Question: What do you do when you fall for
your best friend’s little sister?
More important question: How long can you keep
it a secret before it all goes up in flames?
The Billionaire’s Forbidden Little
Sister, an all-new hot and hilarious brother’s best friend rom-com from New York Times bestselling author Max
Monroe, is available now!
Theo
Cruz, a New York man known for his family’s billion-dollar empire, Cruz Enterprises,
has been indicted this afternoon in the Court of Public Opinion on charges of
Bro-Code Conspiracy.
Chief
counsel for the prosecution, Caplin Hawkins, spoke candidly about the
accusation.
“Once
thought of as a best friend to many—including myself—Theo Cruz has officially
turned his back on human decency. He’s conniving and dishonest, and a habitual
offender of Bro-Code Law 676. He’ll rue the day he forgot that you never—under
any circumstances—get involved with your best friend’s little sister.”
Fact: I
haven’t actually been arrested or
indicted.
More
important fact: I inadvertently messed up—big-time.
Two
strangers in a foreign country, we said hello.
Hello
turned into a kiss.
A kiss
turned into a rendezvous.
And a
rendezvous turned into more than I’d ever imagined.
But her
unruly golden curls and beautiful body hid an important detail—She’s my mouthiest billionaire best friend’s
forbidden little sister.
Fact: I
knew not of my crimes.
More
important fact: I know now, but even
though I know I’m playing with fire,
there’s no way I’m stopping. I can’t leave
her alone.
Question:
What do you do when you fall for your best friend’s little sister?
More
important question: How long can you keep it a secret before it all goes up in
flames?
Download your copy today or read FREE
in Kindle Unlimited!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/33uk2sc
Amazon Worldwide: http://mybook.to/BillionaireForbidden
Add to GoodReads: http://bit.ly/2Bu5KeA
Review:
Max Monroe has another hilarious, witty and emotional book that will have you reading well into the night. When Theo and Lena meet they have no idea that she is his best friend’s little sister. They both feel something they haven’t before and it scares both of them.
I liked the rules they set in motion and now neither wanted to follow them but didn’t want to admit it to the other. When they realize their connection things take a turn. The book club adds another hilarious level to the insanity of the situation. I loved every minute of this book and the series.
I received an ARC in exchange for an honest, voluntary review.
Excerpt
Lena
Two hours and another two shots for
Pippa later and she’s in full-on dance mode. Shaking her hips and tits like she
owns the joint. It only took one intense shimmy during “Gonna Make You Sweat”
to understand what she meant—her boobs, left braless, would absolutely be a lethal weapon. I’m
pretty sure the sweat between them even vaporized into a misty Mel Gibson
mirage, they shook so hard.
And not once has she wanted to stop
for a break.
She’s in the running to be the next
Energizer bunny, but my bladder is full, and I’m dehydrated. For the love of
God, I need something to drink other than Mel-flavored sweat mist and gasoline.
Thankfully, when Pip spots Sophie and
Frederick on the other side of the dance floor, she does some weird version of
the robot, spins in their direction, and makes like the wind through the crowd
while letting her arms trail behind her.
It’s so fucking strange, it’s
hilarious, and I can’t help but laugh.
Sophie feels the same, covering her
mouth comically as she spots Pippa. I wave my hand, hoping to get her
attention, and by some miracle, she spots me through the strobing lights and writhing
bodies.
I jerk my chin and swipe a hand across
my chest before tapping the skin next to my eye and doing the walking symbol
with my fingers. Sophie nods, interpreting my baseball-esque code, regardless
of its lackluster delivery. If I were on the other end of things, I’d be
waffling between second and third base right now, trying to figure out what to
do.
“I’ve got her!” she whisper-yells
toward me, and the weight of drunken-friend-motherhood lifts off me in a flash.
I’m sure my friends with kids would tell me this is how they always feel when
they actually make it to the bathroom.
I didn’t think it was a possibility
for a female living on planet Earth, but when I make it to the toilets—as the Italians call them—the line is
short and speedy. I’m standing at the bar again, waiting on a bartender to take
my order in under five minutes.
Of course, the bar takes so long, I
have to sit down on one of the stools to bide my time. And just like that, the
timetable of the universe has been righted.
While I wait, I glance back toward the
dance floor to check on Pip, the dancing queen—who is now showing off her
twerking skills to a cute twentysomething guy. If I had to guess based on his
appearance, I’d peg him as one of the locals. But for all I really know, he
hails from the Jersey Shore.
Thankfully, Sophie and Frederick are
sticking close to Pip’s side, and her dance partner of unknown origin isn’t
getting too handsy.
All is well. I breathe a sigh of relief
and turn back toward the bar to resume my quest for a drink and, like magic,
lock eyes directly with a bartender.
Thank
God!
He jerks his chin up to head my way,
and I climb to stand on the rung of my barstool with glee.
But when he’s five steps away, his
attention swings back to a point down the bar, and immediately, he diverts.
What the hell?
I glance down at my perky,
tight-nippled breasts and frown. How in
the hell did he see these fuckers and not come in for the landing?
Annoyed, I follow him with my gaze to
what I’m sure must be a woman with three tits and an exposed pussy.
I pause. Stop. Go completely still.
Wow.
That is definitely not a woman with
freakish anatomy. In fact, that’s no woman at all.
Midnight-blue eyes, a little scruff on
his strong jaw, and the kind of lips that I instinctually know will be good at kissing, the man who stole my bartender
warrants more than a double take.
Hot damn.
He’s clad in a smart suit but no tie,
and his collared shirt is loose at the neck but perfectly fitted around the
tight, firm muscles of his chest. The suit is obviously tailored and screams of
money, but I have a feeling not even gold-plating would be able to disguise the
spectacular body he’s got underneath.
His face is serious—but God, even
serious, he is handsome as fuck.
The urge to find out what he looks
like when he smiles is both overwhelming and terrifying. I mean, how would I
even quantify anything beyond perfection?
A shiver runs up my spine. I really want to see what this guy is all
about.
I imagine if I could remember Pippa
existed at this point, I’d try to thank her for insisting I celebrate our
accomplishments by lifting the man ban for the night.
As it is, I’m not sure anyone but me
and the hottie with the sparkling eyes are left on the planet.
When he finishes talking to what I can
only assume is the bartender who abandoned me, he turns back toward the dance
floor and rests his hip against the bar.
His still-serious eyes scan the joint,
moving from the dance floor to the VIP section to the intimate booths scattered
along the walls and then back to the line of the bar, all the way back to me.
My breath catches in my throat when he
meets my curious gaze and pauses.
Yes,
please.
Drink forgotten, I mouth the word “Hi”
toward him, and the slight hint of a smile threatens to quirk up just one
corner of his lips.
God, I want to see him smile.
He mouths “Hi” back before pulling the
center of his bottom lip between his teeth and dragging it back out. One
perfect dimple pokes out from his cheek.
Hell’s bells, that’s one dangerously sexy look…
Unconsciously, I lick my bottom lip,
and without hesitation, he shoves away from his spot at the bar and closes the
distance between us.
“Hi,” I repeat when he stops within
hearing distance—and in this club, with this crowd and noise, that’s pretty
fucking close.
With full lips, white teeth, and two dimples,
he smiles the sexiest smile I’ve seen in my life at the single-syllable word. And
as a bonus, I can see now that his sparkling eyes are midnight blue, like the
deepest part of the ocean.
“Hi,” he responds, rounding out our
freak cycle of hellos, and it’s instantly evident he’s an American like me.
“You should do that more.”
He raises a questioning brow, leaning
just one hand into the lighted marble bar top behind me. It makes his size feel
impressive, makes me feel enveloped. My whole body spasms, and I take a deep
breath to control it. “Do what more?”
“Smile,” I clarify.
A soft but deep and raspy chuckle
leaves his perfect, kissable mouth. “Who says I don’t?”
I reach up toward the skin between his
brows and his gaze follows my hand skeptically, but he doesn’t back away. “This
little, almost nonexistent line right here,” I say softly, running a finger
across it.
His eyes search mine in the kind of
hot and sexy way that makes me wonder if my panties are still there, but I do
my best to keep my voice even as I explain further. “I bet you furrow your brow
all the time.”
He leans closer to me, and my fingers
slide into the lush, dark locks of his hair on accident. “Is that right?”
“Uh-huh,” I answer simply, unable to
form words until my hand finds its way back to the safe space of my lap. It’s
purely circumstantial that my fingers graze his cheek and then his neck along
the way. I clear my throat and look up to meet his eyes again. “I mean, here
you are, in a club, at a bar with beautiful women all around you, and until you
came over here, I couldn’t tell if you were having a good time at all.”
He laughs a little and then asks, “You
know what’s funny?”
Completely oblivious to the answer but
equally eager to find out, I shake my head.
“Neither could I.”
“And now?” I challenge with one inquisitive
eyebrow.
“Now, I definitely am.”
I smile then, allowing a cascade of
goose bumps to cover my arms from my shoulders to my fingertips.
Goddamn. He’s trouble, and I like it. In fact, I like it way too much.
“Well, in that case…” I pause and bite
down on my bottom lip. “Since you stole my bartender, I think it’s only fair
that you buy me a drink.”
He searches my eyes, a small smile
once again lighting his own. “Stole your bartender?”
“Yep. Plucked him right from my
braless grasp.”
He laughs again, shaking his head and
fighting like hell not to look down. I’m immediately impressed by his level of
self-control. Nine out of ten of the men I’ve been with in the past would have
focused in on my buzzword and failed to look away from it for the rest of the
night.
But not this guy. He’s interested—I
can tell by the way his pupils have dilated—but for now, he’s content to focus
on my eyes.
Irony at its finest, as that simple
behavior actually increases his chances of seeing my nipples later.
“Okay, then. I guess I owe you one.
What’s your poison?” That handsome grin of his grows wider, and I swear to God,
I can feel it all the way to my damn toes.
Tell him gin and tonic because it will taste
good when you get him to kiss you later, my horny, sex-deprived
subconscious instructs.
The other side of my brain—the rational side—suggests something low in
alcohol content—something that promotes good decisions.
I think it over for a brief moment,
scanning the features of his too-handsome face and landing on his luscious
smirking lips once again.
The answer pours out of me like a
benediction. “Gin and tonic, please.”
About Max
Monroe
A
secret duo of romance authors team up under the New York Times and USA Today
Bestselling pseudonym Max Monroe to bring you sexy, laugh-out-loud reads.
Max
Monroe is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of more
than ten contemporary romance titles. Favorite writing partners and long time
friends, Max and Monroe strive to live and write all the fun, sexy swoon so
often missing from their Facebook newsfeed. Sarcastic by nature, their two
writing souls feel like they’ve found their other half. This is their most
favorite adventure thus far.
Connect
with Max Monroe
Website: https://www.authormaxmonroe.com/
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