Book Title: That One Night (That One Series: Book One)
Author: Josie Wright
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 26, 2015
Hosted by: Book Enthusiast Promotions
I have always had a thing for my brother’s best friend, Ben. When I found him on my parents’ couch, drowning his sorrows in a whiskey bottle, my attempts to comfort him quickly turned into a night of raw and intense passion.
My foolish heart hoped he might feel the same way I do.
But Ben wasn’t there to stay and I woke up the next morning alone with a broken heart.
I attempted to forget the guy with a smile to die for and a touch that sets me on fire.
I thought I was over him.
I thought he was gone forever.
Until, eighteen months later Ben returns and learns my secret. Now, he is hell-bent on winning me back.
He plays dirty. And he won’t stop until he gets what he wants—me.
But he has secrets of his own.
Secrets that could destroy everything we might have and everything we are.
We more or less jog back to the house, talking a lot of non-sense and laughing. I blame it on the cold or the sudden influx of fresh air to our brains. When the house comes into sight, he nudges my shoulder.
“Whoever gets to the house first, gets a wish?”
“What, do I look like a genie?”
“No, but I can rub you places if you want.” He smirks at me.
I bump into him, making him step off the paved road and fight for balance, before I sprint ahead like a bat out of hell and yell behind me. “Dream on. I’ll so win. And then you’ll be my bitch.” I’m running so fast I can actually feel my lungs burn. I suppose running after a toddler isn’t exactly the same as working out. And yoga doesn’t seem to have done much for my stamina. I feel like I’m going to collapse, but I’m not willing to give up. I have about hundred feet left to run when I can hear his footsteps behind me.
When he passes me, he doesn’t seem to be out of breath at all.
“Who’s going to be whose bitch, huh? Is that all you got Gilbert?”
Such a cocky fucker. He overtakes me and gets to the house before me, casually leaning against the porch while I trot over there feeling like death warmed over. It’s not fair. He looks absolutely breathtaking, the way he has his arms crossed over his chest, his feet are crossed at his ankles while his body is leaning against the bars of the porch railing. His head is tilted slightly back, nearly reaching the handrail. He has a shit-eating grin on his face.
I give him a death glare and am about to walk past him up the stairs onto the porch, when he grabs my arm and yanks me toward him. He turns me so my back is now against the porch and cages me in with each hand grabbing one of the bars on either side of my head. Suddenly, breathing becomes even more difficult.
“What about my wish? You won’t go back on your word, will you, Frankie?”
I can only shake my head. You know, like intelligent people do. Forming coherent words and phrases...pfft, so over it.
“Good,” is all he says before he lowers his head, coming closer and closer. I feel like I’m going to faint. I know I should stop this. I know it isn’t the best idea. I know it could break my heart, again. Chances are it will. And if it breaks this time, if he breaks it this time, there won’t be a coming back from it. Knowing all of this, I still can’t manage to tell my heart to stop doing the little somersaults and I can’t tell those damn butterflies in my stomach to chill the fuck out. Instead, I lick my lips in anticipation. When his lips eventually connect to mine, I feel like my lungs are finally able to fill with air. It feels as if I’ve been holding my breath forever—not just the last minute, but the past eighteen months. His lips are soft, yet demanding against mine and his tongue is insisting on getting access. I part my lips slowly, not expecting my body betraying me. When his tongue connects with mine, a quiet whimper sneaks past my lips—but not quiet enough. Ben hears it and it seems to spur him on. He presses his body closer to mine, his tongue engaging mine in a dirty little tango. We’re lost in the moment, in the sensation of tasting each other. When the front door opens, we both startle and quickly step away from each other—like two teenagers nearly caught by their parents. He seems to be able to get his bearings quicker than I do, sidestepping me and walking up the stairs.
Josie Wright has always been a bookworm, spending every free moment with her nose buried in a book. While others were out partying, she spent her evenings with Heathcliff, Sydney Carton or Snape. Romance, fantasy, thrillers - you name it, she read it.
Thanks to the Kindle, she finally arrived in the 21St century and discovered the Indie literature world. Josie has been lost to it ever since. With her love for the written word and her promiscuous feelings for countless book boyfriends, the next logical step was to start writing. The voices in her head and her imaginary friends wanted out to play and so she wrote her debut novel "That One Night", that's to be released early summer 2015. And the good news is, there are more voices and imaginary friend where Ben and Frankie came from.
Josie is a financial expert by day and a writing junkie by night. The rest of the time she's a bit of a hippie, a bit of a goth and many things in between. Josie loves to spend time with her husband when she can tear herself away from her book boyfriends. She loves video games, movies, good food and even better music. She's addicted to chips, long baths and shoes. Oh, and books of course. Definitely books.
Secrets that could destroy everything we might have and everything we are.
We more or less jog back to the house, talking a lot of non-sense and laughing. I blame it on the cold or the sudden influx of fresh air to our brains. When the house comes into sight, he nudges my shoulder.
“Whoever gets to the house first, gets a wish?”
“What, do I look like a genie?”
“No, but I can rub you places if you want.” He smirks at me.
I bump into him, making him step off the paved road and fight for balance, before I sprint ahead like a bat out of hell and yell behind me. “Dream on. I’ll so win. And then you’ll be my bitch.” I’m running so fast I can actually feel my lungs burn. I suppose running after a toddler isn’t exactly the same as working out. And yoga doesn’t seem to have done much for my stamina. I feel like I’m going to collapse, but I’m not willing to give up. I have about hundred feet left to run when I can hear his footsteps behind me.
When he passes me, he doesn’t seem to be out of breath at all.
“Who’s going to be whose bitch, huh? Is that all you got Gilbert?”
Such a cocky fucker. He overtakes me and gets to the house before me, casually leaning against the porch while I trot over there feeling like death warmed over. It’s not fair. He looks absolutely breathtaking, the way he has his arms crossed over his chest, his feet are crossed at his ankles while his body is leaning against the bars of the porch railing. His head is tilted slightly back, nearly reaching the handrail. He has a shit-eating grin on his face.
I give him a death glare and am about to walk past him up the stairs onto the porch, when he grabs my arm and yanks me toward him. He turns me so my back is now against the porch and cages me in with each hand grabbing one of the bars on either side of my head. Suddenly, breathing becomes even more difficult.
“What about my wish? You won’t go back on your word, will you, Frankie?”
I can only shake my head. You know, like intelligent people do. Forming coherent words and phrases...pfft, so over it.
“Good,” is all he says before he lowers his head, coming closer and closer. I feel like I’m going to faint. I know I should stop this. I know it isn’t the best idea. I know it could break my heart, again. Chances are it will. And if it breaks this time, if he breaks it this time, there won’t be a coming back from it. Knowing all of this, I still can’t manage to tell my heart to stop doing the little somersaults and I can’t tell those damn butterflies in my stomach to chill the fuck out. Instead, I lick my lips in anticipation. When his lips eventually connect to mine, I feel like my lungs are finally able to fill with air. It feels as if I’ve been holding my breath forever—not just the last minute, but the past eighteen months. His lips are soft, yet demanding against mine and his tongue is insisting on getting access. I part my lips slowly, not expecting my body betraying me. When his tongue connects with mine, a quiet whimper sneaks past my lips—but not quiet enough. Ben hears it and it seems to spur him on. He presses his body closer to mine, his tongue engaging mine in a dirty little tango. We’re lost in the moment, in the sensation of tasting each other. When the front door opens, we both startle and quickly step away from each other—like two teenagers nearly caught by their parents. He seems to be able to get his bearings quicker than I do, sidestepping me and walking up the stairs.
Josie Wright has always been a bookworm, spending every free moment with her nose buried in a book. While others were out partying, she spent her evenings with Heathcliff, Sydney Carton or Snape. Romance, fantasy, thrillers - you name it, she read it.
Thanks to the Kindle, she finally arrived in the 21St century and discovered the Indie literature world. Josie has been lost to it ever since. With her love for the written word and her promiscuous feelings for countless book boyfriends, the next logical step was to start writing. The voices in her head and her imaginary friends wanted out to play and so she wrote her debut novel "That One Night", that's to be released early summer 2015. And the good news is, there are more voices and imaginary friend where Ben and Frankie came from.
Josie is a financial expert by day and a writing junkie by night. The rest of the time she's a bit of a hippie, a bit of a goth and many things in between. Josie loves to spend time with her husband when she can tear herself away from her book boyfriends. She loves video games, movies, good food and even better music. She's addicted to chips, long baths and shoes. Oh, and books of course. Definitely books.
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