care what happened?

She dragged her stare back to meet his and then ran her hands down the sides of her skirt. He raised an eyebrow as well, his eyes following her hands. When she got to the hem of the skirt, she pressed her palms flat and began to slowly,
achingly
, slide the material up her legs. Now both his eyebrows were raised. He flicked his gaze to her face, then went right back to her skirt. Higher, up past her knees. To the middle of her thighs. Higher still. If anyone turned around, they would be very surprised at what they saw. One more inch, and her skirt would be moot. Jameson's stare was practically burning holes through her.

Taking short, quick, breaths through her nose, Tate slid her hands around to her butt. She wiggled the material up higher back there, careful to keep the front low enough to hide her whole business, and was able to hook her fingers into her underwear. She didn't even think about what she was doing, couldn't take her eyes off of Jameson, as she slid her underwear over her butt and down her hips. As the lace slid to her ankles, she pushed her skirt back into place. Then she stepped out of the panties and bent over, picking them up. When she stood upright, she let the lace dangle from her hand while she held up one finger. Point.

Winning.

Jameson nodded his head at her, obviously conceding to her victory, then returned his attention to the papers in front of him. Tate let out a breath that she hadn't even realized she was holding, and turned around, bracing her hands against the table. She leaned forward and took deep breaths. She had just started to gain some ground on slowing her heart rate, when a throat cleared.

“What is that, Ms. O'Shea?” Jameson called out from behind her. She spun around, balling up her underwear in her fist.

“Excuse me, sir?” she asked.

“That,” he continued, gesturing with his pen at her. “In your hands. You have something for me. Bring it here.”

Now everyone turned towards her. Tate held herself as still as possible, her hands clasped together in front of her legs, hiding the underwear between her fingers. All eyes were on her. Jameson smirked at her and leaned back in his chair. She took a shaky breath.

“I don't know what -,”

“Bring it here, Ms. O'Shea,
now,
” he ordered, tapping the table top with his pen. She glared at him.

Fuck this.

She turned around and pulled one of the silver trays in front of her. She laid her panties out neatly on top, making sure the material was smooth and flat. She was very thankful that she had gone all out and worn her good, expensive, “
I'm-successful-and-career-oriented!
”, underwear. She balanced the tray on top of her fingertips and spun around, striding towards their table, a big smile on her face.

“For you, Mr. Kane,” she said in a breathy voice, then dropped the tray in front of him. It clattered loudly and spun around a little before coming to a rest, the panties sliding off to one side.

As she walked away, she could hear some gasps. A couple laughs. A very familiar chuckle. When she got to the door, she pulled it open before turning back to the room. A couple of the lawyers were gawking at her, and the rest were laughing, gesturing to the display she had just put on; Jameson was looking straight at her, his smirk in place. She blew him a kiss and then stomped out the door.