Double the Pleasure (Prescott Twins, Book 1)
“Ross and Kristin set the sheets on fire in this sizzling romance!”Sensual Romance
An excellent afternoon read that will leave you laughing and your heart warmed at the end. W.O.W
Winner of the Lories Contest!
One night, one chance, but will she have the courage…
Hitting the big 3-0 birthday like a brick wall, shy, reserved Kristin Prescott just has to break out of her sensible shoes and buttoned-up blouses and find herself a man. And the only one who will do is Ross Sloan, her sexy boss. The problem is, she isn’t Ross’s type; he prefers sensual, seductive women like her identical twin. But, Kristin isn’t sure she can let go of her inhibitions.
Unless she pretends to be her sister.
Ross Sloan has lusted after his secretary, Kristin Prescott, since the moment she walked into his office. When she seduces him while playing the role of her twin sister, he sees through her masquerade immediately. But Ross wants both sides of Kristin: the prim, efficient woman who runs his office and the passionate woman she exposes in the guise of her sister. Forcing Kristin to release her inhibitions and claiming the desirable woman beneath the facade becomes his ambition.
But will the pleasure cost them their business relationship? Or can they have both?
Buy Now!
What Readers Are Saying:
Excerpt
© 2012 Jasmine Haynes
Chapter One
“I think, for your thirtieth birthday, you should seduce a man.”
Kristin Prescott blushed and said a little thank-you prayer that the only other occupant of the steam room had vacated moments before Kirby’s declaration.
Kristin tried to sound flip. “It’s your birthday, too. You do the seducing.”
“My darling sister, I have a vibrator, I don’t need a man. You, on the other hand—”
“I don’t need a vibrator or a man.” Okay, so maybe she needed both, the man definitely more than the vibrator. Sweat dripped off Kristin’s nose, steam pumped from the valve, and the overpowering scent of eucalyptus made it hard to breathe.
Kirby went on relentlessly. “You’ve got to repair your self-esteem.”
“My self-esteem?” A nasty telltale squeak laced her voice.
“Kristin, you’re sadly lacking in the confidence department.”
“I’ve got plenty of confidence.” Not.
“Sure, in your job you do. But get you around a pack of hot-looking guys, and you let yourself fade into the wallpaper.”
Kristin rubbed perspiration from her forehead. “You’ve got me there. I can’t deny it.”
“That’s why you haven’t been on a date since Blake...left.”
“You can say he dumped me.” Her fiancé had given her the heave-ho over six months ago. It wasn’t that Kristin wasn’t over him, she was, it was just... “I haven’t found anyone interesting.”
Except Ross Sloan. Her boss. All he noticed about her, though, were her flawless memos and intricate spreadsheets. She didn’t think he even knew her first name.
Kirby snorted, but didn’t comment on Kristin’s little evasion. “Did I ever tell you what an asshole your ex-fiancé was?” The sisters thought differently about sex, career, marriage, everything, but Kirby was loyal.
“And I love you for saying that.”
Still, Blake’s final crack had slipped beneath Kristin’s skin like a nasty sliver.
Why can’t you be hot and sexy like your twin sister?
The answer was right beside her. Kirby, naked, stretched out on her stomach, her towel draped over the tile beneath her; Kristin, primly seated on the step above, her own towel wrapped tightly, covering her from armpits to thighs. They were identical twins, but in looks alone; their manners and personalities were completely opposite.
With his last words to her, Blake hit Kristin smack dab in the middle of her biggest insecurity—she didn’t have what it took to be anything like Kirby, except on the outside. She wasn’t sexy. She wasn’t hot. But she didn’t dislike sex the way Blake had accused. In fact she’d imagined...yes, she could say the words in her head, she’d thought of going down on Mr. Sloan. In his office.
“Well, forget the little bastard.”
She didn’t think her boss would turn out to be little in any sense of the word. Oh! Kirby was still talking about Blake.
“He was too short for you anyway. And balding. You were way too good for him.” Image was all-important to Kirby. “You’ve just let that whole business beat you down.
“He didn’t beat me down,” Kristin protested.
He’d merely caught on to something she’d known since her first time during college, that she wasn’t good at sex. She hadn’t given him complete satisfaction. She certainly hadn’t found it for herself. Still, in her fantasies, Kristin was like her sister. She did all sorts of toe-tingling sexual things. With her boss. Those thoughts actually made her hot, and she didn’t have any trouble melting into orgasm.
Kirby studied her. “Have it your way. Blake didn’t beat you down. But did he ever make you climax? Even once?”
“Kirby.” There’d been a few, but none particularly memorable.
Nothing like the remarkably memorable ones she’d had while fantasizing about Mr. Sloan, no vibrator necessary.
“Kristin,” her sister mimicked her tone. “Which means he didn’t, right?”
She and Kirby had never really discussed her sexual relationship with Blake. Kirby would have had all sorts of great advice, the first being that the lack of sparks under the covers wasn’t all Kristin’s fault, and Kirby would have been right. Kristin knew that intellectually, but get her heart to believe it? Not an easy accomplishment. Especially when her insecurity problems started with comparing herself to her sexy, hot, over-the-top, confident sister in the first place.
“Could we please talk about something else?”
Kirby spread her hands. “You know what they say. When a horse dumps you, you have to get right back in the saddle and ride again. You need to start dating.”
The old adage that time healed all wounds—as bad a cliché as Kirby’s—was also completely wrong. The longer Kristin waited to hop back into the dating arena, the worse the fear of failing once again.
When Kristin didn’t comment, Kirby rolled onto her back and crossed her legs at the ankles, not indicating an ounce of embarrassment with her nudity.
“Kristin, we’ve got to break out of the rut we’re in.”
Thank God for the change of topic. “We? What is it you want to change?”
“My wardrobe.”
“Your wardrobe?” Kristin echoed, suddenly confused.
“Yes. I’m going to throw out that little red dress. You know, the one you salivated over at Neiman Marcus last New Year’s.”
“I didn’t salivate.” Kristin had.
“You said it cost too much”—it certainly did—“but you know you just thought it was too sexy for you. Which is ridiculous.”
“If I’d worn it, I’d have looked ridiculous. It was too red, too glitzy, too...not me.” Still, she’d adored the sequined bodice and the full, flirty skirt.
She’d wanted that dress badly; only she hadn’t bought it because she’d been comparing herself unfavorably to Kirby. Again.
“You can have it if you want it. Otherwise, I’m sending it to the consignment store.” That was a lie. Kirby was using reverse psychology. “But if you take it, you have to wear it to our birthday party Friday night.”
Ah, the punchline. It was really Kirby’s birthday party, she was throwing it herself. But she’d added Kristin’s name to the invitation. Kristin had chosen the half-day celebration she and Kirby were having right now: a morning off work, a lovely brunch, a good facial, a steam bath. And no need for a stunning red dress.
“I couldn’t wear it.” Could she? Kristin took a deep breath of eucalyptus. If push came to shove, maybe. She needed a push. And a shove.
“There’s going to be tons of gorgeous men there.” Kirby glanced at her. “You can practice your seduction techniques.”
“I don’t have any techniques.”
She could, however, use the stuff of her fantasies. If she found a man who reminded her of Mr. Sloan.
Kirby grimaced. “You’ll learn quickly enough. If you’ve got any balls when it comes to men, that is.”
Kristin would have laughed if Kirby’s words hadn’t been so on target. “I have tons of...cajones.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire. She was turning thirty, and she didn’t even have the courage to put on a sexy dress. Pitiful.
“Chicken,” Kirby couldn’t seem to resist adding.
How long could she go on being afraid of a little red dress? A year? Ten years? Fifty years, living with nothing but fantasies, her body aging, gravity taking over, biological clock in overdrive? Oh. No. The thought was more debilitating than the idea of seducing a room full of Kirby’s gorgeous men. She wouldn’t be merely an old maid, she’d be a shriveled husk. God forbid.
Could she get back on the horse? Actually, the question was more about what her life would become if she didn’t?
“All right, I’ll wear the dress.” She’d find the cajones somewhere. “And I want to borrow the shoes that go with it, too.”
Maybe someday she’d even have the courage to wear something equally provocative to work to see if Ross Sloan finally noticed her. Maybe, just maybe, his eyes would pop out and he’d ask what her first name was.
