Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 711(@200wpm)___ 569(@250wpm)___ 474(@300wpm)
“Right to the dick. It’s a wonder we’re best friends, being that you’ve lived the last thirty years without one.”
“Seriously. But that’s why I’m here.”
Jocelyn sat up. “Oh?”
“Times, they are a’changin’.”
Sudden interest sharpened her features. “Do tell.”
Wren drew in a galvanizing breath, her pulse fluttering with nervous energy. “Logan kissed me.”
Jocelyn stilled and gaped at her, pastry nearly falling out of her mouth. “Logan Hawthorne?”
“What other Logan do you know?”
“Ho-ly shit. I knew he always had a thing for you! When? How did it happen? I want all the details!”
“It was behind the corner market. We were on a date.”
Jocelyn curled her lip in a look of disappointment. “Behind the corner market? Like where the dumpsters are?” She rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “He could have done a little better than that.”
“It was cute. It was a scavenger hunt thing.”
Her friend snicked her tongue against her teeth. “Well, you didn’t mention that. That’s adorable.”
“I know!”
Jocelyn looked off in the distance as if picturing it, then moaned with appreciation. “If I had a shot at Logan Hawthorne I’d break him in one use.” She grinned wickedly. “How was the kiss?”
“Sweet. Gentle.”
“Ugh. I’m so sorry to hear that. Maybe he just needs a good spank—”
“I also kissed Soren.”
“Wait! What?” She shoved the donuts away to focus, chocolate smearing her fingers. “This. Just. Got. Interesting. Spill! I want all the tea, you little hippie harlot!”
“We had a date... Last night.”
“Where?”
“Salt & Ember.”
She physically melted from the couch and onto the floor with dramatic flair. “Of course, he would take you there. That boy has such alpha energy. He’s the sort of guy a woman can run a few rounds with. Tell me about his kiss.”
“It was a really good kiss.” Even now, Wren’s toes curled remembering the way he held her close, the taste of champagne on his lips. “Slow, but deliberate. Sort of forceful, but not in a rushed way.”
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Go on.” She pulled the donuts back to her lap as if holding popcorn for a movie.
Wren bit her lip, heat climbing her neck. “I haven’t even told you the biggest part yet.”
“Wait, there’s more? Oh, my God! Did you go to bed with him? Because if so, that calls for more than donuts.”
“No.” Her face burned as a nip of shame tightened her throat. She bit her lip and covered her face in embarrassment. “Greyson also kissed me.”
Silence.
Wren peeked through her fingers. Jocelyn just blinked at her, mouth hanging open. “Say something, Joce.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Then she snorted with disbelief. “Holy crap on a cracker, Wren. You’ve actually rendered me speechless. That’s never happened before. Three Hawthornes? Three!” She climbed back onto the couch to give this conversation the respect it deserved. “I guess my first question is... how?”
Over the next hour, Wren gave Jocelyn a full rundown of everything that had been happening in her life. Of course, Jocelyn wanted every inappropriate detail, but that was what made her a bestselling author of some of the hottest Viking smut to ever hit the page.
When Wren finished, Joce looked at her watch and whistled low. “Damn, it’s only ten-thirty. Ah, fuck it. Close enough. This calls for something stronger than caffeine. Oh! And I just got a new bottle of that peanut butter whiskey! Be right back.”
“If you’re hosting an event tonight, should you be drinking?”
“It adds to my charm,” she yelled as she rummaged through the shelf of bottles in the other room, glass clinking against glass. “Besides, I have an iron liver.”
When she returned with a bottle and two glasses of ice, Wren stopped her. “I have a yoga class to teach in an hour.”
“One glass won’t kill you. We have to celebrate. You got fingered by Greyson Hawthorne. This is mega big.”
“Ugh.” Wren winced. “We’re too old to use words like ‘fingered.’”
“Says the thirty-year-old virgin.”
“Hey! You keep that information in the vault.”
She waved her concerns away with amber liquid sloshing. “Who doesn’t love a virgin trope?”
Sometimes Wren felt like the most inexperienced woman in the world. “Does it even count as fingering if there technically wasn’t penetration?”
Jocelyn cocked her head in confusion, ice cubes clinking. “Jesus, any slower of a burn and the fire’s going out. What do you mean he didn’t penetrate?”
“I don’t know. It was more…rubbing.”
“Like an old-school bump-and-grind?” Jocelyn cocked her head, thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “Okay, that’s hot. But which billionaire bad-boy will it be? So many options! The golden retriever, the reclusive woodsman, or the alpha.” Despite her objections, Jocelyn poured two glasses. “What about the bonfire incident? Are you finally over that?”
The bonfire was something they never discussed because it had been that big of a deal to Wren when it happened. Just the mere mention of it made her entire body tense, muscles coiling with remembered humiliation.