Hallen Jansen has it all. At 28, he has a flashy car, a great apartment, and a job he’s good at and that he loves – as an escort – working at your beck and call.
His life is easy, with no emotions or attachments slowing him down – choosing to keep moving, always running from the past. But when a new client awakens unfamiliar feelings, all bets are off. Can he convince a recently divorced woman twenty years older to trust men again – to trust him? Can Hallen trust himself not to screw things up?
Surrounded by people who choose to judge them, will they make their relationship a reality, or is it heartbreak for both?
Not all services are professional.
“Seriously, Eloise? A high school dance. Balloon arches and spiked punch?”
She laughed, although there was an edge to her voice.
“I would have thought it would make a nice change from older women, Hallen, and for once you can a knock a couple of years off your age.”
“Besides, the money is the same so what difference does it make?” Eloise said, brusquely. “Look, have you got any idea how brutal high school is for plain girls?”
Sometimes she made it sound like working as an escort was a mission, not … well, what it was.
“Melissa’s mother says she is very shy and a little overweight. She doesn’t want all her daughter’s memories of high school to be ghastly. And, frankly, there are very few reputable escort services offering anything to girls of her age. You’re only three years older and when you shave you’ll look younger. Look on it as an act of charity.”
“Oh, I’m sure Melissa would love to hear that,” I snarkedback.
“I told you to look her age, not act it,” Eloise replied, sharply. “Sweep her off her feet, but don’t sleep with her. Understand?”
I started writing contemporary romance two years ago. Before that, I didn’t think I could write a sex scene. Turns out I can!
My lucky number is 13 because I was born on the 13th and live near a haunted castle by the ocean. My number one past-time is watching hot surfers get changed into (and out of) their wetsuits.
My husband doesn’t read my books. My mother does.