Plus OneBy: Aleatha Romig
Over a year ago my friend Georgia Cates and I decided to start an adventure: writing stories that were outside of our brand. Our endeavor was successful on many counts. It opened a world of possibilities and let us shake off the chains of expectation. Though we each wrote different titles, we ventured into that new world under one name.
While that pen name no longer exists, it helped us to expand our horizons and try new things.
The story you’re about to read started as a short and sexy, predictable novella written by me as Jade Sinner and entitled DUNCAN: The Deal. My reviews were good and I learned that while writing dark twists and turns, I could also be funny and light.
If any part of this story seems familiar, it could be because you read the 12K-word short novella. That was just the beginning.
PLUS ONE is more! It is now a full-length, contemporary romantic-comedy novel.
I hope it makes you swoon, laugh, and finish the last page with a smile.
I know that I did all of that while writing.
Thank you for allowing me to shed the other name and embrace this side of Aleatha. Thank you for giving Leatha, the lighter side of Aleatha, a chance!
I hope you enjoy PLUS ONE!
A fun, sexy, new stand-alone from New York Times bestselling author Aleatha Romig.
He’s sexy and confident, the kind of man every woman notices. You know, the one with the to-die-for body and panty-melting smirk. And then there’s the way his designer suits drape over his broad shoulders and big… well, we’ve all heard the rumors, the ones that say he’s up for any challenge.
But I can’t see him that way. He’s technically my boss—one of the owners of the company where I work—and definitely not in my league. Men like him don’t notice women like me, and they don’t date them.
And I don’t date men like him.
Until that one time that I catch him in a compromising position when I’m also in need of a last-minute date for a wedding… and then it’s not real. It’s blackmail.
For one weekend, he’s my plus-one.
Beautiful and unobtainable.
From the moment she walked into my office with those stunning blue eyes and crazy, sensual curves, she’s been on my mind. Three years and never once has she acted interested in me. Usually, I flash a million-dollar smile and women fall to their knees, some literally.
Then on the occasion that I agree to let another woman do that—fall to her knees—guess who happens to catch us?
It may not be the most conventional way to get on her radar, but I didn’t get this far in business without knowing when to seize an opportunity. If this sexy, little firecracker with perfectly kissable lips thinks she can blackmail me into attending her cousin’s wedding, I’m going to jump at the chance to be her plus-one.
You love her darker side. Now it’s time to meet Leatha, the lighter side of Aleatha, as she trades her renowned twists and turns for laughs and love with this sexy, new, stand-alone romance, PLUS ONE.
AS THE MIDTOWN breeze blows between the tall buildings, I brush strands of hair that have escaped my workday bun away from my cheeks and freshly painted lips. Shielding my eyes from the early evening sun, I gaze up at the giant limestone building in front of me. In a few minutes, I’m supposed to meet my best friend and roommate on the top floor at one of the newest, swankiest restaurants in Manhattan, Gaston’s.
Everyone is talking about this place. Gaston’s boasts the best panoramic view of the city from its rooftop patio. The service is supposed to be unrivaled, and the chef is world-renowned. And those are only some of the qualities I’ve heard. With its recent grand opening, getting a seat at the bar, much less a reservation, is only for the elite.
That’s why as I stand on the busy sidewalk and gaze upward, I can’t help but wonder what in the world I’m doing here. What is Shana doing here? A place this nice isn’t our normal stomping ground.
While the glow of the setting sun and the warm spring breeze give me the promise of summer, I continue to formulate questions.
How in the world did Shana get a table at Gaston’s?
And more importantly, why didn’t she give me more notice so I could dress properly?
As it is, I came straight from work, responding to her surprise text message. Not having a chance to go home and change, I’m still wearing the gray sheath dress and black pumps I donned this morning. They’re fine for the pharmaceutical logistics company where I work, but knowing what I’ve heard about this restaurant, I anticipate I’ll be a little too blasé for the likes of Gaston’s.
At the very least, if I’d known I’d be going out to dinner in a place like this one, I would have brought some fun accessories. I’m a fan of brightly colored necklaces, earrings, and even shoes.
Shaking my head and running my palm over my dress, I make the decision to stop worrying about my attire and instead enjoy this unexpected night of fine dining. Just as I’m about to step into the large glass revolving door that leads to the marble lobby, my cell phone vibrates and chirps.
Taking a deep breath, I open my purse and move out of the crowd’s way. Pressing myself against the giant limestone wall, I hit the call button and place my phone to one ear.