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Contents

SEXY

XOXOXOXOXO

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Epilogue

END OF BOOK SHIT

Edited by RJ Locksley

Stalk Me

@jahuss

www.jahuss.com

Facebook/authorjahuss

Copyright © 2015 by J. A. Huss

All rights reserved.

ISBN-978-1-936413-91-1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

XOXOXOXOXO

 

Imagine the man of your dreams. The blue eyes. The unruly blonde hair. The perfect abs. How strong his muscular thighs feel as you dig your fingernails into the denim of his jeans.

Now imagine looking up to meet his gaze as he guides you towards his belt. Offers you a new life, a new destiny, a whole new world as he teaches you how to make him moan. Coaches you in the art of being sexy.

Would you say no? Could you say no?

Fletcher Novak is that perfect man and he just made Tiffy Preston the offer of a lifetime. And all she has to do is… everything he tells her.

Sexy is a full-length, standalone novel by New York Times Bestselling author, JA Huss.

Chapter One

 

“Life is a game and everyone’s a player. Whether you believe it or not, the only thing that matters is the score. I can help you score, Katie.”

The girl looks at me dubiously. She’s tall and beautiful, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile to die for. She works in her family’s corporate law office in San Francisco. She makes low six figures, gets four weeks of vacation a year, and has a small but desirable apartment in one of the best neighborhoods.

Most women would say she’s got it all. But you never know what’s on the inside. And right now, Katie is a mess.

“It feels like cheating, Fletch.”

Not everyone calls me Fletch, but all the girls I work with do. They see me as a friend. Someone on their side. A confidant. They share their innermost secrets and I listen. I’m there to wipe their tears. I hold hands, dish out praise, and cheer when they win.

And they always win. Because I’m a winner and everyone I take under my wing is a reflection of me.

“Katie, listen to me, sweetie. OK?” I place a fingertip under her chin and make those sad eyes meet my gaze. She’s been destroyed by an asshole she trusted, and today is the day that asshole overtakes all the years of praise and happiness and beats her down. She thinks it’s her fault he’s an asshole. That she wasn’t enough. But the truth I hammer home is that he’s not good enough for her.

This is my job. I take these women at their lowest and build them back up. She met me a few months ago through a mutual friend. I’m here to take that sting of defeat away and turn it into whatever it is she thinks she wants.

“I’m not just a player, Katie, I’m a professional. And for the right price I’ll guarantee you a win. You want Mr. Let Me Lick Your Abs to lick you back? I’m the chess piece. You wish Mr. Corporate Moneybags would buy you bling? I’ll put him on the game board. You need Mr. String You Along to get strung up with jealousy? We’ll checkmate together, baby, and he’ll never know what hit him. Think about it. A guaranteed win.”

“I’m just not sure he’s worth it.”

“Him? Jesus Christ, no, Katie. Not him. He’s an asshole. Sweetie, we’re talking someone brand new, OK? Anyone you want can be yours… if you sign the contract.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out, still undecided.

“I can do it,” I tell her. “I can change your life, make your dreams come true, and he’ll never even know he was played. But it all comes at a price. Because sexy doesn’t sell, sweetie. It’s for sale.”

“OK,” she finally says. “OK.” This time it comes with a smile. “I’ll do it. I’ll sign. Where’s the contract?”

Yes, I cheer silently. “Here you are, babe. Just read it over, initial each stipulation, and then sign at the bottom. And here”—I hand her a business card—“is the bank account number. As I explained before, I only accept wire transfers.”

My dressing room door opens and lets in a chorus of cheers from the ladies waiting to see the show. Mitch walks over to my rack of outfits and browses through it.

Katie is still reading her contract, but she’s not too worried about it. I’ve outlined it all in previous meetings and she comes from a long line of lawyers, so she knows legit when she sees it. She skims it, signs, then hands it back with a new hope shining through her sad depression. “This is gonna work, right?”

“I promise, sweetie. Or your money back.”

“OK, when do we start?”

“I’ll be in touch.” I take her hand and pull her to her feet. I bring her to me, just enough to make it personal, and lean into her neck so I can whisper, “Forget about him and think about me. For the next few months I’m your whole life and I won’t ever treat you like he did.”

She turns her head and kisses my cheek. “Thank you, Fletch. So much.”

I watch her ass as she walks out of my dressing room—because hey, I’m an ass man and I can’t help myself—and then gather up her contract and stuff it into my briefcase.

“Got another sucker, huh, Novak?” Mitch asks as he peruses my rack.

“Fuck off, you dick. And get your own costumes.”

He sighs. “The one I wear for my first gig was ripped off last week, remember? I haven’t had time to find a replacement.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna run this up to my room,” I say, holding up my briefcase. “Be back in ten.”

“Don’t be late. Chandler is in a shit mood tonight.”

I ignore that. I can handle Chandler. Besides, I’m the star of the show.

I open the door and again there’s a roar from the crowd as Chandler warms them up after our first group act. Steve goes solo first, then Bill. I come on third, the main attraction for fifteen whole minutes, and then Mitch and Sean finish it up before we all come back on stage for the finale.

I head away from the noise and slip through the backstage door. Not all the guys in the show have a suite at the Landslide Hotel and Casino Resort, only Chandler and me, since we’re the senior members of the cast. But it’s a damn good perk and comes with a private elevator to the North Tower penthouses where they comp rooms for the high-rollers.