Gringa – A Love Story (Complete Series books 1-4) by Eve Rabi @EveRabi1

A man named Norman, seated next to me, leans over and says, ‘Señorita gringa want Whisky?

‘Yes please, Norman.’

Norman pours the whisky and places the glass in front of me.

‘Thank you Norman,’ I say, bypassing the glass and reaching for the bottle.

Norman’s eyes grow huge when he sees me taking giant swigs from the bottle.

It’s awful. I hate whisky. Tastes like gasoline to me.

‘Damn!’ I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. ‘This sure is mighty fine whisky, Norman.’

‘Eh, Señorita gringa, my name …’

‘Lemme pour you one, Norman.’ I top his glass to the brim and hand it to him. ‘Knock yourself out,’ I chuckle.

Diablo’s not smiling.

Yeah, I’m supposed to be nice to him now that the FBI is involved. Well, fuck the FBI and Fuck him.

As lunch progresses, I’m feeling a little more relaxed now. Warm in my toes and even a little confident. Well, they’re eating lunch and I’m drinking mine – whisky, Tequila and some other shit on the table.

After a few more swigs from the bottles, I cross my arms over my head and whistle Hit me Baby One More Time by Brittany bitch. Totally out of tune, but hey, who gives a fuck right now.

Diablo’s hairy face reveals little, but somehow I don’t think he’s comfortable with my drinking. Hell, I’m not comfortable with my drinking, but screw him.

Link to Gringa:

http://www.amazon.com/Gringa-Modern-day-Love-Story-ebook/dp/B005CQBCJA\

BOOK BLURB:

I was twenty-one, a sassy college student who took crap from no one. While holidaying in Mexico, I was accosted by The Devil of Mexico called Diablo and shot, because the s.o.b. mistook me for a spy.
I survived, only to encounter him again months later. How’s that for luck?
Furious and sick of all that I’d been through because of him, I slapped him, told him to go to hell and braced myself for the bullet. He could shoot me – I no longer cared.
But, to my surprise, he became fascinated with me and blackmailed me into becoming his woman. He’d slay the entire village that sheltered me, if I rejected his proposal.
He was Kong, hairy, tattooed from fingertips to face, with scary ass piercings, blood-shot snake eyes, a ruthless killer and above all, he was my murderer – how could anyone expect me to say yes?
To save the village I had to.
He took me by force, terrorized me into submission and made me his. To make matters worse, I had to put up with his ruthless, backstabbing family who hated me and wanted to kill me.
I despised the bastard and I told him that. Spark flew. Fists too.
But, the more I rejected Diablo, the more he wanted me.
At times he wanted to kill me because of my insolence, but other times he just wanted me to love him.
I was his Gringa and in an attempt to get my love, he began to change for me. Drastic changes that made me laugh at him at first, then made me curious.
As the days went by, I found myself drawn to him and I began seeing him differently. When I found out about his past, everything changed.

Where to find Eve Rabi online

Website: http://everabi.wordpress.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/eve.rabi

Blog: http://everabi.wordpress.com/

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/everabiauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/EveRabi1

LOVE STORIES BY EVE RABI

Deception – A Palace Full of Liars – Book 1

Deception – A Palace Full of Liars – Book 2

Burn’s World – Book 1

Burn’s World – Book 2

Burn’s World – Book 3

Burn’s World – Book 4

CAPTURED – My Sworn Enemy, My Secret Lover – Book 1

CAPTURED – My Sworn Enemy, My Secret Lover – Book 2

Gringa – A Love Story Book 1

Gringa – A Love Story Book 2

Gringa – A Love Story Book 3

Gringa – A Love Story Book 4

THE CHEAT – A Tale of Lies and Infidelity – Book 1

THE CHEAT – A Tale of Lies and Infidelity – Book 2

You Will Pay – For Leaving Me (This book is free to Eve Rabi Fans)

Obsessed with me –Book 1

Obsessed with me –Book 2

Betrayed – He’d get his Girl at Any Cost

My Brother, My Rival (Book 1)

My Brother, My Rival (Book 2)

Matchplay Series (Three Book Boxed Set) by Dakota Madison @shortontimebook #Romance

From Fair Play

Excerpt

Evan looks at me with so much lust and desire in his eyes, I feel like he’s been starving and I’m a steak dinner. It’s so out of character for Evan to be hungry for anyone that it takes me off guard. Evan usually satiates his carnal desires as quickly as they come. He generally has no problem finding a vast array of willing partners. Women flock to Evan like little birds on a newly filled bird feeder. And he never has any trouble replenishing the feeder to satisfy every little bird he manages to attract. The only time I’ve ever seen him close the feeder down is when a little bird gets too attached. Evan doesn’t do attachments. The feeder is open for business as long as you know you’ve got to go right after you’ve been fed.

When Evan grabs my ass and pulls me even closer, I can feel his ample erection under his dress pants as it presses against my body. He leans his head close to my ear and nips on my earlobe, which sends electricity shooting through my body. I’ve told him about a few of my most sensitive spots, my earlobes being one of them, but I’m a little surprised he remembers. Or it could just be part of his standard repertoire with all of the little birds he satisfies on a regular basis.

“You’re mine tonight,” he whispers and his words are like little alarm bells going off in my ear.

He’s never staked claim on me, even for a night. The words both completely turn me on and totally terrify me. I’m not sure whether to take him back to my hotel room and fuck him all night or run in the other direction. I decide to do what I do best and mess a little with his mind instead.

“I saw the way you were looking at Rainy,” I say as I look up into his stunning green eyes.

The moment I say Rainy, I can see a slight flicker of something on his face. But whatever the reaction is, it’s gone just as quickly. Like the good politician I know he’s destined to be, he hides whatever he’s feeling with a well-rehearsed mask of pure charisma and charm.

“Right now, I’m looking at you and that’s all that matters,” he replies seductively.

It’s been two months since I’ve seen Evan. We were together for Spring Break. I’m not sure what happened in those two months but somehow, this boy has managed to completely perfect the Mr. Smooth persona that he’s been practicing since he was sixteen, the first time we fucked each other.

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Genre – New Adult Romance

Rating – R

More details about the author and the book

Connect with  Dakota Madison on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://12novels12months.tumblr.com/

Jack Canon’s American Destiny (Excerpt) by Greg Sandora @gregsandora

The only thing that gave me a worse vibe than these two was Gene’s taste in decorating. The ceilings were about 30 feet high and three walls held books up to about the first 15 feet, after which was a very large landing around three quarters of the room. The wall opposite the door was made up of five floor-to-ceiling arched windows. The bottom six feet of each had colonial muttons and were partially opened, allowing the outside winter cold to fight with the heat in the room. On the landings above the bookshelves were housed various artifacts of torture.

Gene saw me noticing, “These are from the collection of King Henry,” he boasted.

There were guillotines and stretching racks and other devices all made of aged wood and black iron. Some had big weathered chain links hanging from them and leather straps. There were black iron turning wheels, the sight was gruesome.

Gene motioned to a large axe with a semicircular blade and an unusually long, thick handle.

“This is my prized piece of the entire collection – the axe used to behead Katherine, Henry’s youngest bride.” Mounted next to the axe, on a polished cherry post, was a scrap of parchment. Next to it, carved in gold lettering over black onyx, was inscribed an onlooker. The parchment had faded to an almost illegible degree and was kept behind glass.

Gene said, “The onlooker’s account is sealed in helium, just like the Declaration of Independence, to preserve it. I’ve had it authenticated by historians, expert in the period.” The words were transferred onto the stone.

The eerie account told of the misty morning when the helpless fair-haired teenager, a mere girl, forced to lay under the weight of the wealth of England, was led to her death.

I read the inscribed: Queen Katherine emerged just before nine in the morning. A rain the night before had turned the courtyard muddy to our ankles. The streets containing the foul smell of chicken scratch and horse urine slurried into the mix. Gawkers’ pushed for position and strained to see the delicate fawn-like Katherine as she walked barefoot, clothed only in a very plain and simple linen dress. The exposed skin of her upper chest was so pale I could see the ghostly blue vein patchwork just beneath. The last time I had seen the young queen she was amazing, the most beautiful woman in all England. Fancily dressed and bright, riding in an open coach smiling sweetly waving to her subjects, I fancied the thought our eyes might have met for a second.

“Spill her blood!” A spectator called out. I thought, what cowards this mob, content to stand by and watch. Greedily clinging to their own lives–any one of which could be wrenched from him in a second.

This bitter gray morning, the little Queen made her way slowly up to the old worn wooden steps, pausing briefly, turning sad doe eyes back to the crowd. A pitiful thin waif of a child so helpless and demure, Katherine continued up the stairs carefully gripping the railing as if it were her mothers hand, that somehow she might be swept away from all this.

Once upon the platform, facing the crowd full on, her tiny limbs were exposed and pale, a simple dress hanging over her nearly shapeless frame. She wore no jewelry. Her one remaining vanity, long hair, perfectly combed. The henchman placed her firmly against the block and with a blank and helpless stare Katherine moved her beautiful locks to one side exposing her slender neck.

I waited for her to jump to her feet and scream out in defiance, “What have I done that your precious King isn’t guilty of?”

Laying her head sideways on the block, she awaited her fate in silence.

The black-hooded killer appeared to us like a giant standing over her. A moment before, even the handle of the axe and the blade had been taller than the living little queen. He drew back.

I heard the neck cracking then a thud as the girl’s head crashed to the platform floor. Steam rose from the blood pouring in a warm pool from the lifeless body slumped behind the block.

Gene Hobbs had acquired the only known account of the gruesome event; one can imagine that onlookers must have rushed to write on whatever they could find to recount the scene. The metaphor of the rich over the poor and the machinery of torture in the room made me shudder. Reading the narrative, I felt sickened by the horror of the day, for lost innocence and the tyranny of the time. What a waste of a beautiful young life; what a disgrace for England.

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre – Political Thriller

Rating – PG

More details about the author

Connect with Greg Sandora on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.gregsandora.com/

Barbed-Wire Butterflies by Jessica Kristie (Excerpt)

Lifeless Metal - CHAPTER 1 - A New Truth

Loud noises banging from the trunk didn’t even make the two men flinch. It was an all too familiar sound. They traveled down a long dirt road toward what seemed, to the untrained eye, to be an abandoned warehouse. The town car didn’t fit the road traveled, but it had been there many times before.

The thumping had finally subsided as they pulled near the desolate building. Quickly, they passed through the guarded entrance and could see another man waiting in his dark green clothing, waving them forward. The large wall receded up, opening into what looked to be an airport hangar. Several small planes, cars, and other equipment were parked inside. The two men got out of their vehicle and walked to the back of the car. The taller man turned to his partner and grinned while he unlocked the trunk.

Inside lay a thirteen-year-old girl, still passed out from the drugs she had been given steadily over the last few days. Her body was twisted from being knocked around during the three-hour trip from the hotel to the warehouse.

“Another one,” the shorter man said with a half-hearted laugh.

“The second one this month; I wonder what’s up,” the shorter one responded.

“It ain’t our business to ask. Let’s just get her in here and get out. I want to get home before four a.m. this time.”

“You take the feet and let’s get a move on.”

They each did their part and carried the young girl to the door where a gurney and two other men were waiting. They placed her on the rolling bed and headed back to their vehicle. It was as easy as that, and they were done. The town car drove off into the night, not to return until another package was to be delivered.

In her unknown destination and an hour after delivery, Elani Benjamin woke up. With confused, red-rimmed eyes and blurry vision, she could make out a tall woman hovering over her. The woman had long red hair and a much-too-wrinkled face to be in her forties. She was dabbing Elani’s forehead with a cold, wet wash cloth knowing full well the young girl would protest soon.

“Where . . .” Elani tried to make sense of her words and surroundings, her head still foggy from the last few days. She darted up from the gurney and scanned the room for something, anything familiar. A nauseous feeling tugged at the lining of her stomach.

Everything was concrete, or white painted over concrete. The room smelled sterile but unclean at the same time. Confused about how she got there, she closed her eyes and tried to remember. The last thing that came to her was stopping at a Quik Stop for something before heading home.

“Elani, I’m Jolene. I need you to keep calm while I explain where you are. Please try and control yourself so you don’t upset the other girls when I put you in your new room.” Jolene paused for a response. “Do you hear me, girl?”

“How do you know my name?” Elani pleaded to Jolene with surprise and a growing concern.

“We know everyone we bring here to The Hub. It’s our job to know who we’re dealing with.”

“Where’s my mom? Does my dad know I’m here?”

“Look, girl. I’m just going to tell you like it is. This is your new home. What you will have is a bed, food, and work. It’s not much, but that’s what it is. Now change into this so I can bring you to your new room.” Jolene threw a blue sweat suit at Elani that was stenciled with an L, along with some old, worn sneakers, and then lifted her hands in a quick attempt to get her going. Elani slowly pulled the clothes toward her and reluctantly changed.

“Here, put your clothes in this. You won’t be needing them anymore. We all just wear the same thing,” Jolene said as she held a plastic bag in front of her.

“I want to go home,” Elani said, panic rising in her voice.

“That’s what you say now, but things will change,” Jolene quickly responded, in hopes to diffuse the pending breakdown. “You’re a big girl, you can do this.”

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t even know what this is,” Elani snapped with tears forming in her big blue eyes. She used her sleeve to rub the salty drops from her face and nervously pushed her dark hair behind her ear.

“Girl, we gotta get a move on. We don’t have time for this. The quicker you realize what is happening here, the easier it gets. I’ve been here for twenty-two years and I ain’t got no qualms about that.”

“What?” Elani was shaking. “I can’t go home, ever? What about my mom and my brother? My brother needs me. I need to get back home.”

“Your brother is fine. Your mom is fine. They will learn to get on without you. Now get dressed and let’s be going.” Jolene was losing her patience and it was obvious she had been through this routine too many times before.

Elani’s heart plummeted in her chest as the lack of control sunk in. She retreated to silence, feeling she might pass out from terror. She had no clue what these people wanted or what new future was being laid out without her permission. It all felt too unreal to comprehend.

She finished changing her clothes and surrendered her old life in a small plastic bag to Jolene. Jolene led her through several dimly-lit corridors with four doors on each side. Each hallway reminded Elani of pictures she had seen on television of the rooms for inmates of a mental-health facility. Small windows, about three inches wide, served as the room’s only peek outside of the personal cells. Elani’s mind was racing. Was this a prison? Had she done something to get put in juvenile hall? She knew of several kids in her neighborhood who had been to juvie, but from what she remembered, the kids went to court first.

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Genre – Literary Fiction

Rating – PG

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Jessica Kristie on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://jessicakristie.com/

Excerpt: The Titan Drowns by Nhys Glover

 Chapter Three

Max

12 March 1912, London ENGLAND

Maxwell Ingham stared out of his office window at busy Fleet Street below. He loved the cacophony of noise that modern man in his industry could create – the mechanical hum of the automobiles, as they rumbled down the street honking their horns at horse and wagons that might delay or block their passage. Many a flighty horse took exception to this noise and would rear and buck in complaint. People of all classes hurried along the pathways and crossed the thoroughfares at random, often inadvertently walking in front of the speeding vehicles. Yelling and shaking fists would accompany those near misses. It was organised chaos, and he loved it.

His eye was drawn from the general to the specific, as he caught a glimpse of a young woman dressed fashionably in a navy skirt and jacket with a white blouse adorned with a large, floppy bow at its high neckline. A hat, a monstrous navy affair that was utterly impractical for the busy streets, shielded her face. However, when she paused to look up at the second and third stories of the buildings on his side of the road, he gained a much better impression of her appearance.

Her face was pale, milky white with huge eyes and small, upturned nose. Red lips were bowed in a delighted smile as her elegant, gloved hands crossed over heart, as if to keep the organ from jumping out of her chest. She looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties, but there was an air of child-like enthusiasm that belied that age. What little hair was visible beneath the hat was black and wavy, framing her oval face and softening the sharp lines of the outrageous creation on her head.

For the full time he stared at her, he couldn’t seem to draw breath. It wasn’t until she dropped her head, hurried across the road, dodging horse-drawn and horseless carriages alike, and disappeared somewhere beneath him that he felt his breathing return to normal.

‘Maxwell, Darling, what do you think?’ A strident voice jarred him from his strange reaction and drew his eye. Coming across the room toward him was his wife, Agnes, dressed in a sunshine yellow day-dress that quite blinded him with its brightness. It was a wrap-around affair, somewhat oriental in design, with a wide, darkly patterned border that crossed over her bird-like figure.

‘About what, my dear?’ he inquired, knowing exactly what, but wanting to give himself a moment to come up with a suitably diplomatic comment.

‘Why, my dress, silly. Do you like it? My couturier tells me it is the latest thing from the continent, and I plan to wear it to the Royal International Horticultural Exhibition in May. I am taking a risk that no one of any influence will see me in it today. Nevertheless, I just had to show you immediately.’

The small woman pivoted to display her gown and large floral hat. Her mouse-like features broke into a winsome smile.

‘You will turn many an eye, my dear. The flowers will pale into insignificance beside you.’ He spoke the truth, as was his way, but he disguised his thoughts within the effusion of his words, as only a man of the law could do. In truth, she looked hideous, but he had learned early on in their relationship that Agnes did not want to hear the truth. She wanted to mould it to suit herself, and that was what he allowed her to do with his words now.

She blushed coquettishly and giggled. ‘Oh Maxwell, I knew you would love it. Matilda Robson was not so complimentary. But then she is not up with the latest haute de couture, so I dismissed her opinion immediately. You, on the other hand, dear husband, are a man of taste and refinement. I knew you would see its value.’

‘My tastes run to more simplistic and conservative designs, but I do value the unconventional when it is aesthetically pleasing to the eye.’

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Genre – Romance

Rating – Between PG13 and R (sensual but not erotic)

More details about the author & the book

Connect with Nhys Glover on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://nhysglover.com/

Tempted: The Dark Hart Chronicles (Book 1, Excerpt) by Alexandra Anthony

Siobhan attempted to clap with her champagne flute in one hand.  She then pretended to wipe a tear away with her finger.  "Mama's so proud.  You're growing up."

Huffing, I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling.  "It's not happening, Von.  Sorry."

"He's a saint by Hollywood standards and he's fucking beautiful.  Can you imagine that body naked? I mean, look at the size of his..."

I cut her off before she could go any further.  "Yeah, yeah.  He's gorgeous.  And he doesn't date."

"Who said anything about dating? I'm talking about a much more casual type of encounter." Siobhan's eyebrows waggled suggestively.  "He's still staring and I can tell he is most definitely interested.  And what a coincidence - I see one of my contacts.  I gotta get the scoop.  I’ll be right back.  Make me proud!"

She sashayed across the room in a silver streak, leaving me alone to ogle Nick Hart over my cheap glass of champagne in my overpriced cocktail dress.

He hadn't moved from his spot on the wall.  I watched curiously as he took an occasional swallow from a whiskey glass, his dark eyes surveying the room with as much enthusiasm as I had.  His body language and look of disgust on his face gave it away.  I liked him better already.

He caught me staring, his lips curling back to reveal a mischievous smile and a set of deep dimples.  Even from across the room, I could see the bright gleam of his white teeth against the pale luminance of his skin.

With a pounding heart, I quickly looked away.  I focused intently on the floor before peeking up to see his eyes still piercing through me, his cell phone at his ear.  My fingers combed through my blond hair and I nervously tapped the side of my glass with a fingernail as I waited for Siobhan to return.

A few people I knew passed by and we exchanged casual hellos.  When I glanced back to where Nick had been standing, he was gone.  I couldn't help but be a little disappointed.  I'd enjoyed our brief flirtation, even if it had been mostly one-sided.

It was that exact moment Siobhan rejoined me.  She clicked her tongue in mock disapproval as she picked up on my obvious disappointment.  "You missed your chance.  You could have been the only woman in Hollywood to fuc-"

"I got it," I admonished her with a hiss.  "Are you ready to go?"

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Genre – Erotica

Rating – R

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Website http://www.alexandra-anthony.com/

Style, Chic, Trendy, Cheap by Elle Campbell (Excerpt)

Trousers

· Do’s- High Waisted Women: Palazzo Pants (Helps avoid the “tent effect”), Low Waisted Women; Tapered Leg Pants & Capri Pants, Tall Women: Leggings, Rider Pants and Jodhpur

· Don’ts- Thin Women: Avoid Adherent Black Models and Tight at the Bottom Pants (This is to Avoid “breadstick” effect.

Skirts

The thin shape of a rectangle shaped women allows every kind of skirt. Mini Skirts are great for both the shorter and the taller women.

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Genre – NonFiction / Beauty & Fashion

Rating – PG

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Website http://truefashiontrends.com/

Secret Words (Secret Dreams Book 1) by Miranda P. Charles

"Aahh," she cried softly as she put weight on her left foot.

"Your ankle?" her knight asked.

"Yes, I must have sprained it."  Her eyes watered from the pain and the predicament she found herself in.  She prayed her ankle wasn't too bad.  Her sister's wedding was next week and she didn't want to be a limping bridesmaid on the day.

"Where do you need to go?" he asked.

"To the sink first.  I need to wash my hands again."

Her heart raced as a muscular arm went around her waist as he helped her hobble to the washbasin.

"Why don't I help you walk back to wherever you need to be?" he offered.  "You probably shouldn't be putting much weight on that foot."

"How do I know you're not dangerous?" she asked with a smile that conveyed she was joking.  She felt safe with him already.  But was that being too naive?

He laughed out loud.  "How about I introduce myself first?  My name's Kane and I work for Krand Architects.  I'm definitely not an axe murderer."

"Where's your proof?" she asked with a mock frown.

He took his wallet from his back pocket and fished out a business card.  "Here.  See?  Ar-chi-tect," he said with exaggerated enunciation as he pointed to the title 'Director and Head Architect'.

She chuckled at his playfulness and snatched the card from him.  "Glad to meet you, Kane … Summers?  Are you related to Faye Summers?"

"Yes," Kane replied in surprise.  "I'm her oldest brother."

Oh.  She checked him out with new eyes.  She could now see the resemblance between him and Faye - one of her sister's best friends - especially their blue eyes and the fact that they were both extremely good-looking.

"And you are …?" Kane prodded.

"Oh, I'm Jasmine Allen."

He lifted his eyebrows.  "You're Jessa's younger sister?"

"Yes."

He grinned at her.  "Well, then, now you know for sure I'm not an axe murderer.  You live in Melbourne, right?  When did you arrive?"

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Genre - Contemporary Romance

Rating – R

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Connect with Miranda P. Charles on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://mirandapcharles.com/

Poison Pill by MA Granovsky

Chapter 2
October 14-15

“Why are you going to Istanbul?” asked Benedict once they boarded and he switched his seat with Olga’s neighbor.

Olga gave him a synopsis of what she’d be doing—spending hours at a client’s plant on the outskirts of Istanbul, interviewing people about where their physical and electronic documents were stored, and roughly sorting through hundreds of thousands of documents to see which ones needed to be sent back to New York for the pharmaceutical patent litigation in which their client was now embroiled.

“Sounds perfectly dreadful,” Benedict said when she concluded.

“It is that.” Olga yawned. “Sorry, need sleep. I’ve done these trips before, and if it weren’t for the pilot banking the plane to show us the pyramids on my last trip, I’d never have known that I was in Egypt. It’s airport, generic luxury business hotel, stuffy internal storage room with mountains of paper. And repeat.”

“How’d you become specialized in patent litigation?”

“I was a molecular biologist before going to law school and therefore I’m a valuable commodity in the legal world. Patent litigation is very lucrative, and it requires a scientific background.”

“My brother was a scientist, too.” Benedict looked out the window, but Olga saw in his reflection his narrowed eyes and creased brow.

“What kind of scientist?” she asked.

“He was a physician specializing in obesity. He then got his doctorate in biomedical science doing research into molecular pathways of brown fat cells. Mean anything to you?”

Olga nodded and tried to suppress another yawn. “It certainly does.” She hoped the conversation wasn’t going to veer toward the seriously scientific because her brain was rapidly shutting down and she was making heroic efforts just to stay awake out of politeness.

“You really do look done in,” Benedict said, “but when you’re in better shape, could I ask for your professional opinion on something?” He seemed to regret his request right after stating it. “I’m sorry. You must get this all the time and it’s probably awfully irritating.”

“Not at all.” Olga shook her head emphatically. “I like it when people think of me as an expert.”

“Well, you are one.”

“Oh, right. I’m not just a document mule.”

***

Two hours from landing, Olga woke up to the smell of dark coffee and freshly baked pastries. Breakfast was being served.

“I hope you’ll be able to stay for a few days after your work is done. It would be a pity to be in Istanbul, especially in the early fall, without having a chance to explore it,” said Benedict when he noticed that Olga had opened her eyes. She was still groggy. Benedict, on the other hand, appeared to be a morning person, and continued talking until Olga raised her hand to stop him.

“I can’t process information without coffee. So unless you want to repeat everything you just said, let me have the first cup, then we can converse.”

Benedict chuckled. “This is fantastic. Our relationship is progressing by leaps and bounds. We’ve already slept together and are now finding out about each other’s morning personalities.”

Olga smiled and sipped her coffee before replying. “All potential relationships should start on intercontinental flights.”

“If you do swing it so that you have free time, I’ll be happy to play tour guide.” Benedict said.

“Thank you. I’ll definitely take you up on the offer if I can.” As the coffee kicked in, a vague memory formed in Olga’s mind. “Did I dream it or did you want to ask me about something to do with patent law?”

Benedict shrugged. “It’ll keep. We’ll talk about it later.”

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Genre – Legal Thriller

Rating – PG

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