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TAKE ME FOR GRANTED (Take Me #1)

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Blurb

An opposites attract rockstar duet from USA Today bestselling author K.A. Linde...

Grant: Manwhore. Adrenaline junkie. Lead singer of ContraBand.

What you see is what you get. I make no apologies for my actions, and by now no one expects any from me. I live my life the way I want and as long as it pushes the demons back, then I'm solid. I've never needed a chick for more than a good lay. Why would I need just one when I can have a different one every night?

Until she walks into my world.

Aribel: Mouthy. Perfectionist. Princeton student. Chemistry major.

Yes, that pretty much describes me. Oh, and virgin. But I have more important things to concern myself with. What really matters is finishing my degree and getting a good job. I’ve worked hard for what I want, and do what’s expected of me. I don’t need anyone to get in my way.

Until he opens up my world.

But if I give you my world, whatever you do…don’t take me for granted.

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1. Grant
1 Grant I didn’t remember the number of women I’d f****d. Yeah, that might sound cocky or maybe a bit disgusting even, but I’d never given two f***s. I wasn’t about to start now. Whoever was lying beside me needed to get the f**k out before I could remember her name. Did I remember her name? Lany. Lacy. Lucy? No. Fuck. I didn’t give a s**t. She just needed to leave, so I could get back to sleep. “Babe,” I grumbled, nudging the chick in the ribs. “Darlin’.” “Mmm,” she groaned. “I love when you call me darlin’.” I’d already known she liked it. She had lost her clothes quickly enough to the sound of it last night. Now, I was pretty sure I’d never say it again if it meant that she would get out quicker. “Time to go home.” The girl turned on her side and tucked the comforter under her arms, covering her t**s. Well, there went her best quality. She gave me a come-and-get-me look and pouted her lips as if that would change my mind. Not likely. “Oh, come on, Grant,” she whispered throatily. Her hand slid down my chest and then farther south. Yeah, not happening. I wasn’t interested in another mediocre performance on her part. Maybe a blow job. Then again, probably not. She stroked my c**k, and I was reconsidering that blow job. She had to be better at sucking d**k then f*****g. It was some unwritten rule. Either they sucked, or they f****d. “No, honey. It’s time for you to go home.” I rolled onto my back and reached for the joint and a lighter on my nightstand. “That’s not what you were saying last night.” I flicked the Zippo to life and took a drag on the joint. “That’s what I’m saying now. You knew how this was going to go when you came back with me. So, save me the headache and just leave.” “Baby…” she whined. She tried to shimmy closer to me, but I pushed her away. Man, her voice grates on my nerves. “This was fun. Nothing more.” “Can’t we have fun again?” “No. I’d rather have fun with someone else,” I told her point-blank, taking another drag. Her jaw dropped, and she hopped out of bed. “w***e,” she snapped. She snatched up her clothes and then stormed toward the door. I waited until it slammed shut behind her before blowing out the smoke. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that. I preferred the term manwhore. I’d earned that title, and I was f*****g proud of it.

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