Lucky Fall
A Totally Bound Publication
Lucky Fall
ISBN #
978-1-78184-939-2
©Copyright MK Schiller 2014
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright January 2014
Edited by Rebecca Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
heat rating
of
Totally Burning
and a
Sexometer
of
2.
This story contains 59 pages, additionally there is also a
free excerpt
at the end of the book containing 8 pages.
Paramour
LUCKY FALL
MK Schiller
A woman who thought she was finished with love meets the one man capable of changing her mind.
Julianne Brenan was living her life like a nun without a church. Suffering from a betrayal she let define her, she chooses to live in solitude. Then a chance encounter on her birthday with a younger, handsome, billionaire leads to a night of passion like she’s never experienced. Victor Ivanov releases all her inhibitions and makes her feel alive. Julianne is thankful for the experience and chooses to cherish the memory of Victor’s gentle but demanding touch. But Victor has no intention of being a memory for Julianne. She’s a beautiful but bashful bookseller, and he’s no ordinary billionaire.
Dedication
Dear fellow romance lover, thank you for reading my first novella. I want to thank my dedicated editor, Rebecca Douglas for her diligent efforts in improving my writing and the staff at Totally Bound for their faith in me. As always, thank you to the bloggers, readers and my family whose support is the reason I write. I hope you enjoy Julianne and Victor’s story and never stop looking for the happily ever after.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
The Times
: The New York Times Company
The Love Boat
: CBS Television Distribution
Armani: Giorgio Armani S.p.A.
Animal Planet
: Discovery Communications, Inc.
Mysterious Ways
: Bono, U2
Chapter One
“I can do this,” I kept repeating like a silly, silent mantra, trying to give myself a much-needed boost of courage. I chewed my bottom lip anxiously, hoping I could pull off the six-inch stilettos I’d purchased on a whim. I couldn’t remember the last time such dangerous heels graced my feet. As it was, the clicking sounds they emanated against the Carrara marble floors echoed throughout the lavish Excalibur Hotel lobby, grating on my nerves. Why I was here again? I hadn’t celebrated my birthday in three years, not since that horrible fortieth that would go down in history as the worst day of my life.
Libby had insisted, though. She was the only friend I’d kept after the divorce, and that was because John couldn’t stand her. She was too blunt and honest, even for me at times, but I loved that I always knew where I stood with her. My other friends had all made a show of it, until I’d heard snippets of conversations that included my ex-husband, John, and the sugary arm candy who’d taken up residence in the house I’d painstakingly redecorated. Who was I kidding? She wasn’t just sleeping on my sheets and using my jetted tub—she was living my life, and I had to accept that. I had a new life now and it was high time I started enjoying it, beginning with this dinner.
Libby had definitely gone all out. The swanky hotel was right off Broadway and everyone in New York from the Bohemian-chic Greenwich crowd to the power-hungry Wall Street types were dying to get in. We’d been able to snag a reservation in the five-star restaurant because Libby’s brother was a food critic at the
The Times
and had connections.
“Julie, darling, over here,” Libby greeted from the plush settee in the hotel lobby. She motioned to me, showing off her interesting French-style manicure, done in two shades of lime green. She was definitely a personality.
I walked over with slow, steady steps, telling myself to take in the sumptuous surroundings, but really it was because my heels scared me to death and Libby seemed miles away. Although I was nervous, I had to admit that I felt sexy for the first time in a long time. The fancy chignon actually worked well with my long brown hair, making every wayward wisp appear accidental, when in fact they’d been planned with painstaking precision. The low cut black evening dress I’d almost taken back because it was too daring clung to my curves just enough to be seductive without giving away the goods. What the hell—I looked hot for once and needed to hold my head up high.
I squared my shoulders, increasing my gait, and returned the smile of a beautiful young man who stood with his hands on his hips. He was wearing an expensive black suit and a silver diamond-pattern tie that was modern, but also seemed reminiscent of an earlier era. There was something suggestive in his sexy grin and as I neared him, my anxiety increased exponentially with each step. His intense gaze swept over my body in a stimulating way, pausing on my come-fuck-me heels.
Then my foot faltered. I went hurtling, my feet rolling on a collision course I had no control over. I crashed into a muscled wall of impenetrable black suit. He must have shifted to catch me. Shit!
He pulled me away by my arms. “Are you all right, miss?” he asked in a sexy British accent.
Miss
and not
ma’am
—I liked that and it didn’t hurt that the voice was deep and unmistakably British, causing every word to drip with an air of intelligence that made it downright sexy. I stared up at him, completely embarrassed, but also mesmerized. The voice fitted the man. He was young, tall, with dark hair that was short enough to be professional, but long enough to tug. He had thick lips…the kind you could kiss for a long time without chapping, and sapphire-colored eyes that were so bright, they were brilliant.
He looked at me with genuine concern, and I tried like hell to make some sort of feeble attempt to respond before he got the impression I was mute.
“It was my fault. I lost my balance,” I muttered.
“No, It was my pleasure,” he replied without pause. “Would you care for a seat?”
“No really, I’m fine.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, lowering his voice and it took me a moment to recognize the come on. It had been so long since I’d heard one. Thankfully, I was smart enough not to read into it. “Are you dining or staying here?”
“Dining,” I replied, trying to keep my breath steady as his masculine scent washed over me. It was fresh linen, but heady like musk—clean, pleasant and complexly feral at the same time. He was still holding my arms in his strong hands, circling his thumbs over my skin, slowly caressing me. I backed away, trying to maintain what little dignity remained since my graceless act.
“May I escort you?” He held his arm out in a gesture I’d only seen in old movies and episodes of
The Love Boat
. Was he for real? This was New York, not New Amsterdam. Plus, he was like half my age. Okay, maybe half was an exaggeration.
“Thank you, but I think I can make it on my own now.”
“I’d hate to have this fine establishment’s reputation tarnished by a slip and fall.”
So that was it. He was just being friendly. I wished he hadn’t told me that part.
“I assure you it’s not the floors, but rather my clumsy feet. This hotel is perfect, and the last thing I would do is mar its pristine reputation.”
He shrugged, smiling for the first time, showing off a set of gleaming white teeth that made him look menacing…in a good way. “The great advantage of a hotel is that it is a refuge from home life.”
I nodded, matching his smile. “George Bernard Shaw couldn’t have said it better. In fact, I believe he did say it.”
His grin widened and there was a glint in his eye, as if he enjoyed being called out. “Ah, so you’ve caught me pilfering another man’s words. Beautiful and smart—an irresistible combination.”
I took in a deep breath, surprised by his arsenal of compliments. “It’s an occupational hazard.”
“Oh, you’re a writer?”
“No, a reader, but books are my business.”
“Then please join me for dinner. We can discuss our favorite Shaw characters, and I can continue to get lost in those big brown eyes of yours. I think they’re really quite unique.”
He thinks my eyes are unique?
“Brown is the most common eye color.”
“There is nothing common about you.”
“I don’t even know your name,” I whispered, realizing Libby was probably staring at me so hard she was burning a hole in my dress.
“Let’s remedy that. Victor Ivanov.” He reached out his hand to shake mine.
I clasped it, and as soon he curled his fingers around mine, he flipped my hand before brushing it under his lips. The surprising act combined with the supple curve of his mouth caused my traitorous body to shiver.
“Julie Brenan.”
He arched his eyebrow as if awaiting more information.
“Julianne Brenan,” I corrected, not sure why I wanted him to know my full name, but it slipped out of my mouth, hanging in the thick air between us.
“It’s as lovely as its owner.”
I swallowed, wondering if my underwear would sustain any more of his flattery. “You have a Russian name and a British accent. There must be a story there.”
“There is, but I would rather use it to lure you into accepting my invitation.”
“I cannot join you, Mr Ivanov. I’m meeting someone.”
“It’s Victor. Who is getting the pleasure of your company tonight? Another man?” he asked with an amused smirk, but his eyes grew darker and narrowed at the same time. “Boyfriend, husband, or inconsequential date?”
“Why do you want to know?” I batted my lashes, hoping it looked beguiling and not like something had flown into my eye. I couldn’t believe I was actually flirting back. If the art of seduction were equated to paint on a canvas, I’d end up with stick figures at best. He made it easy though, like it was a natural predisposition of my thought process.
“I prefer to verify the stakes before placing any bets.”
“And what are you wagering, Victor?”
He pulled my hand with just enough force that my feet followed. He bent, tilting his head so his sweet mouth hovered next to my ear. “That you’ll end up in my bed tonight with your tongue, hands and all your other delicious parts entangled with mine.”