Dirty Desires - Crystal Kaswell Page 0,109

enjoy. Disappears.

She's everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Never imposing, always friendly, always smiling. Skills I recognize. Skills I mastered a long time ago.

Skills I need right now.

I take a small sip. Bright espresso. Creamy milk. A hint of softness. But not enough to dull the bitterness.

Shepard looks down at me, the tiniest hint of curiosity in his eyes.

He wants something.

I shouldn't be here. It echoes through my head again, but it's too late. My body is already buzzing. It's already screaming for him, remembering every kiss, every touch, every fuck.

I uncross and recross my legs. It does nothing to ease the ache below my belly button, but it does draw his gaze.

His eyes flit to my tan skin.

He swallows hard. Steels himself.

"I'm on my lunch." I'm not sure what he wants. Only that he's confident he'll get it. Which is ridiculous. He's the one who hurt me. Why does he think I want anything to do with him? "I don't have a lot of time."

I know why. It's money. It's always money.

All the men I work with think the world revolves around them. Because it does.

Shep's family was well-off when we were kids. But now?

Now he owns half of Manhattan.

He can destroy me with the snap of his fingers.

Of course, I'm here.

Shepard takes a seat across from me. He folds one leg over the other, making a four with his limbs. Then he leans just a little closer. Just close enough I smell his soap.

Rich. Earthy. Money.

He's every part the distinguished professional. Navy suit, turquoise tie, brown dress shoes.

But there's a tiny hint of the boy I loved in his clear blue eyes.

"I have a proposition for you." His voice stays even.

I pretend as if I'm more interested in my drink. "Yes?"

His voice just barely softens. "I need a wife."

"A wife?" My heart thuds against my chest, drowning every thought in my brain. "You need a wife?" I repeat the words. They make even less sense this time.

He's twenty-five. He owns the hottest tech company on the market. He screams of power, money, control.

Filthy rich and incredibly handsome.

The body of an Olympic swimmer. The face of Prince Charming. There are ugly parts to Shepard, yes, but those scars are hidden beneath the surface.

They're—

"I need you, Jasmine," he says. "I need you to be my wife."

Get Dirty Husband Now

Author's Note

Most of my readers know me as “the queen of broken bad boys.” I wear the crown proudly). Bad boys are where I feel at home. Not so much because of their dirty-mouths or devil-may-care attitude or even their tattooed arms. Because they’re outsiders. Because they reject normal social conventions.

When I returned to the Dirty series (after a four year hiatus) to write Dirty Husband, I did it because I had to tell Shepard and Jasmine’s story. When I met Ian in Dirty Husband, I felt the same way. I needed to get in his head! Only, Ian didn’t want to let me into his head. He acted all cool and aloof, but he was guarded as hell. That was my way into the story. I knew exactly what Ian needed and exactly what would tempt him: an idea I’d been considering for a long time.

When I was in high school and college, I kept an online diary. It was the thing to do at the time. Xanga, Diaryland, Diary-X, Live Journal--they were huge and I had sites on all of them. I suppose you could say it was the original blogging, though my thoughts were much messier. They were for my sake. So I could sort through things. So I could strip out of my defenses and show off my naked pain and find someone who would call it beautiful.

When I thought about Ian--about his trust issues, his desire to completely understand someone while staying in control--I knew he was the perfect fit. And, as I started writing, I thought… well, I used to be in Eve’s place, why couldn’t Eve be someone like me?

Not me--it’s hard to write characters who are too much like you, there’s no perspective--but someone who identified with my values. Who fit into the roles I wear.

An outsider. A woman who doesn’t buy into social conventions. Who dyes her hair unusual colors even when it’s not the thing to do. Who wears whatever the fuck she likes. Who reads and criticizes unapologetically. Who sees media as something to understand and dissect. Who has no time for men who fail to respect her intellect.

The billionaire books I’d read--and the ones I’d written too--featured a variety of heroines. But never girls with purple hair and combat boots and an unapologetic love of feminist literature and thinkpieces about said literature. Never outsiders who rejected status symbols, who saw through commercialism, who didn’t want marriage or kids or a white picket fence. Never women like me.

I didn’t see myself in those books. I didn’t consider someone like me fitting into one of those books. But why not? If alternative girls can fall for tattoo artists and rock stars, why not handsome business men?

With this book, I wanted to bring a little Crystal Kaswell energy into the billionaire space. Readers know me for my bad boys. They talk about my tattoo artists. They talk about my rock stars. They do not talk about my business men. Blake and Nick don’t get a lot of attention. It’s frustrating sometimes--like when I was trying to promote Dirty Husband and Dirty Desires--but I understand. Dirty Deal and Dirty Boss have a different energy than my other books. I love them for what they are, but they aren’t as “Crystal Kaswell.”

Dirty Desires is my attempt to change that. To write a billionaire book that’s me that still appeals to readers of the niche. Hopefully, I achieved that. Hopefully, you’re dying for Ty’s story and reading my entire catalog in the meantime.

If not, that’s okay too. I am an outsider, after all. I want to make you feel something. Whether or not you like it--that’s a secondary concern.

I don’t hope you liked Dirty Desires. I hope you loved it, obsessed over it, need all of it, all the time.

If not, that’s okay too. There are lots of books and authors out there. I can only be me. And you can only be you. Let’s be the best versions of ourselves we can.

Love,

Crystal