I work hard, I follow the rules, and I always achieve my goals.
But sometimes good girls want things that aren’t good for them.
Or someone who isn’t good for them.
Like their new boss.
And sometimes they do very bad things to get his attention.
Like sell their virginity in an auction.
Who knew he’d be so very, very mad.
Maybe this was not my best laid plan…
Rhys and Lydia are hilarious. Well, really, Lydia is hilarious. The things she thinks, the things she says...and the reactions he gives her made me laugh...the entire way through the book.
Somehow, this is my first title by Jana Aston. Nope, not sure how that happened, I am really not. But, I am glad I finally read her. This book was funny, it was charming, it was steamy and the sex, OMG the sex in this one...well, it's something else.
I laughed. I related to the characters, I enjoyed them and the writing style enough to not want to put this one down and to be sad to see it end.
There's not a lot I can say about this book in this review, as the joy of this one really is in reading it, in being inside Lydia's head as she makes pajamas out of sheets and convinces you that maybe, just maybe, the iced coffee from Del Taco might actually be good.
I enjoyed the heck out of this one, and I recommend it.
He pulls me to my feet and he kisses me and he tastes like me and it's dirty and shocking and sorta oddly thrilling and primal. He unsnaps my bra. The straps slip down my arms until it falls to the floor and then I'm naked. I'm naked with Rhys. This is the best day of my life. Except he's not naked.
"You're still dressed. Am I supposed to"—I gesture to his shirt—"am I supposed to or are you supposed to? Or do you like to keep your clothes on when you have sex?"
He laughs, his eyes dancing in amusement as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off. "No, I'm not going to fuck you with my clothes on, Lydia."
“Oh, thank goodness. I've really been wanting to see you naked. For a long time. Like weeks. Since the bar. The first time at the bar, not the second time. Can I take off your pants?" My fingers hover at his waistband, poised to unbutton and unzip but needing the nudge of permission.
"Please," he says and then my fingers are in motion, unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping. It's harder to do this in reverse, removing someone else's pants instead of your own, but I manage. I'd manage even if it was a thousand-piece puzzle instead of just a zipper and a button because I want his pants off pretty badly.
When I've got the pants undone they drop to the floor and then the only thing separating me from sex is a pair of briefs, so I make short work of those.
He's beautiful. Head to toe. I could spend all night looking at him, all month, forever. But I don't have forever or even all night since Rhys is worried about his schedule so I take in as much as I can as fast as I can. Because oh, holy crap, I know what Rhys Dalton looks like naked. The smattering of hair across his chest. His toned abs and flat stomach and the trail of hair from his belly button to his cock. The birthmark on his left hip and the definition of the lines that form on his abs. I send a silent prayer to baby Jesus that I'll get a good look at his butt before this is over because I need to know exactly what it looks like under those suit pants. Then too soon, he's moving me onto the bed because this is it. This is the sex.