Available now: Confessions of a Philanthropist (London Brown, # 4)

After years of being neatly boxed in the friend category, she offers me surrender. Or the semblance of it…

I’m Rhys Christos Edward Stowell, a philanthropist on the verge of exile from a suffocating state of corruption. My lack of conformity to perceived norms has earned me a reputation of being difficult. I rather like it that way.

Beguiled by a woman who uses the oldest profession to torture herself and punish those that love her, I’m ever her dutiful friend. But I want much more…





“Kiss me.” She trembled.

If she didn’t want the contact why had she requested it? I halted. “Are you sure?”


I planted a light peck on her cheek. The way we always did.

“A lover’s kiss,” she said.

Being referred to as her lover made me hard. I leaned in. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” Her eyes widened, she took hold of my blazer and pulled me closer.

Slowing my movement toward her, I cupped her neck with my fingers, and used my thumb beneath her jaw to angle her head upward. She stared into my eyes, as though attempting to read me. As I lowered my mouth to hers, I wrapped my other arm behind her waist and drew her flush to me.

She gasped.

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