30 Nights
The 30 Series, #2
The 30 Series, #2
by Christine d'Abo
Releasing
May 31st 2016
Kensington
Kensington
Baring
your body is simple--but baring your soul might just change everything
From The Book Junkie Reads . . . 30
Nights (The 30 Days, #2) . . .
College setting. Research assistance. Sexy sociology professor. Two book-minded people with an attraction to each other but dancing around the issue presented before them.
Glenna and Eric needs some serious wake up calls and personal time. The premise around them was good, but novel. This was a sweet, slightly naught read. Glenna has a whole new world open up to her with the passing of Great Glenna. She was granted the opportunity to explore a side of her that was not seen. All with the one man that has captured her attention of over a year.
I wont say this was the best read but I did enjoy.
**This ARC was provided via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.**
Blurb
The
last thing Glenna O'Donald expected to stumble upon in a cemetery was a pack of
index cards. And not just any cards--each one contains instructions for a
seriously kinky, no-holds-barred sexual encounter. Glenna, an over-analytical
research assistant by day, is suddenly tempted to conduct some nocturnal
experiments of her own. Especially when gorgeous university professor Eric
Morris offers to be her lab partner.
Soon
Glenna begins meeting with Eric once a week to try out the suggestions that
intrigue her most. In between those daring nights of sensual exploration are
work days filled with laughter and flirting…until Glenna fears she's getting in
too deep. For all the pleasure she's giving and receiving, Glenna wants more
than skin-on-skin interaction--and Eric realizes he's about to lose the
intimate connection he didn't know he needed. Can they find the courage to take
this game to the next level?
As
hot as it is heartwarming, Christine d'Abo's fresh, witty novel proves that
practice makes perfect, and that some games are worth playing…
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“I’m telling you, the staff barbecue is the
perfect place for you to talk to him.” She opened her lunch and the smell of
kimchi rice filled the room.
The him she was referring to was Professor
Eric Morris. The tall, dark-haired, super-fit sociology professor had a voice
that could melt hearts and drop panties with a simple hello. Professor Eric Morris, who had more female students in his
class than anyone else on campus. A man who rarely smiled, but when he looked
at you there was no doubt he not only saw you, but every thought and feeling
that flitted through your head. He starred in far too many of my nightly
fantasies for me to admit without sounding like a crazy, obsessed stalker.
The man, who in the
year and a bit that he’d been teaching at the college, I’d barely managed to
say two words to, because I was, as Jasmine put it, a coward.
“I love you like a
sister, Jaz. But there is no way I’m going to say anything to him. Ever.”
It was the Friday
before the Labor Day weekend, the last workday before the start of the school
year. Most of the professors from the college were gone, taking their last bit
of vacation to play golf, read, or do whatever their passions happened to be. I
loved working this time of year. The school was quiet. It always felt as though
someone had taken a deep breath and were waiting to exhale. A collective pause
before the chaos to come.
This year was going
to be especially awesome. Professor Mickelson, my boss, had already been away
for three months on his semester-long sabbatical. I still had four more months
of only communicating with him via e-mail. Heaven!
“Are you insane?”
Jasmine threw her napkin at me. “This is the perfect time for you to do it. He’ll
be there. You’ll be there. Your crazy boss won’t
be there. You might even be able to relax and have fun for once.”
She was my best
friend in the whole wide world, but there were times when Jasmine scared the
shit out of me. I looked down at my hands and picked at the dry skin around my
nail. “I just can’t.”
“What’s the worst
that can happen? He’ll say no. At the very least you’ll have an answer and you
can move on to someone else.”
A grad student
chose that moment to come into the kitchen. He didn’t even look at us as he
made his way to the coffee machine. I leaned forward to close the distance
between me and Jasmine. “I’m quite happy with my fantasies, thank you.”
“I bet you are. I
bet you dream about climbing up his body and licking every inch of his skin.”
The grad student
looked at us wide-eyed before he spun away quickly. I got the impression he was
still listening, no doubt wanting to get some dirt that could be passed around
the student lounge. Great, like I needed that
kind of attention.
I nodded my head in
the direction of our friend. “Can you keep your voice down a bit?”
“Not if you’re not
going to listen to my advice.” She leaned back and crossed her arms, her eyes
locked onto mine. “You need to make a move before someone else snatches him
up.”
Now the grad
student wasn’t even pretending that he wasn’t paying attention. Jasmine must
have picked up on it too, because in the next instant she turned around and
glared at him. “Don’t you have someplace to be, Stuart? Like running your
tutorial?”
“Ah, yeah. Yes.”
For a moment I thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head.
“Then move your
ass.” Jasmine pointed at the door and narrowed her gaze.
I’d never seen a
person move that quickly before in my life.
When she turned her
glare back on me, I knew I wasn’t going to be spared anything. “Glenna, I know
you don’t believe me, but this is the truth. You are not meant to be alone. You
and Eric would be cute together. He’s serious, you’re serious. Just think about
what sex would be like with him. Jesus, if I weren’t gay even I’d be tempted to
take him for a ride my-self.”
And there was a
mental picture I so didn’t want—my best friend and my crush fucking.
“I hate you.” I
pulled my tuna sandwich out of my container and took a giant bite. “He doesn’t
even know I’m alive. Saying hello to him at the barbecue isn’t going to do
anything to help get him into my bed.”
“Well, you can’t
expect him to fuck you if you can’t at least have a simple conversation.” She
took a big bite of her kimchi and waved her fork around. “Maybe you can get
drunk and then grope his ass. Then you’d have to go apologize. There might be
groveling. ‘Oh, please Eric, how can I ever make it up to you?’” She batted her
eyelashes at me before laughing. “You should see your face.”
“You’re an asshole.
Why are we even friends?”
“Because I showed
you how to shotgun a beer our first week of college.”
“Only after I saved
your ass with that essay.”
But as she knew, my
brain does this thing that as soon as someone puts a thought out there I can’t
help but picture how things will work out, all the way to their natural
conclusion. In my head I saw myself at the party. Eric would walk by on his way
to the food table or something. I’d “accidentally” bump into him as he passed
me and look into his eyes all surprised. Maybe I’d even spill a drink on
myself. He’d think he’d done it and would help me clean myself.
I’m sorry, Glenna. How can I make up for
this?
Oh nothing. It was an accident.
I can’t stand by while I’ve done you
wrong. At least let me give you a clean shirt.
I’d blush, of
course, because who wouldn’t. Thank you.
Why don’t you take mine? His voice would
be that low rumble that always seemed to turn me on. His eyes would be locked
onto me as he’d slowly unbutton his shirt.
Wow, Eric. Your chest is so firm.
Would you like to see the rest of me?
And bam,
crazy-monkey sex!
If only.
I cleared my throat
and quickly took another bite of my sandwich. “I don’t think Eric likes anyone.
Or has sex. Or anything. He’s always on his own.”
“Baby, I’ve seen
that man. He’s having sex. As much as he wants with whomever he wants to do it
with. I keep telling you all you need to do is go after him.”
“He doesn’t know
I’m alive,” I said again. And I was essentially a coworker. That went against
so many things on my mental “don’t touch” list I couldn’t fathom it.
“Whose fault is
that? Not his. If you want someone then you need to do something about it. Life
doesn’t reward the cautious.”
“Sometimes it
does.”
“You don’t believe
that.”
I hated when she
was right. “Maybe.”
“You’re a research
assistant who lives in the world of studies and observations. Talk to him—hell,
I was serious about the groping. I’m sure you could chalk this up to some
exception-ally hands-on research project.”
“God, you’re a
child sometimes. I don’t need a man to fulfill me when I have a perfectly good
vibrator at home to help—”
“Baby, all you do
is masturbate.”
“—live out my fantasies. I’d be scared that
the reality would never live up to the imaginary Eric that I’ve created in my
head.”
It was in that
moment that my skin began to tingle. We were still alone in the kitchen, but I
could have sworn someone was there. It was probably Stuart standing outside in
the hall trying to get some more dirt. Well, he was out of luck because I was
done being browbeaten by Jasmine.
“I need to get back
soon. Professor Mickelson left me a pile of books to pull and outline for him.
He’ll be chasing me through e-mails if I’m not done soon.”
Thankfully, she
sighed, signaling the end of her teasing. “When does the old goat get back?”
“He’s off all term,
but he’s threatened to come back around the end of October for a check-in. Then
I’m sure he’ll have me buried in another bunch of new projects before the next
term starts.”
“I’d better head
out too. I have a one-thirty meeting. Apparently the CS profs want to do a
study on online learning again. I have to pull some old case studies so they
don’t rehash an old thesis.”
“Blah.”
The echo of our
chairs scraping as we stood filled the room. One second I was picking up my
garbage and taking it to the garbage can, and in the next I was face-to-face
with the object of my lust.
Professor Eric
Morris stood in the doorway, coffee mug in hand. Well, stood isn’t quite the right description. It’s more like he loomed. He’s probably only a smidgen
over six feet tall, but being only five foot four myself, it makes for a huge
difference from my perspective. Mind you, being eye level with his chest was no
hardship. His dress shirts fit him perfectly, but they couldn’t hide the
muscles beneath. As usual, I was paying more attention to his pecs—Were they
really as firm as they looked?— rather than his face. That was why I didn’t
immediately notice him staring at me. Which he totally was.
And there was my blush. “Umm, hi,
Professor Morris.”
Woot, go me! I finally spoke to him.
“Glenna.”
God, his voice! It was a lot lower than any other man’s voice that
I knew and had a way of seeping into my body when he spoke. Could the sound of
a voice be an aphrodisiac? If so, then I could listen to him read the phone
book and probably have an orgasm.
Jasmine cleared her
throat and I realized that we’d been standing staring at each other for longer
than was normal. I looked at the garbage in my hand and then at the garbage can
directly behind him. “Umm, sorry. I just need to . . .”
I’d half-expected
him to move to the side so I could reach it. Instead he stayed put, forcing me
to step awkwardly around him. I clamped my mouth closed as I moved so he
wouldn’t be subjected to the stench of my tuna breath. As I brushed past him, I
got a nose full of his aftershave. It wasn’t a brand that I knew, but he
smelled awesome and it always made me a bit giddy when he was nearby. I could
always tell when he’d been in a room, my nose keenly aware of his lingering
scent.
It was only after I
finally dropped my garbage into the bin that Eric moved over to the coffee
machines. I wasn’t a close colleague to him and hadn’t worked on any of his
projects since he’d come to the school, so I didn’t have much I could say to
him. Not that he was particularly easy to speak to with his back to us. I
scampered over to the table and grabbed my things. “I need to stop and get some
paper for my printer.”
“Cool.” Jasmine was
clearly trying to fight off a laughing fit. “Want to grab a coffee before we
go? You look like you could use one.”
I’m going to kill her. “No, I’m good for
now.”
Just before we left
the kitchen, Jasmine piped up. “Have a great day, Professor Morris.”
“You as well, Ms.
Houng, Glenna.”
Yes, she was going
to die in the most painful way possible.
Somehow I managed
to keep my mouth shut until we were out of earshot. “I hate you.”
“Are you kidding
me? For a second I thought he was going to throw you over the table and fuck
you in front of me.”
“You’re high. He
doesn’t know me.”
“Don’t be so
dramatic. He knew your name, which means he knows who you are. And you couldn’t
see his face the way I did. Not only does that boy know you’re alive, but he’s
interested.”
“Whatever.” She was
just trying to get me going. He couldn’t be interested.
As we were about to
turn the corner, I looked back down the hall toward the kitchen. Eric was
standing there, coffee cup in his hand, staring back at me.
He wasn’t
interested, was he?
Until today I didn’t
even think he remembered my name.
We were almost back
to the office when I heard my cell phone ringing. I missed it, but when I
finally got to my desk and checked, I saw that there were four missed calls
from my mom. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
Jasmine turned her seat to face me.
“Not sure yet. Sec.
Hey, Mom. Sorry, I was at lunch.”
“Glenna, hon.” It
took no time to realize that she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong? Is
it Dad?”
“No, your father’s
fine. It’s Great Glenna.”
I closed my eyes
and felt the blood drain from my face. “Oh no.”
“She’s in the hospital, but the doctors aren’t
sure she’s going to make it through the night. Can you come?”
“Where are you?”
“They took her to
St. Joseph’s.”
“I’m on my way.”
Jasmine was on her
feet standing in front of me when I hung up. “Hon, what’s wrong?”
“It’s my
great-grandmother. She’s dying.”
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Author Info
Christine
d’Abo is a romance
novelist and short story writer, with over thirty publications to her name. She
loves to exercise and stops writing just long enough to keep her body in motion
too. When she’s not pretending to be a ninja in her basement, she’s most likely
spending time with her husband, daughters, and her two dogs.
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