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Bound To Me: Hotel D, #10
Bound To Me: Hotel D, #10
Bound To Me: Hotel D, #10
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Bound To Me: Hotel D, #10

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I'll do anything to sell this property — even fake date my ex-fling.

 

Desperate times call for desperate measures, right? And I desperately need this commission to help my aging parents.

 

So when my boss suggests I pretend to date Callum West, former TV star, I go all in. Never mind that I don't have time for any kind of romance, real or otherwise. And ignore the fact that Callum and I shared a scorching weekend together last summer. This is strictly business.

 

But the more time I spend with the too-charming Brit, the more the lines blur. His very real kisses and our explosive chemistry make it hard to remember that this is all pretend.

I can't afford to get caught up in this fantasy. No matter how much I want to be his leading lady on and off the stage…

 

Bound To Me is the tenth book in the Hotel D series. These short, steamy romances feature mature couples who know what they want, in the bedroom and out! Each book in the series can be read as a standalone.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherNika Stone
Release dateJun 20, 2024
ISBN9798227533500
Bound To Me: Hotel D, #10

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    Book preview

    Bound To Me - Nika Stone

    Bound To Me

    Bound To Me

    HOTEL D

    BOOK TEN

    NIKA STONE

    Heartbound Press

    Copyright © 2024 by Nika Stone

    All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

    Cover design by Nika Stone; images licensed from DepositPhotos.

    Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

    Dedicated to the real Lin Woods.

    (You know who you are —

    and you know how much I love you! ;*)

    Contents

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    Cal

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    Lin

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    About the Author

    Also by Nika Stone

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    Lin

    Iturn into the driveway and stare up at the ornately crafted wrought-iron gates. My stomach sinks as I see the telltale design of vines and fruit in the metal fencing.

    No. Oh my goodness, no. Not this house.

    My boss told me the property we were seeing this morning would be a surprise. I didn’t think it was going to be a nightmare.

    Muffling a sigh, I punch in the entry code she gave me. The gates slide back, smooth as butter, on the sturdy metal rails. I ease my vehicle onto the road toward Honeyberry House.

    The road slowly rises as I get closer to the house. The gentle incline — and the killer views — perfectly show off this stunning piece of land, carved out of the side of a mountain. A tiny vineyard makes the most of the hillside. I don’t know enough to tell if they can produce wine on the premises, but even if it’s just enough for the household, it’s a lovely extra touch.

    At the crest of the hill, the drive turns into a broad patch of land that serves as a parking area. I slip my car into a cozy spot near the three bayed garage and gatehouse. So far, so good. If only this weren’t the most notoriously impossible to sell property in town.

    I spot my boss’ blue Toyota Prius and our junior agent’s red Yaris a couple of spots over from mine. I’m glad; this showing shouldn’t take long. I’ve got a class to get to in about an hour.

    My phone chimes with a message from my niece. I loosen my seat belt and dig out the device.

    Hey, Auntie Lin! Thanks for coming this weekend — and for the generous gift card. I’ll show you the shoes I got when I find the outfit to go with them.

    You’re welcome, Brookie. Wish me luck with this property today. It’s a special case.

    I believe in you, Titi! Remember the video I showed you? Manifest your success!

    K?

    Don’t K me, boomer! ;)

    Boomer??? Do we need to do some remedial math, B?

    I just returned from a quick visit to her university’s friends and family weekend. In between events, she forced me to sit and watch some video she found on the internet about telling the universe what you want and attracting it to yourself. I told her it sounds like hot foolishness to me, but she swears that manifesting is how she got into her dream school. She was so sincere, I didn’t have the heart to point out that her killer GPA and three years of participating in a million extracurriculars had a lot to do with that, too.

    But never let it be said I won’t do whatever it takes to close the sale — and with this property, that’s exactly what I’ll need to do. Per her instructions, I close my eyes and clear my mind.

    Please, patron saints of real estate, I intone, please let this one be the property of my dreams. May it be mold free, may it have a smoothly functioning HVAC system, and may it have been updated after the nineteen seventies. And, most of all, please, please: don’t let it be a murder house.

    I cross myself. I’m not sure if that should be part of the ritual, but I figure it can’t hurt.

    Girl, what are you doing? Melissa Greenfield, my boss/best friend, peeks into my car window, one eyebrow raised.

    Brooke is into manifestation. I promised her I’d try it.

    She shakes her head, her perfectly silk-pressed hair swinging just so. You really let that child talk you into anything, don’t you?

    I shrug. She was right about kombucha, Mel’s other eyebrow goes up. She is not a fan of the ‘buch.

    What did you ask for?

    That’s private. I exit the car, grabbing my checklist and clipboard to take notes on the property’s condition. Mel snorts at my evasion, as well as my need for pen and paper. She’s a digital first kind of girl.

    It was about work, wasn’t it? I mime zipping my lips; she laughs, knowing that she’s caught me. That is so sad.

    Work is all I can handle right now. Mel scoffs. We’ve had this argument before.

    It’s true, I insist. And I’m fine with that.

    Okay, universe: as long as you’re granting wishes, please send my bestie a man who will give her the hottest, filthiest, so-dirty-she-can’t-even-talk-about-it-without-blushing night of her life.

    Oh. My. Lord! Stop! I cover my face with my hands. That’s enough manifesting from you today, nasty girl. Let’s go see what’s up with this house.

    Mel and I approach the house, each lost in our own thoughts. A smile lingers on her face. She’s always loved how easy it is to make me blush. It’s been her favorite part of our friendship for the last fifteen years. And the woman is constantly encouraging me to find a man and have some no strings attached fun.

    The irony of it all is that I never told her: last summer, the universe gave me that exact gift. I hold back a full body shiver, remembering just how fabulous it was to unwrap.

    Instantly, my mind is awash with the memory of his gorgeous dark eyes, and how he looked at me as if I were the only woman in the world. His long, muscular body and how good it felt pressed against my own. The feel of his mouth on every single inch of my skin... The things he whispered to me in that dark, posh accent... the things he did to me... I haven’t been able to look at another man since.

    I wrench my mind away from my heated memories and back to the present.

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