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Megan Hart
I pay strangers to sleep with me. I have my reasons. . . . But they're not the ones you'd expect. For starters, I'm a funeral director taking over my dad's business. Not exactly the kind of person you'd expect to fork over cash for the lust and urgency only live skin-to-skin contact can create. Looking at me, you wouldn't have a clue I carry this little secret so close it creases up like the folds of a fan. Tight. Personal. Ready to unravel in the heat of the moment.Unsurprisingly, my line of work brings me face-to-face with loss. So I decided long ago that paying for sex would be one of the best (and arousing) ways to save myself from the one thing that would eventually cut far too deep. But Sam was a mistake. Literally. I signed on to «pick up» a stranger at a bar, but took Sam home instead.And now that I've felt his heat, his sweat and everything else, can I really go back to impersonal? Let's just hope he never finds out about my other life. . . .
Megan Hart
I’m on a train. I don’t know which stop I got on at; I only know the train is going fast and the world outside becomes a blur. I should get off, but I don’t.The universe is playing a cosmic joke on me. Here I had my life – a good life with everything a woman could want – and suddenly, there is something more I didn’t know I could have. A chance for me to be satisfied and content and maybe even on occasion deliriously, amazingly, exuberantly fulfilled.So this is where I am, on a train that’s out of control, and I am not just a passenger. I’m the one shovelling the furnace full of coal to keep it going fast and faster. If I could make myself believe it all happened by chance and I couldn’t help it, that I’ve been swept away, that it’s not my fault, that it’s fate… would that be easier? The truth is, I didn’t know I was looking for this until I found Will, but I must’ve been, all this time.And now it is not random, it is not fate, it is not being swept away.This is my choice.And I don’t know how to stop.Or even if I want to.
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