Jenine Gouch

Ever heard of a virgin romance author? Now you have. Spoiler alert: it’s as sad as it sounds. My roommate thinks I should do some research to help my writer’s block. When a billionaire publishing executive rejects my book, she has the perfect idea. The perfectly terrible idea of tricking him into bidding on me through a BDSM site. I know how it sounds. Crazy. Stupid. Irresponsible. Check, check, check. I couldn’t agree more. Yes, he’s practically dripping with sex appeal. Yes, any woman with a pulse would kill for a “hello” from him. And yes, he looks like he belongs on a movie screen.

I was a 68 Whiskey - a combat medic. So when I hear someone shout "MEDIC!", training just kicks in. It's automatic, immediate. I don't think I even saw the guy whose leg I tended to, not really. All I saw was him. Zane Badd. His tuxedo fit him like he'd been sewn into it, and his eyes reflected the fury and the hardness of a combat veteran, but when he looked at me, he just...softened. By the time I had his brother patched, Zane and I were both covered in blood, and I knew I had to have him.

I found an envelope in the mail. No return address. My name on the front, my address. Inside was a check, made out to me, in the amount of 10 thousand dollars. Enough to pay the bills and leave me some left over to live on until I found a job. Enough to let me focus on classes. There was no name on the check, just "VRI Inc.", and a post office box address for somewhere in the city. No hint of identity or reason for the check or anything. No mention of repayment, interest, nothing...except a single word, on the notes line: "You." Just those three letters.