Falling for Jordan

A Different Kind of Love Novel

Book Cover: Falling for Jordan

No names. No numbers. Just one wild night with a gorgeous stranger and we’d go their separate ways. At least, that was the plan…


But that was before the accidental pregnancy and my little white lie about choosing to be a single parent by choice, before he showed up at my office after I'd written him off and life would never be the same again.

Some one-night stands are just that: one-night stands. But for transplant physician Addison Rowe, it means a baby and a story she’ll stick to about being a single mother – by choice. Besides, after last year's scandal involving her colleague Harlow James falling for the much younger Dax Drexel, the last thing Addison wants is another round of bad press for the office.

But when building contractor Jordan O’Halloran returns to New York after a year spent building schools in Southeast Asia, Addison will need to decide whether maintaining her reputation is more important than reuniting a father with the daughter he never knew, and maybe... falling in love.

But first, she'll have to navigate through a maze of intercultural family expectations and an ex-girlfriend who hasn't yet let go of her first love.

A light-hearted follow-up to the bestselling novelEverything She Ever Wanted, Falling for Jordan is the second book in A Different Kind of Love series that readers have called "moving," "rivetting," and "emotional." While the book can be read separately, it's best appreciated when read after Everything She Ever Wanted, book 1 of A Different Kind of Love series.

Published:
Excerpt:

“No more teasing, big boy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, a devilish grin brightening his handsome face. Copper hair, hazel-green eyes with a body made for sin, he’s the epitome of the perfect man I never knew I’ve been dreaming of all my life. A man whose touch and attention make me forget who I am, the doctor who works more hours a week than is good for her (especially her social life or lack of it), and at thirty-three, is speeding way past her expiration date.

Is she still beautiful? Is she still sexy? Have her boobs started sagging? 

But even if those boobs may already be heading south, no one has ever made me feel as beautiful and as sexy as he does right now with a look, a smile, a touch of his big strong hands. And for tonight, he’s all I want.

Right here, right now.

No names.

No numbers.

No one’s calling anyone in the morning or next week… or next month.

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Just tonight and then we go our separate ways when it’s over.

“You’re ready to go again,” he says, and it’s not a question. I smile like a Cheshire Cat, my body telling him everything he needs to know as he leans back and rolls a condom over his dick. Can I say it’s a gorgeous dick? It can win awards if they ever had awards for dicks somewhere. And if there aren’t, then I’ll have to make up one of my own, just like I made up the rules as I went along tonight.

Too angry to go home and stew after I walked out of my parents’ anniversary party, I’d decided to check out the first bar I saw on my way to Austin Street where I knew I could find a cab at the drugstore around the corner. I could have called for an Über, but I needed to get my anger out of my system. Why sit in someone’s car and force myself to do small talk all the way back to Chelsea when I could just walk it out?

Who knew I’d end up picking some random stranger in Queens, of all places? When was the last time I ever hung out in Forest Hills for that matter? Years? I usually hung out in Manhattan with my friends. The only friends I have in Queens are usually related to me or someone I grew up with. A relative, a high school friend. In my circle, everyone knows everyone. It’s why I left this town the first chance I could get, attending med school in Maryland before settling in Chelsea nine miles away so I could be closer to the hospital. It didn’t matter that my first place was a small box of a room where the only thing in it was a bed and a nightstand where I made my noodle ramen creations in a hotpot, to my mother’s horror. When you’re medical resident, it happens. You don’t have time for anything else and I sure as hell didn’t have any. I didn’t even have time to pick up guys, not that I wanted to. I even had someone for seven years until one day, I didn’t.

But this guy, the guy with the hazel-green eyes and the gorgeous dick is different. He’s temporary, nothing more. With him, I’ve broken all my rules of no one-night stands, not when I’ve always been the good girl, the one who always got straight-A’s in school and always did the right thing. Almost got married even.

But tonight, I’m not that good girl.

Tonight, I’m the girl spending one night with a gorgeous stranger who’s amazing in every way. Even his kisses are nothing I’ve ever felt before; it’s as if he’s exploring me with his tongue and memorizing everything about me, and when he looks at me with those soulful eyes, I swear I could get lost in them. I’ve also lost count of how many times I’ve orgasmed, as if I’m making up for lost time (because I am). With the sun’s rays slipping between the vertical blinds of his tenth-story apartment, it’s our third round of fucking and heaven knows I need sleep. I’m on call in a few hours.

But I want more.

Just one more.

“Turn over on your belly. I want you on your hands and knees,” he murmurs in my ear and I do as he says, feeling his hands grip my hip bones as he pulls me toward him with such force that I cry out with delight, not caring who can hear me. Already, we’ve raised the ire of his neighbors for our loud noises (mostly mine) when he went down on me like a man having his last meal. He’s good, so good I simply had to let go of any inhibitions and ride out every orgasm that hit me as he showed me lingual skills I’d only read about in the erotic romance novels I’ve downloaded on my phone.

I gasp when his glorious cock slams inside me. I’m barely thinking straight from all the sensations hitting me, flooding my system with all the endorphins my body has probably been saving up just for this day.  Gripping the sheets, I muffle my cries against the pillows. I love the feel of his fingers digging into my hips. I can’t get enough of the sounds we make, so primal, so beautiful. So perfect.

I need this. I want this.

And after tonight—or until I get up (if I can still walk after this) and leave–no one needs to know.

Tomorrow, I go back to my life and its regularly-scheduled programming, following up on patients, reading their charts, checking their electrolyte numbers… and being the good girl that I am.

Until I’m not.

But just for tonight.

No one will ever know.

COLLAPSE

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