A Manhattanite's ChristmasBy: Avery Aster
Fans of J.S. Scott, Lauren Blakely, Kendall Ryan, and Penelope Ward will enjoy this hilarious and naughty, full-length, stand-alone, cliffhanger free, m/f contemporary erotic romance from New York Times Bestselling Author Avery Aster.
When it comes to raising his only son, single dad Sheldon Truman will do whatever it takes to secure the best Christmas for his autistic child, even if that means marrying America's leading pop princess and starring on Celebrity Newlywed Boot Camp to pay for it. After all, he doesn't believe in marriage, monogamy, or happily ever after, so what's there to lose?
With a failing handbag line, a perfume brand that stinks, and a singing career gone flat, actress Neve Adele will do anything that her PR firm, Brill Inc., throws her way. So when she's cast alongside the hottest bad boy she's ever met, the cameras start rolling, and they're forced to share a bed.
Once the filming is over, the feelings that Neve's been faking toward Sheldon suddenly become a reality. Can she stop thinking about him and get her career back on track? Or will she give up her hunger for fame and get real with the Manhattanite who not only took her virginity but her heart?
Often while reading Avery Aster’s books, readers have been known to experience hot flashes, orgasms, and laughter to the point of peeing in their pants.
It’s suggested that you have a bucket of ice nearby, along with a chilled glass of champagne and your favorite sex toy—fully charged—before reading this story.
Please note that Avery’s writing is not suitable for prudes, slut-shamers, or uptight readers who don’t have a sense of humor about money, sex, or fame. Avery’s books are not intended for anyone under the age of 18.
Swag and reader contests can be found on Avery’s blog at: AveryAster.com
Interact with Avery while reading The Manhattanites on Instagram and Twitter @AveryAster using the hashtags #TheManhattanites #EroticRomance
Hello Gorgeous Reader, Happy Fuckin’ Holidays! Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. Happy Kwanzaa! Wishing you a very happy whatever the fudge doesn’t offend you. wink But if I know my readers (as I do) it takes a lot to make your perfectly stenciled brow arch high in surprise. Right? Right!
Oh Yesss! I have a FREE GIFT for you. Subscribe to my newsletter and you’ll get a complimentary, full-length, smuttastic novel. Click here http://www.eepurl.com/CQ665
If you’re new to the contemporary erotic romance series The Manhattanites—buckle up for one fabulous romp. I promise there are no subplots carried over from other books in the series with A Manhattanite’s Christmas.
You’re about to meet a hawt new couple. *fans self* A wealthy alpha female and blue collared inked muscleman collide when they’re forced to wed. After this novel be sure to join Kiki as she takes on two brothers in UNIQUE, the next installment in this naughty romance series, exclusively available through Kindle Unlimited. Enjoy!
“Sometimes in life you just have to fake it until you make it. Fake fame. Fake looks. Fake money. However, a fake marriage isn’t on my Christmas wish list, that’s for sure. Or is it?” –Neve Adele, America’s #1 reality star, pop singer, perfumer
Two Years Ago
On the Spectrum
Harlem, New York
I look at the clock for the umpteenth time. They should be here by now.
The doorbell rings and my never-had-to-care-for-anyone-but-myself-in-my-entire-life heart lurches into my throat as I stop pacing the floor. The moment I’ve been dreaming about since I first heard I had a son is here. My hands, usually steady and calculated—hence why I make such a great airplane mechanic—start to shake as I grab the doorknob for a second longer than usual. I haven’t slept in days. How could I?
I have a son.
You can do this, Sheldon Truman. You got this.
I pull the door open. Ignoring the social worker, I focus my intention down below her waist to the little boy.
A bowl cut of blond hair makes his ears jet out. Eyes wide as saucers gaze up but don’t lock with mine. Instead, the boy stares off to my left side.
“Sheldon Truman, I’m Coral Rankin,” the social worker says in a resigned voice, shaking my hand. “And this is your son, Liam.”