Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I’ve built a successful career helping men get the women they desire while schooling them in the lost art of respect and chivalry.
It’s much more than a job to me. I live my life by those same principles.
I’m polite and generous, and I always call after spending the night with a woman.
But don’t be mistaken – this gentleman still knows exactly where to kiss, bite, lick, and touch.
I’m William Knight.
Professional Wingman. Master of Sex. The Dating Doc.
My official title is Personal Advisor. At least, that’s what my business card says.
I believe I have it all. Money. Power. Respect.
Until I meet her.
Opal Waverly is the game changer. She’s smart, witty as hell, and she’s kind. She’s the type of kind that sneaks into your heart and cracks it open far enough that love slips in.
Hear that? That’s me waxing poetic while I drown my sorrows in a glass of scotch because Opal is the object of another man’s desire.
And he’s paying me an obscene amount of money to make her fall in love with him.
Author’s This breathtakingly refreshing romance does not contain any cheating or a love triangle
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
William
“If you ask me to go home with you, I will.”
I shift my gaze to the right so it lands on the woman who just uttered those words to me. She’s cute. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and full lips covered in a pink shimmery gloss are what I notice first.
The tight black dress she’s wearing fits the occasion. I’m at a fundraiser because I do my part to contribute when needed. Tonight, it’s a gala to benefit an off-Broadway theatre organization. The host is a man I did business with two years ago. The woman he married last month is a fan of the arts, so he took on the role of raising money even though he can cut a check for millions, and it wouldn’t leave a dent in his bank account.
“What do you say, handsome?” The woman next to me trails a finger up the sleeve of my tuxedo jacket.
I say no.
It’s not because she’s not desirable. The woman is attractive, but there’s a tan line wrapped around the ring finger of her left hand. She’s either married and looking to score some tall, dark-haired, chiseled-jaw handsomeness on the side, or she’s recently divorced. She could be a widow, but I doubt like hell she’s in mourning.
She saddles up closer to me at this makeshift bar in the corner of the ballroom at one of Manhattan’s most luxurious hotels.
“Do you have a roommate?” Her finger reaches the top of the collar of my white button-down shirt. “I can get us a room here if that’s the case.”
I turn to give her my full attention because women deserve that.
Her gaze skims over my face.
I’m better looking than most men in this room. That’s not my ego talking. I know I was blessed when it comes to good bone structure.
I’m gifted in other ways, but she won’t enjoy that tonight.
“I’m flattered.” I flash her a smile to lessen the blow of the next words out of my mouth. “I’m not interested.”
I could have played it kinder and told her I’m tired or in a committed relationship.
Both the former and the latter are lies.
I don’t see the point in lying to a woman who is putting herself out there. She’s being straight with me by telling me she wants me. I’m being clear with her by explaining she’s not what I’m looking for.
“What do you mean you’re not interested?” She arches her back to bring her ample tits into the conversation.
My gaze drops to the low cut neckline of her dress because breasts…but I shift back to eye contact immediately. “I’m not interested in fucking you tonight.”
“Ohhhh,” she drags that one-syllable word out. “You’re busy tonight, so another night works better? I’m free tomorrow.”
She’s making this harder than it needs to be, and I’m not talking about my dick. It’s still taking it easy. Nothing about her is getting a rise out of me.
“I’ll never be interested.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “Why not?”
I imagine men would come running if she snapped her fingers, but I’m not one of them. “I know what I’m looking for, and you’re not it.”
“I could be,” she says hopefully. “I’m not interested in more than one night.”
I have enough experience with women to know that there’s a good chance she’s not being completely honest. The tan line on her ring finger suggests she was interested in more than a one-night stand at some point in her life; some recent point in her life.
If I take her to bed, she’ll want more.
Again, my ego is not driving this train, but women love good sex. They dream about great sex, and when they get phenomenal sex, they latch on.
I’m a notch above phenomenal.
I carefully pick and choose the women I sleep with. I vet them, if you will, so when we say goodbye after we’ve had fun, they aren’t going to chase me down looking for more.
My work keeps me too busy for a social life, and my choice to not commit to one woman means there’s a permanent lasso wrapped around my heart.
I’m self-aware. I’m not strolling through life avoiding a relationship because I have issues that date back to my childhood.
To put it simply, I’m happy living alone. I’m happier when I’m fucking different women.
There’s no need to delve deeper than that.
“When was your divorce finalized?” I question.
Her gaze drops to her hand. “What?”
“Your marriage ended when?”
“It’s not officially over.” She rolls her eyes. “We separated last week.”
Nodding, I scan the room. “Is this your first time out since you two called it quits?”
Her shoulders slump forward. “Yes, and it’s hard.”
“What’s your name?” I’m not interested in knowing this woman, but she wants to feel something from me. Outright rejection will sting. I sense that’s the last thing she needs right now.
“Holly.” Her smile brightens. “What’s your name?”