The Silicon Beach Trilogy
Books 1
& 2
By Jill Blake
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Beyond
the Ivory Tower
Mature content, 18+. Heat level: 4 (out of 5)
If there’s one
thing math professor Anna Lazarev believes in, it’s the value of higher
education. So when her younger sister announces she’s dropping out of college,
Anna places the blame squarely on the man who inspired her sister’s rebellion.
Venture capitalist
Ethan Talbot claims the US academic system is broken. His solution? Pay top
students to “opt out” and pursue their entrepreneurial dreams without wasting time
and money on a university degree.
In a passionate
battle for the hearts and minds of a new generation, Anna will do whatever it
takes to prove Ethan wrong. But when his demands take a more personal turn,
will she sacrifice her principles to come out on top?
“You did what?” Becca shrieked, after hearing an
abbreviated version of yesterday’s debacle.
“Just a little louder, Bec. I don’t think the
citizens of Kansas heard you.”
“Wow. Ethan Talbot. I can’t believe I had to
drag it out of you.”
Anna switched to speaker phone and lifted her
suitcase atop the bed. “It’s not like I planned it,” she said, gathering
discarded items of clothing and tucking them into a laundry bag. “It just
happened.”
“Period cramps just happen. Weight gain just
happens. Ending a three-year-old dry spell with Ethan Talbot doesn’t just
happen.”
“I didn’t exactly end the dry spell.” She shoved
the shoes into a different bag. “He dropped me back at the hotel and left. End
of story.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. When are you
seeing him again?”
“I’m not.” She debated dumping the unused box of
condoms. It wasn’t as if she’d need them any time soon.
Then again….She glanced at the expiration date.
Two years. A lot could happen in two years.
“Why not?” Becca prodded.
“Because I’m heading home.” What the hell. She
tossed the condoms in her suitcase. “Besides, we have nothing in common. And he
refused to release Klara from the Fellowship.”
“Anna, sweetie, sorry for pointing out the
obvious, but most people view the Talbot Fellowship as something prestigious.”
“It’s not a degree, Bec. It’s not even a
certificate.”
“Maybe not, but it’ll still look good on Klara’s
CV.”
Anna ducked into the bathroom for her toiletry
bag.
Becca’s voice followed her. “You know Klara will
do what she wants, regardless of what you say. Which means you’ve got two
choices: prolong the battle and risk alienating her completely, or accept what
she’s doing and move on.”
Anna returned to the bedroom. “What’s option C?”
“It wouldn’t kill you to be a little more
flexible. Klara’s the only family you have. Shame to lose her over something
that’s going to be over in two years.”
Anna sighed. “Bec, the problem is, we’re not
just talking two years. We’re talking her entire future.”
“Does the word hyperbole mean anything to you?”
Anna ignored her attempt at humor. “If Klara
doesn’t finish her education, she’ll end up regretting it. Maybe not now, but
someday.” She glanced around to see if there was anything left to pack.
“She can always go back to school,” Becca said.
“There are plenty of returning students of all ages.”
“I guess.”
“And look on the bright side. Now that Klara’s
moved out, you have the whole place to yourself. You can finally have a social
life.”
“Is that supposed to cheer me up?” Anna said,
zipping the suitcase.
“It’s all in the attitude. Now tell me more
about Ethan Talbot.”
“Nothing more to tell.”
“Come on, you have to do better than that.”
“Seriously, Bec. I’m lucky if the guy doesn’t
turn around and walk the other way the moment he sees me.”
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay, so what did you do?”
“I threw myself at him.”
“You what?”
Anna winced and lowered the cell phone volume.
“I may have had a little too much to drink.” She waited for Becca’s laughter to
taper off. “It’s not that funny.”
“Sorry. I’m just trying to picture it. I don’t
think I’ve ever seen you drunk.”
“Yeah, well don’t hold your breath.” Anna lifted
the suitcase off the bed. “I have to go check out.”
“Wait—that’s it?”
Anna sighed. “It’s a long drive, Bec. I’ll talk
to you when I get home.”
Two hours later, her phone buzzed. She ignored
it. Another hour passed before she pulled into a rest stop to use the
facilities and check messages.
She read Ethan’s text while standing in line for
coffee.
How are you feeling?
Oh, boy. Mortified would just about cover it.
Hung over would work too. And determined to put the entire unfortunate
interlude with Ethan behind her.
“Next.”
She dropped the phone back in her bag and
stepped up to the counter.
Two and a half hours later, as she unlocked the
front door of her Santa Monica apartment, another text came through:
You OK?
Clearly, the man wasn’t going to let it go until
she responded.
She dumped her belongings in the living room and
typed:
All good. Back in LA.
His response was immediate:
Didn’t get chance to say goodbye.
She sank down on the couch.
Sorry, she wrote. Goodbye.
And that should have been the end of it. Except
for some reason, Ethan seemed determined to go off script.
When are you back in SF?
Was he asking because he wanted to see her
again, or because he wanted advance notice so he could avoid running into her?
She wouldn’t blame him if it was the latter. She’d never made such a fool of
herself before. The only thing that would have been worse was if he’d taken her
up on her offer, and then she’d vomited all over him. Or passed out in the
middle of things. Or woken up naked and alone and not remembering a damn thing
about how she got that way.
Considering all the worst case scenarios that hadn’t
happened, she supposed she should be grateful. But that didn’t mean she wanted
to see Ethan again. Ignoring the little voice in her head that said liar, liar,
she texted back:
Busy with work. Have to stay in LA.
Then she shut off her phone and headed for the
bedroom. She squelched any residual guilt by reminding herself that they had
nothing in common. If he tried texting or calling her again, she’d simply
ignore him. The same way he’d ignored her emails and phone calls when she’d
first attempted to contact him.
Of course he hadn’t known her then. He probably
got a ton of spam and solicitations, and her messages might have gotten lost in
the shuffle—assuming they ever reached him at all. Now that they’d met, the
dynamics had changed.
But that was beside the point. She didn’t belong
in his world, and he had no place in hers. Best to cut her losses before anyone
got hurt. And by anyone, she meant herself. Because she really couldn’t imagine
a man like Ethan Talbot getting too hung up on a woman whose IQ far exceeded
her bra size.
She toed off her sensible flats, stripped off
her clothes, and climbed into the shower. Time to get back to real life.
Mature content,
18+. Heat level: 4 (out of 5)
Becca Markham spent
the last six years trying to please everyone but herself. So when she ditches
her cheating boyfriend and quits her high-stress job as a software engineer,
she decides it’s time to pursue her own dreams. At the top of her list?
Transforming her life-long love of baking from a part-time hobby into a
full-time business.
Leo Kogan spent
years scrambling to escape a life of poverty—first in Russia, then in the U.S.
Now a successful surgeon, he needs just one thing to complete his American
dream: the perfect woman. But making the leap from casual friends to lovers
proves harder than he expects.
Despite a sizzling
attraction, Becca and Leo disagree on important things—like love and money.
She’s looking for sex without strings; he wants a partner for life. She stakes
her future on a risky new business; he’s obsessed with financial security.
Can love bring two
headstrong people together…or will their differences end up tearing them apart?
Where are you?
A minute passed. Then two. Maybe there’d been an
accident. But if so, wouldn’t someone have raised the alarm over John not
showing up for work?
The sense of unease that had been dogging her
all day increased. She swiped across several screens until she found the GPS
app she’d installed the last time John had misplaced his phone. Before she
could enter the passcode, an inner door opened and a medical assistant in drab
olive scrubs popped her head out.
“Becca? I thought that was you. What are you
doing here?”
It took Becca several seconds to put a name to
the face. “Alma,” she said. “Hi.”
“Is that for us?” The woman’s eyes dropped to
the bag dangling from Becca’s wrist.
“What?” Becca glanced down. The second box of
meringues. The ones she’d forgotten to drop off at the post-anesthesia care
unit because she’d been in such a rush to get to the clinic. “Yes.” She
pocketed the phone and offered Alma the bag. “Here.”
A deep voice interrupted. “Alma…? I need an
Aircast in room two.”
“Duty calls,” Alma whispered. “Go on back. You
know where the kitchen is.”
She disappeared down the hall, leaving Becca to
follow more slowly. She dropped the bag off in the tiny kitchen and was on her
way out when an exam room door flew open and a tall figure dressed in scrubs
and white coat stepped into her path.
“Whoa!” He caught her arm just in time to keep
her from falling. “Becca! You okay?”
She ignored the tingling sensation in her arm.
And the lightheadedness? Probably just sleep deprivation. And anxiety. Yeah, that
had to be it.
His head dipped slightly, dark blond brows
furrowed. Green eyes scanned her face. She breathed in his scent—something
tangy, like citrus, mixed with hospital soap. “Becca?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine, Leo. You can let
go.”
It felt like forever before he nodded and
released her. She shivered, rubbing her arm where his fingers had touched.
“What are you doing here?” he said.
She was really beginning to hate that question.
“Looking for John.”
Leo’s gaze sharpened. “He’s not at the
hospital?”
“No.” She bit her lip. “Do you have any idea
where he might be?”
Leo hesitated. “No.”
“Would you tell me if you did?”
He shifted and cleared his throat. “Maybe.”
“Leo…”
The exam room door opened. “You’re all set,”
Alma said, ushering out a patient on crutches.
Leo and Becca moved out of the way.
“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his voice. “I
need to get back. Maybe you should call Anna…?”
Why would he suggest that?
The sick feeling at the pit of her stomach
spread up and out. She took a deep breath and watched Leo’s broad back as he
strode down the hall, knocked on an exam room door, and disappeared inside.
Her cell phone vibrated. She fished it out and
had to read John’s message twice, because the words kept blurring.
Working hard. About to start another case.
What’s up?
Somehow, she got home and made it through the
rest of the day.
It was nearly midnight by the time she heard
John’s key in the door. She wasn’t surprised. He’d texted her again, advising
her of an emergency fasciotomy he had to do on a patient with compartment
syndrome.
That was when she checked the GPS app. It
confirmed what she already knew: John wasn’t at work. He was nowhere near work.
The signal mapped to a luxury resort some thirty miles northeast of the
hospital. She looked the place up online. Quiet, discreet, set amid
twenty-three acres of lush gardens, it billed itself as the perfect escape from
the city, starting at three hundred dollars a night.
And to think, just this morning, she’d been
worried about work preempting their weekend plans!
The front door opened. John flicked on the
lights and froze. “Rebecca. Why were you sitting here in the dark?”
She blinked, as if coming awake from a dream.
“Hello, John,” she said. “How was work?”
Jill Blake loves
chocolate, leisurely walks where she doesn’t break a sweat, and books with a
guaranteed happy ending. A native of Philadelphia, Jill now lives in southern
California with her husband and three children. During the day, she works as a
physician in a busy medical practice. At night, she pens steamy romances.
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