When a stalker gets too close to plus-size model Mae Cooper, it’s time to hire some muscle.
Closer, an all-new standalone novella in the fan favorite Stage Dive Series from New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott and 1001 Dark Nights, is available now!
Enter former military man turned executive protection officer Ziggy Thayer. Having spent years guarding billionaires, royalty, and rock n roll greats, he’s seen it all. From lavish parties through to every kind of excess.
There’s no reason some Instagram stylista should throw him off his game. Even if she does have the most dangerous curves he’s ever seen...
**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**
Download your copy today!
My Review
Excerpt:
“Your keys and security alarm code please, miss?” he asked, hand held out waiting.
It might have just been me, but we seemed to be standing awfully close together. It almost seemed weirdly intimate. Almost. No, my bad. Ziggy wore his usual professional façade with nary a hint of emotion on display. His gaze was shuttered, his bearing military rigid. It was definitely just me and my overactive imagination. Being vaguely attracted to your bodyguard was kind of a pain in the ass. Not that I couldn’t use the distraction right now.
Ziggy continued to stand there patiently waiting.
“Keys. Right.” I rummaged inside my Balenciaga City bag. Designer goodies were not only a weakness of mine, but a happy perk of being in the industry and achieving some small fame. “Ah, just a minute. They’re in here somewhere.”
I pushed aside my purse, a cashmere shawl, tampons, a candy bar, some loose change, my small Chanel cosmetics case, a power bank, hair ties, pepper spray, a copy of the latest Sarah MacLean book, mints, a spare charging cable for my cell phone, the cell phone itself, Chapstick, Prada sunglasses case, my grandma’s rosary, dental floss, deodorant, a couple of pens, Kleenex, ear buds, water bottle, a USB stick, reusable straw, condoms, nail file, some old receipts, a travel size umbrella, hand sanitizer, lotion, a pair of pearl earrings, tweezers, Advil, a hair band, and some bobby pins.
“Sorry about this,” I murmured. “I know I put them in here when we left.”
He said nothing. A whole lot of nothing.
“Huh.” With a great sense of victory, I held up a bottle of nail polish. “I thought I’d lost this.”
One of his dark brows crept upwards.
“I’ll have you know this color was limited edition. Little Death at Midnight by Oxley. You can’t buy it anymore.”
His lips did not move, but that damn eyebrow arched even higher as he leaned forward a little and took in the contents of my bag. I swear his eyes widened.
“Don’t you judge me. All of these things are necessary for my ongoing existence.”
“Of course they are, miss.” The man was so judging me. Bastard. “You carry a koozie around with you, I see.”
“It pays to be ready to party, Mr. Thayer.”
It might have just been me, but we seemed to be standing awfully close together. It almost seemed weirdly intimate. Almost. No, my bad. Ziggy wore his usual professional façade with nary a hint of emotion on display. His gaze was shuttered, his bearing military rigid. It was definitely just me and my overactive imagination. Being vaguely attracted to your bodyguard was kind of a pain in the ass. Not that I couldn’t use the distraction right now.
Ziggy continued to stand there patiently waiting.
“Keys. Right.” I rummaged inside my Balenciaga City bag. Designer goodies were not only a weakness of mine, but a happy perk of being in the industry and achieving some small fame. “Ah, just a minute. They’re in here somewhere.”
I pushed aside my purse, a cashmere shawl, tampons, a candy bar, some loose change, my small Chanel cosmetics case, a power bank, hair ties, pepper spray, a copy of the latest Sarah MacLean book, mints, a spare charging cable for my cell phone, the cell phone itself, Chapstick, Prada sunglasses case, my grandma’s rosary, dental floss, deodorant, a couple of pens, Kleenex, ear buds, water bottle, a USB stick, reusable straw, condoms, nail file, some old receipts, a travel size umbrella, hand sanitizer, lotion, a pair of pearl earrings, tweezers, Advil, a hair band, and some bobby pins.
“Sorry about this,” I murmured. “I know I put them in here when we left.”
He said nothing. A whole lot of nothing.
“Huh.” With a great sense of victory, I held up a bottle of nail polish. “I thought I’d lost this.”
One of his dark brows crept upwards.
“I’ll have you know this color was limited edition. Little Death at Midnight by Oxley. You can’t buy it anymore.”
His lips did not move, but that damn eyebrow arched even higher as he leaned forward a little and took in the contents of my bag. I swear his eyes widened.
“Don’t you judge me. All of these things are necessary for my ongoing existence.”
“Of course they are, miss.” The man was so judging me. Bastard. “You carry a koozie around with you, I see.”
“It pays to be ready to party, Mr. Thayer.”
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