Publication date: October 10th 2017
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
A new STANDALONE romance from New York Times bestselling author Jana Aston
Have you ever set out to have a one night stand with a sexy stranger?
No? I’m the only one?
Just kidding, I would never.
But then I figured, why not? My entire life I’ve been good and it’s gotten me nowhere.
I’m owed a little fun, aren’t I? A reward for being good.
Sure, a new pair of shoes would be more appropriate, but Mr. Sexy Stranger is more appealing. And when he speaks—in that British accent—it’s a done deal. Every American woman has a hot British guy fantasy. Well, most do. I haven’t taken a poll or anything, but I’m pretty sure it’s a fact.
You know that saying about best-laid plans?
Good, because I don’t either, but I assume they go awry.
Like my one night stand…
“Mind if I join you?”
I look up and he’s standing beside my seat, a drink in his hand that he uses to signal towards the empty seat beside me. And what was that? Did I detect an accent? I think I did, but I can’t be that lucky. I swallow my nerves and quickly run my eyes over him. Tall. Fit. Oxford shirt untucked, paired with a worn pair of jeans. Leather loafers on his feet and the hint of end-of-day scruff on his jaw. Thick, neatly cut, well-styled dark hair and expressive brown eyes watching me with interest.
“I hope the drink is to your satisfaction.” He dips his head towards my beverage. “I asked the bartender to refresh you, but if you wanted something different…” He trails off with a small frown at my glass.
Accent confirmed. I have just hit the holy grail of potential one-night stands.
“You’re British,” I say, fighting the grin from my face.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he replies and sets his own drink on the bar top while resting on the stool beside me, his long legs bent slightly at the knees in order for his feet to rest on the floor. “Unless you have a problem with my country?” he inquires, brow raised and a small smile on his lips.
Do you know what’s great about British men?
I mean, I’ve never met one before this and they’re likely no different than American men, but the accent. It’s everything, right? You can say it’s a cliché or whatever, but come on. It’s panty-meltingly good. I know he’s speaking the same language but the words just sound so much better falling from his lips.
“I’m Jennings,” he says, extending a hand, and I almost laugh. Jennings? It’s obviously fake. This guy is too old to have a trendy millennial name like Jennings. Also, it sounds British for ‘I’m giving you a fake name.’ But fine, I’m game.
“Rose,” I tell him and slip my hand into his. His hand engulfs mine and he’s not quick to withdraw, instead running his thumb gently over the back of my hand. I like the feeling a lot, the texture and warmth of his skin creating an immediate spark of interest in touching a whole lot more of him.
“Rose,” he repeats, pausing and tilting his head a fraction as if he doesn’t believe me. He shouldn’t, it’s not my name.
Jana Aston likes cats, big coffee cups and books about billionaires who deflower virgins. She wrote her debut novel while fielding customer service calls about electrical bills, and she's ever grateful for the fictional gynecologist in Wrong that readers embraced so much she was able to make working in her pajamas a reality. Jana’s novels have appeared on the NYT, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestsellers list, some multiple times. She likes multiples.