One And Done is releasing on July 19th (it is available for pre-order now) and I’m sharing the first two chapters of this 300 page plus contemporary erotic romance.
Read the first scene here: http://tasteofcyn.com/2016/06/06/one-and-done-first-scene/
The taxi driver drops me off in front of a cube-shaped building. A spotlight illuminates the sign on its roof. Smoke. The name sounds familiar. This club must belong to one of Edward’s clients.
I study the structure. It’s situated on prime real estate. The property taxes must be hefty. The utilities bill would be high also.
The frosted windows are brightly lit, silhouettes of women appearing on the glass. There’s exactly one dancer per frame, perfectly placed.
That must be their job—to dance in windows. How were they chosen? Did they go to school for this?
I picture a stuffy tweed-garbed professor standing at the front of a classroom, droning on and on about the ideal speed to shake one’s ass and my lips twitch.
The training process, whatever it was, worked. The dancers are accomplishing their goal—to attract guests. A crowd circles the club. The line to get into the club stretches along the paved perimeter.
As I study the club goers, two scantily clad waifs wobble toward the biggest, broadest man I’ve ever seen. He’s imposing, as large as the door he’s guarding, his arms crossed, his feet braced apart.
I clasp my tin of cookies tighter, daunted by his size.
The girls either don’t have the sense to be intimidated or they don’t care. They giggle and smile, teetering on their high heels, one strong breeze away from falling over.
The doorman listens to their nonsense for a minute or two, his darkening expression hinting at his irritation. Just when I’m convinced he’ll deny them, sending their bony asses to the back of the line, he unclips the velvet rope, his bulging biceps straining the seams of his ill-fitting black blazer.
The doorman waves the girls into the building and refastens the velvet rope, acting as though he hasn’t seen the dozens of people standing in line along the sidewalk.
Groans rise from the club kids. And club kids is the right description. These infants are predominantly male and young, so damn young, their faces round and smooth, their bodies not yet filled out with muscle and time.
They smell of cheap cologne and desperation, as though not getting into this club tonight will result in a lifetime alone. I remember that feeling, only too well.
Thank God, I have Edward now. I no longer have to worry about hooking up, no longer have to sift through hundreds of would-be players to find one worthy man. I’ve already met the love of my life, the future father of my children.
Eager to see that wonderful man, I stride to the front of the line.
“Uh-oh Dave, your mom is here,” one of the club kids yells. His sneer makes him appear more cute than fierce.
I doubt he’s legal. He looks like he’s ten, not the required nineteen.
“Fuck you,” a pretty blond child cusses. The two jostle each other, jabbing stomachs with elbows.
I ignore them and their insults. Edward loves me the way I am. His opinion is all that matters.
“Good evening.” I smile at the doorman. His grumpy expression doesn’t change. “I’m meeting my boyfriend, Edward Langston. He’s already inside.” I step forward.
The doorman shifts to the left, blocking me. “The line is to your right, ma’am.”
I glance over my shoulder. I’m not waiting in line. That could take hours.
“I’ll call him.” I dig my phone out of my pocket. “He’ll come and get me.”
“If he leaves the building, I can’t allow him back inside.”
“What?” I stare at the doorman.
“Those are the rules, ma’am.” The big man shrugs. “No re-entry.”
“You don’t understand.” He mustn’t or he’d let me in. “Edward is here for business. He’s a lawyer.”
“I don’t care if he’s the Queen of England.” The doorman sounds as exasperated as I feel. “He won’t be allowed back into the club. Join the end of the line. We’re at capacity.”
I glance at the line. There are wrappers from Bob’s Burger Barn and disposable cups from trendy coffee shops scattered around the club kids’ feet. They’ve been waiting for a while.
I don’t have time for this. “I—”
“Join the end of the line, ma’am.” The doorman gestures in that direction.
“Moove along, lady,” Dave, the club kid, yells, setting off a wave of moos and increasingly ignorant comments.
The doorman is doing the world a favor, not allowing these creatures to breed.
I’m thankful once again that I have Edward, a man who appreciates me, who sees past my dress size. I don’t belong in this club.
As though the universe wishes to drive this realization home, a trio of bleary-eyed size-nothing blondes approach us. “Hi, Tyrice.” The head blonde waves at the bodyguard. “Is it bring-your-mom-to-work day?” The other girls giggle.
Was I ever that young?
Or thin?
Or stupid?
Tyrice the doorman and I are on the opposite sides of the skin tone spectrum. He’s as dark as I am pale. Either she’s assuming Tyrice is adopted or she’s as dumb as she appears.
The man grunts and lets the idiotic trio through the door. The kids waiting in line express their unhappiness. My gaze follows the girls’ scrawny frames.
Calling their outfits lingerie would be greatly overstating the amount of fabric used. Their skirts are so short I see the folds under their ass cheeks.
I’m wearing my long coat.
I’m the idiot. Of course, Tyrice won’t allow me into the club. He doesn’t think I’m suitably dressed. I shrug out of the coat and fold it over one arm.
“Put it back on,” one of the club kids yells.
“She’s blinded me.”
I disregard the rude comments, keeping my attention on Tyrice. The doorman’s gaze sweeps over me.
Is that a glint of approval I see in his eyes?
“Is this better?” I beam at him, trying to ignore the fact that I’m standing on a sidewalk in downtown Toronto wearing a babydoll, boy shorts and heels.
“That’s much better.” His voice deepens. “But I still can’t let you in, ma’am.”
Subscribe To My Release Day Newsletter: http://tasteofcyn.com/2014/05/28/newsletter/
He wants one night. I want forever.
Hit it and quit it—that’s Smoke Sheridan’s relationship philosophy. The tall, dark, and dangerous club owner never spends more than one night with any woman. He seduces the broken-hearted, leaving them with smiles on their faces and a sexual confidence other men can’t resist.
I need his services.
My boyfriend of four years dumped me because I’m a lousy lay. Smoke can help me win him back, teach me how to make my man writhe in ecstasy. I’ll show him such bliss, he’ll bellow my name in the dark of the night, want me with an all-consuming desire.
This sounds like a great plan. Except I see the loneliness in Smoke’s eyes, feel the wistfulness in his touch, experience the wanting in his embrace. The player isn’t as shallow as he appears.
And I’ve never been good at letting go.
One And Done contains inappropriate humor, very bad pickup lines, a BBW heroine who doesn’t know what she’s doing and a player who thinks he does.
This is a standalone story.
Buy Now:
On Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/One-Done-Cynthia-Sax-ebook/dp/B01FOVMF70
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-oneanddone-2040641-340.html
On Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/one-and-done-cynthia-sax/1123809444
On Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/one-and-done-1
