Lyons Club

Edwin Lyon is about twenty years older, several inches taller, and significantly richer. But that last part is no surprise. He is the CEO of the Lyons Club, after all. And I am so deep in debt that I couldn't see the surface if I tried. The kicker? He has no idea his new nightclub manager—yours truly—used to date his son.

I knew better than to fall for my latest client. But Nate Lyons is not easy to resist, and being his live-in physical therapist is an exercise in restraint. One I'm not sure I'll be able to pull off. Enter Mason Lotts. Nate's best friend. My very hot ex-boyfriend. The very man I have been trying to forget. You'd think my attraction to Nate would help me put the past behind me, but the chemistry between me and Mason remains undeniable.

Seth Vance sure knows how to drive me crazy. He has been practicing since our parents decided to get married and bind the two of us together for life. Even at sixteen, no boys were ever allowed—or willing—to go near me. And I knew exactly why. My overprotective, possessive stepbrother was to blame. It took going away to college for me to finally get a real boyfriend, and look how that turned out. A decade later, I've returned. Older, wiser, and ready to chase my deepest desires. And what I want is to get rid of my V card and find a man who can make all my submissive fantasies come true.

I thought leaving Wall Street to start my own coffee business would be a piece of cake. I never wanted an assistant, let alone one as feisty and bossy as this one. Camilla Graff can rile me up on a good day, and those amber eyes of hers and that never-ending attitude definitely do not help. I should have never brought her to Hawaii with me. I should have never asked her to fake-date me to appease my mother. And I sure as hell shouldn't have shared a room with her.

Leaving the UK to start over in New York City seemed like a great idea in theory. But raising a child by myself has not exactly been a walk in the park, and this move has proven to be a challenge like no other. The last thing I need is this infatuation that I can't seem to get over. Abigail Lyons is nineteen years younger than me, way too pretty for her own good, and has made it clear in no uncertain terms that she hates my guts.