PLEASURE IN HIS ARMS (July, 2019)
The video about her one-night stand with Hamptons bad boy Chase Crawford could make YouTube sensation Demi Harris an even bigger social media star. The catch? The beauty-and-lifestyle expert must pretend they’re a couple to promote Chase’s new dating app. But business becomes pleasure when desire reignites. Will past heartbreak and an ex with an agenda shatter their dreams of a real-life love affair?
Excerpt:
The corridor outside of the VIP lounge at, Infamous Nightclub, had high ceilings, pendant lights, and framed caricatures on the burgundy walls. Demi Harris spotted a portrait of the King of Pop and snapped a selfie in front of it. Using the image as her backdrop, she continued recording, chatting excitedly into her iPhone about the album release party. “This is my first time to Ibiza, but it won’t be my last. I love everything about the island—the people, the food, the energy and the atmosphere—and I’d stay here forever if I could.”
“In His Arms” played inside the corridor. The ballad was an irresistible hit, telling a love story about faith, hope and second chances. It was a brilliant song with powerful lyrics set to a sultry beat that Demi loved dancing to. “If you don’t have a copy of Love Is, get yourself one today. It’s Geneviève’s best album yet and you won’t be disappointed—”
Hearing angry voices in the corridor, Demi broke off speaking. Annoyed, she glanced over her shoulder to see what the commotion was. A tall, dark-skinned man in a khaki suit was standing between two women, imploring them to calm down. The females were speaking Russian and even though Demi didn’t understand what they were saying, she knew they were pissed. They were shouting, and pushing each other, and she feared they were going to come to blows.
“Ladies, you shouldn’t be fighting…”
At the sound of his voice, her skin tingled. Oh my! Demi thought, licking her crimson lips. He sounds dreamy! Hearing the stranger’s accent, she guessed he was from New York and studied his distinguished profile. He had black, cropped hair, broad shoulders and a toned, athletic physique that deserved to be on the cover of a men’s health magazine.
Curious about what was going to happen next, Demi ended her recording, and shoved her iPhone inside her tassel-style clutch purse. This is crazy! And highly entertaining, she thought, watching the women glare at each other. Damn, I wish I had buttered popcorn! Shouting insults, the women lunged at each other, swinging their hands wildly in the air, whacking the stranger in the head. His eyes darkened but he spoke in a calm, measured voice. “Please stop,” he said, his gaze darting between the bickering females. “I came here to party, not referee a fight.”
The elevator pinged and a bridal party group decked out in feather boas, cut-out dresses and fishnet stockings sashayed down the hall, laughing hysterically. Returning her gaze to the brawling duo, Demi realized the stranger had turned around and was now facing her.
Desire barreled through her body and her legs wobbled. Oh wow, he’s hot! No wonder they’re fighting over him! He was wearing designer eyeglasses, but he had dark, soulful eyes that a woman could get lost in—and she did. Demi had no words. For the first time in her life she was speechless, dumbfounded at the sight of this scrumptious hottie with the smooth, mocha-brown complexion, full lips and dimpled chin. He had a face that belonged on the big screen and a voice that inspired lustful thoughts.
“You have to pick,” insisted the heavyset blond.
The stranger gave Demi a pleading look and an idea popped into her mind. A smirk curled her lips. Tucking her purse under her forearm, she sashayed down the corridor as if it was her own personal runway, and it was. Her confidence was her greatest asset and Demi was going to use her fearless, take-no-prisoner’s attitude to rescue the ebony Adonis with the chiseled physique.
“Baby, there you are,” Demi cooed, raising her voice to be heard above the loud, bickering blondes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
The stranger coughed into his fist then cleared his throat. “I went to the men’s room.”
“Gosh, I can’t take you anywhere.” For effect, she playfully swatted his forearm. “The minute I turn around, you’re gone. Just like my terrier, Luna, but she’s a three-month-old puppy who needs to be trained. What’s your excuse?”
“Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Wearing an apologetic smile, the stranger spoke in a low voice that rippled across her flesh like a warm summer breeze. Their eyes met and Demi felt light-headed, as if she was going to faint, and willed herself to keep it together.
“I went to check out the rooftop bar, ran into some friendly tourists, and lost track of time.”
“H-h-honey?” the blondes stammered. “You have a girlfriend?”
“He sure does.” Demi linked arms with the stranger and rested her head on his shoulder. His biceps were firm, rippling with muscle, and his spicy cologne made her mouth wet with hunger. He was even sexier up close and touching him made her tingle from her ears to her toes. Staying in character, she inclined her head and narrowed her eyes. “Ladies, find someone else to fight over because this is my man, and I don’t like sharing, so bounce!”
The blondes didn’t move. They scowled and Demi glared back. Born and raised in one of Philadelphia’s worst neighborhoods, she’d learned how to defend herself as a child and she wasn’t afraid of anyone, especially not a pair of Barbie lookalikes in knock-off Gucci dresses.
“Dog,” muttered the blue-eyed blonde, “you said you were single.”
“He told me the same thing and he invited me to the VIP lounge.”
“Babe, let’s go to the bar,” the stranger proposed to Demi, gesturing to the elevator with a nod of his head. “I need another whiskey and I bet you could use a watermelon martini.”
Winking, Demi spoke in a sultry voice. “Among other things, Big Daddy.”
A devilish grin covered his mouth. Resting a hand on her lower back, the stranger hustled her down the hallway and into the waiting elevator. The doors closed, sealing them inside, and Demi burst out laughing. “Geez, if I’d known acting was that much fun, I would have taken drama in high school!” she joked, wearing a cheeky smile. “I’m Demi. What’s your name, handsome?”
Chase Crawford stood inside the private elevator with the American woman in the eye-catching dress, wondering if her crimson lips tasted as good they looked. Checking her out, he slid his hands into the pockets of his pants and leaned against the wall. The caramel-skinned beauty had it all. Blinding white teeth, curves like a winding road and sleek, toned legs he wished were clamped around his waist, pulling him deep inside her. Attractive women were a dime a dozen in Ibiza, but the woman stood out and not just because of her taut derrière. She had a magnetic personality and a smile that would haunt his dreams. Her doe-shaped eyes were mesmerizing, her lips tempting and her skin had a youthful, vibrant glow.
“Are you going to stand there lusting after me? Or are you going to tell me your name?”
Breaking free of his thoughts, Chase wore a sheepish smile. He’d been so busy admiring her physical assets that he’d forgotten to introduce himself. It wasn’t his fault. From the moment he’d left New York it had been one problem after another and he was exhausted. On the plane, his British seatmate had accidently spilled her champagne on him. At the Ibiza airport, he’d discovered the airline had lost his luggage. At the club, he’d suddenly had to navigate a fight between two women with bad tempers. Things could only get better, and if Demi turned out to be even half as cool as he thought she was, they were going to have a blast together. The thought heartened him. Made him momentarily forget about his problems.
“I’m Chase. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Demi.” It took supreme effort, but he stared at her face, even though he wanted to continue admiring her curvy body. He hadn’t had sex since he’d broken up with his college sweetheart three months earlier and being in close proximity to such a titillating woman gave Chase a hard-on inside his boxer briefs. He’d been playing the field since his relationship ended and Demi was exactly his type—fun, energetic and witty—and he was going to spend the rest of the night with her.
The corridor outside of the VIP lounge at, Infamous Nightclub, had high ceilings, pendant lights, and framed caricatures on the burgundy walls. Demi Harris spotted a portrait of the King of Pop and snapped a selfie in front of it. Using the image as her backdrop, she continued recording, chatting excitedly into her iPhone about the album release party. “This is my first time to Ibiza, but it won’t be my last. I love everything about the island—the people, the food, the energy and the atmosphere—and I’d stay here forever if I could.”
“In His Arms” played inside the corridor. The ballad was an irresistible hit, telling a love story about faith, hope and second chances. It was a brilliant song with powerful lyrics set to a sultry beat that Demi loved dancing to. “If you don’t have a copy of Love Is, get yourself one today. It’s Geneviève’s best album yet and you won’t be disappointed—”
Hearing angry voices in the corridor, Demi broke off speaking. Annoyed, she glanced over her shoulder to see what the commotion was. A tall, dark-skinned man in a khaki suit was standing between two women, imploring them to calm down. The females were speaking Russian and even though Demi didn’t understand what they were saying, she knew they were pissed. They were shouting, and pushing each other, and she feared they were going to come to blows.
“Ladies, you shouldn’t be fighting…”
At the sound of his voice, her skin tingled. Oh my! Demi thought, licking her crimson lips. He sounds dreamy! Hearing the stranger’s accent, she guessed he was from New York and studied his distinguished profile. He had black, cropped hair, broad shoulders and a toned, athletic physique that deserved to be on the cover of a men’s health magazine.
Curious about what was going to happen next, Demi ended her recording, and shoved her iPhone inside her tassel-style clutch purse. This is crazy! And highly entertaining, she thought, watching the women glare at each other. Damn, I wish I had buttered popcorn! Shouting insults, the women lunged at each other, swinging their hands wildly in the air, whacking the stranger in the head. His eyes darkened but he spoke in a calm, measured voice. “Please stop,” he said, his gaze darting between the bickering females. “I came here to party, not referee a fight.”
The elevator pinged and a bridal party group decked out in feather boas, cut-out dresses and fishnet stockings sashayed down the hall, laughing hysterically. Returning her gaze to the brawling duo, Demi realized the stranger had turned around and was now facing her.
Desire barreled through her body and her legs wobbled. Oh wow, he’s hot! No wonder they’re fighting over him! He was wearing designer eyeglasses, but he had dark, soulful eyes that a woman could get lost in—and she did. Demi had no words. For the first time in her life she was speechless, dumbfounded at the sight of this scrumptious hottie with the smooth, mocha-brown complexion, full lips and dimpled chin. He had a face that belonged on the big screen and a voice that inspired lustful thoughts.
“You have to pick,” insisted the heavyset blond.
The stranger gave Demi a pleading look and an idea popped into her mind. A smirk curled her lips. Tucking her purse under her forearm, she sashayed down the corridor as if it was her own personal runway, and it was. Her confidence was her greatest asset and Demi was going to use her fearless, take-no-prisoner’s attitude to rescue the ebony Adonis with the chiseled physique.
“Baby, there you are,” Demi cooed, raising her voice to be heard above the loud, bickering blondes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
The stranger coughed into his fist then cleared his throat. “I went to the men’s room.”
“Gosh, I can’t take you anywhere.” For effect, she playfully swatted his forearm. “The minute I turn around, you’re gone. Just like my terrier, Luna, but she’s a three-month-old puppy who needs to be trained. What’s your excuse?”
“Sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Wearing an apologetic smile, the stranger spoke in a low voice that rippled across her flesh like a warm summer breeze. Their eyes met and Demi felt light-headed, as if she was going to faint, and willed herself to keep it together.
“I went to check out the rooftop bar, ran into some friendly tourists, and lost track of time.”
“H-h-honey?” the blondes stammered. “You have a girlfriend?”
“He sure does.” Demi linked arms with the stranger and rested her head on his shoulder. His biceps were firm, rippling with muscle, and his spicy cologne made her mouth wet with hunger. He was even sexier up close and touching him made her tingle from her ears to her toes. Staying in character, she inclined her head and narrowed her eyes. “Ladies, find someone else to fight over because this is my man, and I don’t like sharing, so bounce!”
The blondes didn’t move. They scowled and Demi glared back. Born and raised in one of Philadelphia’s worst neighborhoods, she’d learned how to defend herself as a child and she wasn’t afraid of anyone, especially not a pair of Barbie lookalikes in knock-off Gucci dresses.
“Dog,” muttered the blue-eyed blonde, “you said you were single.”
“He told me the same thing and he invited me to the VIP lounge.”
“Babe, let’s go to the bar,” the stranger proposed to Demi, gesturing to the elevator with a nod of his head. “I need another whiskey and I bet you could use a watermelon martini.”
Winking, Demi spoke in a sultry voice. “Among other things, Big Daddy.”
A devilish grin covered his mouth. Resting a hand on her lower back, the stranger hustled her down the hallway and into the waiting elevator. The doors closed, sealing them inside, and Demi burst out laughing. “Geez, if I’d known acting was that much fun, I would have taken drama in high school!” she joked, wearing a cheeky smile. “I’m Demi. What’s your name, handsome?”
Chase Crawford stood inside the private elevator with the American woman in the eye-catching dress, wondering if her crimson lips tasted as good they looked. Checking her out, he slid his hands into the pockets of his pants and leaned against the wall. The caramel-skinned beauty had it all. Blinding white teeth, curves like a winding road and sleek, toned legs he wished were clamped around his waist, pulling him deep inside her. Attractive women were a dime a dozen in Ibiza, but the woman stood out and not just because of her taut derrière. She had a magnetic personality and a smile that would haunt his dreams. Her doe-shaped eyes were mesmerizing, her lips tempting and her skin had a youthful, vibrant glow.
“Are you going to stand there lusting after me? Or are you going to tell me your name?”
Breaking free of his thoughts, Chase wore a sheepish smile. He’d been so busy admiring her physical assets that he’d forgotten to introduce himself. It wasn’t his fault. From the moment he’d left New York it had been one problem after another and he was exhausted. On the plane, his British seatmate had accidently spilled her champagne on him. At the Ibiza airport, he’d discovered the airline had lost his luggage. At the club, he’d suddenly had to navigate a fight between two women with bad tempers. Things could only get better, and if Demi turned out to be even half as cool as he thought she was, they were going to have a blast together. The thought heartened him. Made him momentarily forget about his problems.
“I’m Chase. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Demi.” It took supreme effort, but he stared at her face, even though he wanted to continue admiring her curvy body. He hadn’t had sex since he’d broken up with his college sweetheart three months earlier and being in close proximity to such a titillating woman gave Chase a hard-on inside his boxer briefs. He’d been playing the field since his relationship ended and Demi was exactly his type—fun, energetic and witty—and he was going to spend the rest of the night with her.