
Walk on the Wild Side, Book 2
C.J. Ellisson
Genre: erotic
romance
Publisher: Red Hot
Publishing
Carla Johnson
thinks issuing orders to a lover will keep her heart safe and leave her in
charge of her own destiny. Afraid for Carla’s future, her best friend Heather
implores her to change her self-centered ways, handing her a list of love
life mistakes to steer clear of:
1. Casual Sex
2. Friends with
Benefits
3. Avoidance of
Intimacy
Carla ignores the
list—unwilling to face she might have a commitment problem. Until she invites a
co-worker to her place one night. She instantly regrets the hum-drum sexual
encounter and discourages the accountant from pursuing her.
Andy Shea refuses
to become another lover the feisty blonde dumps. It'll take a patient
man with a strong hand to unlock Carla's sexual awareness and win her heart.
He’s up for the challenge to convince her he’s the one—and eager to
prove this number cruncher won’t make a boring bedmate.
Amazon Goodreads
Review: Avoiding Mr. Right by C.J. Ellisson is a great read if you're looking for your next fix of a steamy romance. I was not previously familiar with any of Ellisson's titles but I was happily surprised when I started reading Avoiding Mr. Right. The characters were likeable and fun and the story was definitely unique. Overall, I would have to say I really enjoyed this one. Ellisson gives readers the perfect balance of romance and drama. I would highly recommend this to readers who are looking for a mixture of eroticism and romance.
Rating: 4/5 DIAMONDS
Review: Avoiding Mr. Right by C.J. Ellisson is a great read if you're looking for your next fix of a steamy romance. I was not previously familiar with any of Ellisson's titles but I was happily surprised when I started reading Avoiding Mr. Right. The characters were likeable and fun and the story was definitely unique. Overall, I would have to say I really enjoyed this one. Ellisson gives readers the perfect balance of romance and drama. I would highly recommend this to readers who are looking for a mixture of eroticism and romance.
Rating: 4/5 DIAMONDS

C.J. Ellisson is the USA
Today Bestselling author of the NYT Bestselling book, Vanilla on Top, the
bestselling V V Inn series, and several erotica shorts. She lives in northern
Virginia with her husband, two children, two dogs, and a fluffy black cat who
makes her sneeze.
Unlike most full-time
authors, she's also battling severe chronic illness. C.J. works daily to put
her Lupus into remission and continues to fight numerous bacterial infections
while her immune system slowly attacks her body.
She turned to writing when
she could no longer work outside the home and claims the escape of penning
contemporary fantasy, erotica, and erotic romance has helped save her sanity.
To learn more about C.J. and
her other books, please stop by the author's website http://www.cjellisson.com or visit her on facebook at http://www.facebook.com/c.j.ellissonfanpage
Excerpt:
Chapter
One
Carla
“Casual Sex,” I say, twisting the phrase so it sounds like
a bad thing. “There. I said it.” I look across the table and meet
my best friend’s dark, knowing gaze. “Happy now?” Unable to hold
her penetrating stare any longer, I reach for my tepid chai latte, grateful
it’s tasty even cold.
“I know you think I’m
being a shrewish bitch, Carla. But it’s for your own good.” Heather
picks up her favorite vanilla cappuccino and takes a drink.
“And why is that, exactly?”
Regret gnaws at my stomach. Why did I let myself get dragged into this
conversation during my lunch hour? “Sure, you found your great ‘one-and-only’
guy, but I don’t think that’s going to happen with me.”
Heather ignores me and
taps her finger on the small sheet of paper on the table between us.
“Next one.”
Geez, this feels like
a one-woman intervention, and despite the jokes I could make over that
realization, I’m really not enjoying it. The pleading on her compassionate face has
me glancing at the slip of paper once more. “Friends with Benefits. Oh, come on, that too? I kind of like
that one. Makes it much easier to stay friends when the guy winds up
being dumb, but not bad in bed.”
Heather’s mouth sets
in a firm line and I plow ahead to the last item on her unhelpful “list”
of what she sees as my love life faults. “Avoidance of Intimacy. Seriously? You think I do all this crap?”
A knot of anxiety sits in my throat. “I’m not a fun-loving chick
all the time, you know. I have been searching for the right guy.”
The right guy who’s perfect in the sack and magically disappears before
dawn. “Just haven’t found him yet.”
“Really?” she counters,
showing a touch of backbone my once-shy friend didn’t have a month
ago. “And none of them were worthy of your time after you slept with them, huh?”
A grimace twists my face
and I try to smooth my features. “It’s not like that—I swear.”
Secretly I fear it’s exactly like that. And what the hell does that say about me?
That I’m a slut? I’m not. I like sex but I don’t sleep with just
anyone like her darned unasked for list of faults implies. “They weren’t
good matches for me.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
“Why are we discussing
this…,” I gesture to the paper between us, “list of yours? I’m a careful woman. I always make sure they
use a condom. My instincts are good. I’ve never been in a situation
I couldn’t handle. What happened to make you think I needed—no wanted—your
input in my love life?”
Heather’s strength deflates
and I feel like I’ve kicked a puppy. “It’s because I care about
you, Carla, and want to see you happy. You keep up with this casual
approach to relationships and you’re going to be alone for the rest
of your life.”
A snort erupts from me.
“Like that’s a bad thing? I’m not afraid of being alone. In fact,
I’m quite all right with it.” I resist the urge, just barely,
to throw her words from a few weeks ago in her face. She was the one afraid of winding up alone and eating microwave
meals-for-one her whole life. Not me. Never me.
My goal has always been
to find an exciting, independent man—one who’s a great lover and wants
nothing emotional from me in return. I gaze out the window of our favorite
coffee shop, staring at the pelting rain washing the city streets. Maybe
my relaxed attitude would be better suited in Europe. Seems like the
Puritanical ideals of America are still going strong, no matter how
much women struggle with equality. If I were a guy no one would bat
an eye at my desire for a lover with no emotional attachments weighing
us down.
An exciting man who’s
good in bed. That’s not too much to ask is it? We’re in “the city
that never sleeps” for crying out loud. There’s got to be a
few guys who learned something in the sack since college, right? Maybe I can find
one who isn’t emotionally scarred from a long-term relationship and where
the woman taught him a thing or two. That would be hitting the relationship
lottery in my book.
Don’t forget good looking, great body, successful career, a big
dick…
Yeah, a girl can dream,
right?
Aware I need to get back
to work, I glance at my watch then gather the remains of my meal. We
say our goodbyes and I race into the rain, pulling up the hood on my
stylish raincoat for the three-block trek to the office.
Heather likes to forget—I’m
not like her. I’ve always known what I want in my life and in my bed. She and Tony met at the exact time she was ready
to blossom. My sexuality bloomed a long time ago and I quickly became
disappointed with the unknowledgeable lovers I invited into my bed.
Hell, when the first few trysts were a let down, why go back for more?
It’s pretty sad, really.
They all appeared to be so promising during our initial dates.
Despite Heather’s list
making me sound like a “good-time girl,” a phrase I hear a
lot from my mom, I actually practice a lot of decorum when choosing
a lover. They all have ambitious careers, their own apartments, aren’t
married, and know how to treat a lady with manners. I don’t have a
set laundry list of physical attributes the guy has to have, but I do
want a man who cares enough about his health and appearance to not be
slovenly or obese.
Unlike Heather, I never
sit on the sidelines waiting for life to come to me—I actively seek
adventure and always will. Who says a woman needs a man to be happy?
I’m happy as I am on my own. And I intend to keep it that way—not
hung up on a guy like my mom was with my dad. When he left us, she was
devastated and it changed her outlook on life forever.
Avoiding large puddles
and dangerous sidewalk grating, I wish I would’ve changed out of my
heels before dashing off to meet Heather. A short woman like me learns
the benefit of being on equal eye level in the advertising world. Doesn’t
hurt that I look great in them, too.
The awning to my building
appears and I gratefully step under it and push back my hood. I unzip
the coat and flap the sides, knocking off moisture before entering.
“Hey, Carla,” a masculine
voice calls from the doorway.
I look up to see one of
the company accountants holding the door for me. “Thanks, Andrew.”
I step through, avoiding eye contact with him.
He’s tried to make casual
conversation with me for months, and I’m always polite but careful
not to lead him on. I mean really, he’s an accountant. Could a job be more unexciting? Just stick him
in an IT position and buy him a ticket to the next Trekkie convention
in town.
One thing I’ve learned
while shopping for an exciting man—I won’t find one in a humdrum
job like his. I’m not saying Andrew is boring, he seems nice enough.
But his job sure as hell is unexciting, which decreases his chances
of being a stimulating guy by eighty percent.
While we walk across the
lobby to the elevators, I sense him fidgeting beside me, perhaps too
nervous to talk. I smother a smile at his awkwardness. Honestly, he’s
not bad looking—no beer gut and he dresses okay. Maybe I should hook
him up with Katrina from yoga class. She’s been on the prowl for a
decent man.
He clears his throat as
we step into the elevator. “Do you have time later to talk about the
Stringer account?”
My ears perk at the mention
of my largest client. “Of course. Is something wrong?”
The doors whisk closed
and we ascend to our floor. “No, nothing’s wrong. I was looking
over the latest numbers and think I’ve found a way to free up some
advertising money in their budget that isn’t working where it is now.
Might help you up-sell them to a larger ad space in the areas that are
working.”
“Sounds good.” I smile,
the first genuine one to grace my face since I met Heather for lunch.
“Your cubicle or mine?”
His blue eyes crinkle
at the corners as he returns my smile. “Come to mine, I’ll show
you the spreadsheets.”
Hours later I hang up
the phone with Jennifer Stringer, the owner of the largest independently
owned fabric distributor in the legendary New York garment district.
She was thrilled with Andrew’s findings and eager to pour fifty thousand
more into the current advertising campaign. We helped to increase her
business twenty percent in the last three months. Satisfaction for a
job well done warms me, filling me with a sense of completeness like
no encounter with a man ever has.
A sigh escapes as I relax
into my chair. Damn, talk about a long week. It’s Friday and after
five. I stifle the urge to chant TGIF and log off my computer, eager to shake the stresses of
the week from my shoulders.
IMs flew around the office
ten minutes ago and people are gearing up to meet at the bar down the
block for drinks. I freshen my lipstick, straighten my desk, and grab
my bag. Andrew stands the same moment I do and our eyes meet across
the cubical walls. “Are you going tonight?” I ask him.
Interest lights his eyes.
“Yup.”
He runs a hand through
his short brown hair, the gesture making him appear more confident.
Too bad he’s boring, he’s almost handsome. “Great, I owe you a
drink for that tidbit you shared after lunch.”
A small smile turns up
his mouth as he walks down the opposite aisle toward the door. “Just
one? Could have sworn my ‘tidbit’ helped you make your monthly
quota a week early.”
I laugh at his ballsiness.
“Maybe I’ll buy you two. But don’t get your hopes up.”
A spark ignites in his
blue depths as his gaze travels up and down my length. An awareness
tingles through me and I can’t deny, he looks different, somehow. He’s only a few inches taller than I
am in heels, which makes him a couple of inches shy of six-foot. His
shirtsleeves are rolled up to reveal corded forearms with a light dusting
of hair. With warm heat banked in his gaze, his average looks jump a
thousand points.
I brush off the sudden
interest spiking in my gut. I can’t let an office romance begin to
brew. I told Heather I wasn’t doing any of the things she accused
me of. No matter how much I might wish otherwise, I highly doubt a co-worker with benefits
is much different than the friends with benefits on her sheet.
As a large boisterous
group of our co-workers join us in the elevator, I resolve to steer
clear of any temptation offered by Andrew at the bar. No way in the
world could he be a good match for me.
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