 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
F/F, Erotic Romance, Friends-to-Lovers [Coming November 13, 2025 / 8,000 Words] AMZ / Apple / BN / Kobo / SW / All Buy Links When Joan Bishop grudgingly attends a fancy Christmas gala, she's not expecting a sexy run-in with the last woman she has any business wanting. The daughter of Joan's two closest friends, Tasha Oakes is gorgeous, clever, and completely off-limits. But a moment under the mistletoe could change all the rules. After months of resisting the attraction between them, maybe it's time Joan stopped fighting her own heart. The venue, for all its impressive scope—massive stone columns, soaring archways, and three tiers of artfully lit balconies rising toward a dizzyingly ornate ceiling—is so cold that Joan wishes she'd worn a suit, instead of this dress made of satiny fabric. It's a stylish ensemble, asymmetrical across her chest, with tight sleeves that fall just past her elbows. The loose skirt almost reaches her ankles. But it also does very little to keep away the chill, especially with her long hair done up in a complicated arrangement on top of her head, leaving her neck bare. Such are the sacrifices of attending an extravagant birthday party posing as a Christmas Eve gala, in a guise appropriate for the festivities. She wouldn't be here at all, if social obligations and loyalty didn't require her presence. But Joan Bishop is nothing if not reliable, and this ridiculous party is being hosted by some of her closest friends. Lou and Andrea Oakes possess the kind of wealth that makes Joan's mind skip and stutter if she thinks about it too hard. They were rich individually before they met—Lou with family money and Andrea through a lucky lightning-strike of economics and business acumen—and with their investments combined, they are exactly the sort of couple who can throw around money for an event like this. Joan made a handful of attempts to convince them to maybe tone down the ostentation, but they laughed her off with good humor. Fond and incredulous and unable to understand how anyone could not want to go all-in for something as exciting as Andrea Oakes' fiftieth birthday party. Go big or go home, in essence. And in the end, Joan rolled her eyes and left them to their decadence, promising to show up and enjoy herself. Or at least, as she'd amended in the privacy of her own head, to show up and fake it. Now she's here, idly meandering the designated areas of the art museum Lou and Andrea have rented out by dint of a significant donation. She's glad for the comfort of her tasteful flats—a choice easily made when her stocky height means she stands above a crowd even without high heels. She sips from the aggressively bubbly champaign in her glass, studying her surroundings quietly. Aside from the goosebump-inducing temperatures, the venue really is lovely. Subtle strings of lights give the stone walls and staircases a soft glow, making paintings and statues alike look mysterious and romantic. There are strands of holly, clusters of pinecones, bursts of mistletoe scattered artfully throughout the austere space. The serving staff dart about so deftly that they blend into the scenery like a theater tech crew, visible only when materializing to offer a drink or a canapĂ©. Joan exchanges superficial greetings with what seems like an endless stream of friends, acquaintances, total strangers. Some of them give her appreciative looks, which is pleasant for her ego but ultimately pointless. This isn't the sort of party one takes a stranger home from, and even if it were, Joan would not be on the lookout for a casual bed partner tonight. She's not on the lookout for anything, she reminds herself sternly. She certainly is not looking for anyone specific, who may or may not be the worst idea in the world. No sooner has she finished admonishing herself than the whole world goes a little bit brighter as Tasha Oakes rounds a nearby corner and slips smoothly into Joan's line of sight. Tasha's bland sociable smile transforms into something real when her eyes catch on Joan, wide and sincere and completely dazzling. The effect is only heightened by the sunset-pink lipstick tinting her lovely mouth. Her eyes look bigger than usual behind a pair of glasses with thick rainbow rims, her long lashes dark with mascara and eyelids glittering in the golden light. "There you are, finally," Tasha says, so focused on Joan that she doesn't notice the server who tries to offer a glass of wine for her empty hand. She moves easily in a pair of shiny high heels, and her dress— Joan's heart gives a stutter as she takes in the tight black lines of Tasha's dress, and she requires conscious effort not to stare. If Joan is uncomfortably chilly in this room, it's a wonder Tasha looks perfectly at ease in that nearly scandalous little garment, sleeveless and low-cut, with a short skirt that clings to her thighs and exaggerates her shapely legs. A delicate neckless is the only jewelry she wears, a nearly invisible chain with a tear-drop pendant that rests just between her collarbones. Her black hair, shoulder length and soft with curls, has been left loose and tousled for the evening, and it glints almost as brightly as the delicate chain around her neck. Tasha is always beautiful, whether dressed up for one of her parents' fancy events—as Lou and Andrea's only child, she's as much a fashionable accessory as a guest in her own right—or donning the well-worn overalls and loose button-up shirts she favors for her work sculpting in metal and stone. That she looks more fey than human tonight does nothing at all to diminish the inconvenient pull Joan feels, toward a woman who is surely off-limits. "Were you looking for me?" Joan manages to ask, after what she prays wasn't too noticeable a delay. Tasha flutters nearer, her smile taking on an impish air. "Of course I was. And here you are, exactly where I most hoped to find you." Joan's brow furrows and she glances to either side, taking in the little nook in which she is standing, tucked beneath a balcony and surrounded by a handful of splashy abstract paintings. "In a corner?" she asks, when clarity is not immediately forthcoming. "Beneath the mistletoe." Mischief glints bright as starlight in Tasha's eyes. AMZ / Apple / BN / Kobo / SW / All Buy Links |
Cover design by Yolande Kleinn ISBN 978-1-946316-64-6 |