on November 4th 2013 by Champagne Books
Genres: Adult, Romance, Thriller
Buy on Amazon
A sugar daddy can make your money woes disappear overnight. But for sugar babies, life is like a chocolate covered time bomb: sweet on the outside, deadly on the inside.
Young, beautiful, and hungry, Maire, Esme and Niki want what every woman wants: love, work, safe shelter, the bills paid off, a diamond-studded Rolex, and a two-bedroom condo with an ocean view. Working as sugar babies seems to be the only way to make this happen. But the sugar life is more dangerous than they thought.
Maire O’Rourke is too hot to handle herself properly. She tends to wear too tight clothes and too much make-up, but she’s got more than sex on her mind. She’s already landed one of the richest sugar daddies in Coconut City, a tropical paradise boasting more lonely men per multimillion dollar estate than just about anywhere else.
Sweet Esme Grant is a buxom blonde with a rough and tumble lover she’s left behind somewhere in hill country. She’s come to Coconut City in order to find herself a sugar daddy, a rich older man willing to fund her, along with her hometown boyfriend and their Mayberry-gone-bad
Niki Stephanopoulos, a dark, iconoclastic artist enrolled in a teaching certification program at Coconut College, struggles with depression fueled by guilt. She is embarrassed by her dependence on her family for the money she needs to survive. But she feels even worse after sleeping with her sexy, much older landlord when she’s short the rent.
Welcome to the secret lives of sugar babies. On the first day of the month, Maire, Esme and Niki struggle with overdue bills and sexy beaus. Readers can join them as they figure out ways to pay the rent, make decent love to indecent men, and stay upright on the rough road to happiness. Sugar Babies is a modern-day romance, a blue martini with a nasty twist. An intoxicating mystery steeped in social satire, the story of Esme, Niki and Maire is an all-American morality tale.
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Not that she wanted to make love to this man. She didn’t. Not at all. But for the first half-hour, she thought they might be able to negotiate an arrangement, and then her troubles would be over. Soon enough, however, her hopes flattened faster than the bubbles in her crystal champagne flute. He was hideous, yet here she sat, smiling sweetly, reminding herself to sit up straight, bust high and proud, displaying the obvious to the undeserving.
“I like a bright gal, one who can hold her own in a social setting, ask smart questions, be witty,” he said around greedy bites of bloody prime rib. “But she’s gotta keep her mouth shut when it’s not time to talk. See, I like a girl who carries herself like a lady, somebody I can trust to not say something stupid when I take her along on business.”
He pronounced it bidnez, like a ham actor in a grade B mob movie.
“You gotta be able to make conversation with the smartest guys in the room, but not take over the room. Got that?”
He smacked his lips, swallowed a chunk of meat. Glug. She had an unwanted image of his epiglottis at work. Very unpleasant. Still, he owned an international corporation, had homes in four countries, six (count ‘em, six!) Ferraris and a Gulfstream.
Esme smiled hard enough to make her dimples show. She brushed her long blonde hair from her eyes, leaned across the banquet table to allow him a deep gaze at her exceptional cleavage, and whispered, “I have an undergraduate degree in computer science. I’m fixin’ to get my master’s in business law. At Duke. My father is a retired diplomat. I do think I come across as educated. And well-bred.”
She drawled enough to make her invented-on-the-spot resume sound like a come on. Her date reached out a clammy hand, grasping her sun-bronzed forearm. His grip was hard, cold. When he bared his teeth in a wide grin, the mouthful of dull gray dental amalgam matched what was left of his greased back hair.
Esme let him play with her fingers. His thumb reminded her of undercooked pork sausage. She waved her free hand at their surroundings, the starched white tablecloths, the hushed waiters in stiff aprons, the four hundred dollar bottle of Dom Perignon Vintage 1995 in the silver ice bucket between them.
She said, “I like nice things, so I’m comfortable spending time with men who appreciate the finer aspects of life. Men who are educated and discriminatin’. Like yourself.”
Theatre classes would have been the logical prepatory courses for something like this. Had she only known what she’d actually need in life when she actually was in school. But she hadn’t known. How could she have predicted where life would take her?
He licked his thin blue lips. Like a mangy old lion examining a gazelle. On a plate. She shivered, but did not let go of his damp hand.
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