No one finds their true love on Tinder…right?
I’m a strong, independent woman. Or that’s what I want to be. And I could be…if not for one distraction…Chase Elliot.
My former friend with benefits and I have enough chemistry to keep a laboratory bubbling. But even after he proposes, I wonder if real romance between a girl like me and a billionaire’s son is even possible.
Also in the mix are multiple misunderstandings, family drama, and the ghosts of Tinder dates past.
Why didn’t anyone tell me the road to happily ever after could be so damn bumpy?
I never intended to get married. My father had other ideas.
If I didn’t settle down, he’d cut me off. And because fake marriages and marriages of convenience seemed torturous, I thought of Ivy.
She’s gorgeous, smart, and sexy. And she’s the only one I can imagine calling my own. That’s why I proposed.
I maybe should’ve told her about my father’s ultimatum first.
So…what’s a guy to do when he blows up the best thing that ever happened to him? Asking for a friend…
In League with Ivy is a Stand-alone friends-with-benefits Steamy Romantic Comedy. Available on Kindle Unlimited.
- ASIN : B09S9XYK21
- Publication date : March 19, 2022
- Language : English
- ISBN: 9798432951977
- Print length : 425 pages
Find it on Amazon: http://mybook.to/InLeaguewIvy
Love In League with Ivy and want more? Check out the Up The Ladder, a novella by signing up for JJ Sorel’s newsletter: https://jjsorel.com/free-gift/
And find more of her work on her website: http://www.jjsorel.com and on Amazon.
After graduating with a major in English lit, I’d started working at Mad Love mainly because I didn’t want to work for free in an internship.
Two years later, I was still there. I loved clothes. And my mother was a good boss. She paid me well, and she allowed me time off to work on my blog, The Young and Reckless, about entitled Manhattan millennials and their fad diets, clothing faux pas, and juicy gossip.
So far, I’d only designed a pretty heading and a promising mission statement on the “About” page.
Yep. Short attention span, that was me.
I just had to kick this Chase Elliot habit.
How else was I to become that independent, successful woman I’d dreamed of being? As a teenager, I’d been inspired by kick-ass heroines like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Xena the Warrior Princess.
My phone buzzed, and Chase’s playful smile appeared, making my lips curl.
“I’m free tonight,” he texted.
I stared down at the screen as though he’d sent me one of those inane pick-the-rabbit’s head-among-the-crowd puzzles or some other stupid thing he’d found on the net.
Chase had a ton of time to waste— one of the many advantages of being filthy rich
My mood thawed a little. I almost forgot that I’d just seen my mother with my ex.
But then jealousy pricked at my chest again.
Chase was on Tinder chasing skirt. Other skirts. Not mine. Even though I rarely wore skirts.
Instead of sending him a photo of myself in lacy lingerie, I ignored his text, which took the strength of The Rock.
I just wanted to wrap myself around Chase’s buff body like an octopus and suck on every part of him.
He was definitely an addiction.
Maybe I need rehab to help wean me off Chase Elliot.
After Ben Parsons cheated on me with my best friend, who no longer owned that title, I’d clammed up where feelings were concerned.
Screaming through an orgasm or even ripping a little flesh while in the throes of pleasure was one thing, but opening up my heart was another.
That was why I’d pushed Chase away that first time we’d met, a year ago. That hadn’t been easy. At all. Along with stamina, Chase also possessed heaps of bone-melting charm.
But from the word go, everywhere we went, there was some girl who knew him, rolling her tongue over her lips or whispering in his ear while practically sucking on his lobe.
So I’d ended it, cried my eyes out for a week, then moved on. Eight months later, Chase had snuck back into my life following one crappy date after another.
While I was weak and needy, I’d run into him at his favorite bar, Absinthe. And when he’d asked me why I kept ignoring his texts, I’d told him I didn’t want to be his fuck buddy.
Twenty minutes later, that was exactly what I became.
All it took was his expert tongue, and I went to liquid.
My mother said my chakras needed balancing, but then she would. New Age mumbo jumbo motivated her every waking moment. At least she didn’t drink or take heavy drugs, apart from the odd trip here and there when she celebrated the solstice.
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