  Relationships are for the weak. Those individuals who have a problem being just that … individuals, people who can’t fathom standing on their own two feet and not being defined by another human being. I’m not, nor have I ever been, one of those people. I’m me. Nothing more, nothing less. You can take it or leave it, but usually, they take it. And I proudly give it. Every. Last. Inch. Companionship only lasts as long as it takes me to leave my card on the counter as I’m leaving before she wakes up. My name’s Dexter MacFadden. What’s your number?     Prologue – This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up in a stranger’s bed, lying next to a woman I don’t recognize, in a city I can’t remember. Ibiza? Paris? London? The only thing I know for sure is that I’m in Europe somewhere. Quietly exiting the bed, I search around on the floor for my pants and shirt. Looking over my shoulder, the same scene that’s played before me so many times is no different—gorgeous woman, half covered by a sheet, hair perfectly mussed and her arm draped where I was just warming her sheets. I could probably wake her and judge by her accent where I am, but then I’d actually have to engage in conversation with her and I’d rather slip out into the early morning light. Being only a mediocre partner, I’ll never know who she is, nor will she know me. It kind of works out good this way, though. No need for awkward goodbyes, uncomfortable calls and broken promises of meeting up again sometime. I crack the bedroom door, fully clothed, ready to make my escape into the night when the woman starts moving. Slowly taking my hand off the handle and holding my breath, I wait for her to roll away, facing the opposite wall and giving me a glimpse of her tight, pert ass and reminding me what made me want to fuck her to begin with. When I’m safely on the other side of the door, I pause at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. Pulling out my cell, I text my driver with the GPS coordinates and request him to pick me up as soon as possible. His reply is almost immediate. Spotting my jacket and shoes next to the sofa, I throw them on and pull a business card from the breast pocket. Just because I don’t want to have the awkward conversation about where our ‘relationship’ is heading, that doesn’t mean someone won’t speak with her. My system—the one I’ve developed over the years—works flawlessly. I’m a callous prick, but they know that going in; they just think they’ll be the one to save me from my foolish ways. Writing a number four on the back of the card, I leave it on the counter and slip out the front door without a second thought. See, this is how it will go. The unknown brunette will wake up in a few hours from her orgasm-induced coma and notice me missing. The first thing she’ll do is check the bathroom. When she realizes I’m not in there, she’ll make her way to the kitchen, undoubtedly thinking she’s cured whatever she assumes is wrong with me and I’m cooking her breakfast. Her shoulders will slump and the smile will fade as she comes to the conclusion that I’m already gone. Then she’ll see the business card and all hope will be restored. She’ll call the number while practicing her sexy, husky, bedroom voice. As my answering service comes across the line, she’ll ask to speak with me. She’ll be told that I’m on location for a job and am unavailable to speak with at the current time, and then be asked to give the number on the back of the card. She’ll flip over the card, see the four and tell the person on the other end of the line, who in turn recites a very specific script. “Ma’am, I’d first like to thank you for calling. Dex will be quite busy for the next few months to come, traveling for business.†That part isn’t a lie. Being one of the most sought after photographers in the world, I’m in high demand and spend a great deal of my time shooting across the globe. “We’d like to thank you on his behalf for the enjoyable evening, and if Dex is ever in this part of (enter country, state or province here) he’ll attempt to contact you.†However, for any woman ranking under a seven, the service doesn’t actually collect any of their information for me to contact them again. It’s more to keep me safe from the crazies—the women that think because they spread their legs, they’re entitled to a next meeting. For these women, the six and unders, it’s a way of pacifying them so I don’t get stalked down and harassed. These women usually get pretty irritated when they can’t speak directly to me. I’ve instructed the calling service to have no problems terminating the call and blocking the number from ever being able to call again. Of course, with the array of women I entertain, nearly all of them feel used by this emotionless encounter and end up going through the typical stages of grief. There will be loads of anger, frustration, denial and then finally acceptance that she was a one night stand and will certainly move on with her life. Sure, I’ve burned a bridge with this woman, but if all I wanted to begin with was a night of casual sex and she wasn’t even that great at it, why would I need to contact her in the future? And just like that I’m onto the next country, girl and potential blow off. Now, this isn’t saying that if the woman is absolutely phenomenal I won’t see her again. There’s a whole other script if I give the woman a seven or higher. Those girls, the seven to ten range, get a more special treatment. The answering service will take all of their information, catalogue them for me by area and store them in my version of a little black book. If and when I’m around again, I’ll call them up for another round or three in the bedroom. I guess there could be better ways to enjoy a one night stand, but this works. With my career and status, it pays to be discrete about these kinds of encounters. The less they know about me, the better, which is why I usually keep them to one night, unless I need a good lay if I’m ever in the area again. It’s callous, yes, but it could be worse—I could demean them by making these women sign some sort of non-disclosure agreement in lieu of a night with me. I choose to let them live out whatever fantasy they’re having before I burst their bubble. See? I am a gentleman. As I push my way through the lobby doors—and by the concierge’s accent, I’ve determined I’m somewhere in Italy—my car pulls up to the curb. I slink into the backseat as he heads off to my hotel. “Have a good night, Sir?†Nicholas asks as he weaves through traffic. “Four,†I simply reply, rubbing my temples as I wish away the headache and sore muscles that always come after a night of excessive drinking and bedroom acrobatics. “Another one bite your dick?†he chuckles, eyeing me through the rearview mirror. “No,†I laugh. “This one insisted on calling me daddy in her annoying baby voice. If she would’ve just kept my cock in her mouth, she could’ve been a seven, no doubt. I don’t understand what it is with women these days—nobody wants to hear a woman speak like a five-year-old, especially when I’m trying to put my dick in her ass.†Nicholas wipes away his tears of laughter and raises the partition. Shaking my head, I grab the bottle of aspirin he keeps supplied for me and swallow a couple dry. I lower the glass just a crack, not even enough for our eyes to connect in the mirror. “How long are we here?†“Based on your schedule, we’re in Milan until the end of the week, a few days in Paris and then home.†“Alright, wake me when we arrive at the hotel.†Resting my head on the plush leather headrest behind me, I drift off in a peaceful slumber. God knows I didn’t get any last night.      Ashley Suzanne is a married mother of three little boys as well as a daughter, aunt, sister, best friend, birth mother, blogger, book whore and author. Ashley is a native to the suburbs of Detroit, with most of her family living in Kentucky and New York. You can usually find Ashley sitting in bed, with her laptop, playing on Facebook, pretending to write, entering giveaways (she’s also a swag whore) or on a football field with her oldest son, Tyler. Yep, not only is she a football fan, she’s a football mom! When she’s reading, it’s typically something to do with romance, contemporary being her favorite genre. She’s a total fan-girl over a few authors; Pamela Ann, SE Hall, Madeline Sheehan, Jasinda Wilder, Maya Banks, CM Stunich, Nicole Jacquelyn and Riley Rhea to name a few. Ashley has no pets, unless you count her children and she is a little OCD. Her favorite color is pink. Her favorite drink is cherry vodka and coke and double chocolate brownies are a must. Other Works by Ashley Suzanne (all available on Amazon, BN, iTunes, Kobo and Smashwords) Mirage (Book One: The Destined Series) Raven Inception (Book One 1/2: The Destined Series) Awakening (Book Two: The Destined Series) Façade (Book Three: The Destined Series) Epiphany (Book Four: The Destined Series) Sign up for Ashley’s Mailing List       HOSTED BY:  Review by Brittany Dexter McFadden is a famous photographer. He travels all around the world shooting high fashion. He also travels to… how do I put this lightly? Get his dick wet. He finds a girl that fits his needs, goes back to her place to hook up, then leaves while she’s asleep. Except he leaves them something… A calling card.
When word gets out about what this playboy photographer is doing, all hell breaks loose. It turns into a huge scandal, even though it’s really not. Going into hiding, he flies to New York to stay with former girlfriend now best friend and her daughter. One night, Briar and Dex get a little hot and heavy in the bedroom. Afraid that he’s going to screw up their friendship, he backs off and flies out of the country the next day. When he fails to screw a girl because she shares the same name as Briar’s daughter, he gives up. That’s when he knows that he has fallen hard for his former girlfriend. He hopes he’s not too late and can make it work this time. Ashley Suzanne… what can I say about Ashley Suzanne? Oh! ALWAYS expect the unexpected. She got me twice in this book, and it wasn’t even that long. If you’re looking for a book that will surprise you, read anything of hers. I also loved this story because it was unique. You don’t often read stories about photographers. I also enjoyed the little girl, Briar’s daughter. I often dislike having children or babies in books, because I feel that they take away from the story that I wanted. But Katelynn was perfect for this. The relationship she and Dex share is adorable and Katelynn is a blast. Five stars for the lovely Ashley Suzanne. I think this quick little book was fun and very enjoyable.
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