Noise

By Donya Lynne

His loud music infuriated her. His persistence annoyed her. But the way he looks at her under the stars just might break her.

At eighteen, Taylor Ann Riley took a fledgling idea and turned it into a million-dollar venture. A week later, she left her dysfunctional, cultish family and never looked back. Now Taylor is one of the wealthiest women in the world and has no time for men and relationships, especially when they’ve been so dissatisfying.

Then she meets Ryker, a noisy neighbor who needs to learn some respect.

A professional athlete, Ryker recently broke off his four-year engagement after his fiancée cheated. Deeply burned and still not over the breakup, Ryker doesn’t want a relationship either. But after a gorgeous, tattooed spitfire filled with attitude chews him out for playing his music too loud, he wants to prove that where other men have failed her, he will not just succeed, but exceed.

Will Taylor give Ryker the chance to ruin her for other men, or will she let the opportunity pass her by?

Don’t miss this fiery, fast-paced enemies to lovers romance!

Books in the Forbidden Flowers Series
Sushi
Meet Me at Midnight
Jaw Breaker
Sacred
Noise
Hitting the Spot
Show and Tell
Sway
Rough Ride

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donya Lynne
• Release date: Aug 13, 2021
• ISBN: 9781938991530

Donya Lynne

Donya Lynne is the bestselling author of the award winning All the King's Men and Strong Karma Series and a member of Romance Writers of America. Making her home in a wooded suburb north of Indianapolis with her husband, Donya has lived in Indiana most of her life and knew at a young age she was destined to be a writer. She started writing poetry in grade school and won her first short story contest in fourth grade. In junior high, she began writing romantic stories for her friends, and by her sophomore year, she’d been dubbed Most Likely to Become a Romance Novelist. In 2012, she fulfilled her dream by publishing her first two novels and a novella. Her work has earned her two IPPYs, five eLit Awards, a USA Today Recommended Read, and numerous accolades, including two Smashwords bestsellers. When she’s not writing, she can be found cheering on the Indianapolis Colts or doing her cats’ bidding.

Book preview

1

Dr. O’s Office . . .

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Poor Eve. She plucked that apple off the tree and must have held Adam at gunpoint to make him eat it for all the grief it caused womankind.

Has anyone ever stopped to consider that Adam took a bite of his own free will? That Adam played an equal part in bringing about the fall of humanity. Yet women still suffer as if Eve, and Eve alone, was responsible.

Don’t get me wrong. We’ve made tremendous progress from when women were considered property. Now, women have the right to vote, work outside the home, and speak their minds. But there’s still a long way to go.

Take women’s sexuality, for example.

A man can have sex with a different woman every weekend and be admired for his prowess. No one tries to slut-shame him or pile on the guilt for sleeping around. Quite the opposite. He’s seen as more of a man, only sowing his wild oats. It’s just boys being boys.

But if a woman had sex with a different man every weekend, she would be labeled easy, promiscuous, or even a whore. Other women would look down their noses at her and accuse her of having no self-respect. Men would feel entitled to take inappropriate liberties with her. And if she happens to tell this or that man no, they might call her a cocktease or some other equally insulting moniker. Or, worse yet, they might not take no for an answer, then blame her by saying she was asking for it after the deed was done, because, after all, look at how many men she’s had sex with. What’s one more added to the list? And those same women who looked down their noses would nod their heads piously. Yes, yes. She was a Jezebel, and this is what happens to women who sleep around.

The double standard pisses me off. As a PhD who works in the field of psychology, I probably shouldn’t say that, because I’m supposed to be Switzerland and remain unbiased. But I believe that even hookers have a right not to be sexually violated against their will.

And don’t even get me started on how single women are treated when they get pregnant, because in my practice, I’ve seen all the emotional and mental damage these women suffer at the hands of not just strangers, but those who should care about them most, such as their parents.

My name is Dr. Ophelia Jusczyk, and I want to change those prevailing opinions. One reason I became a psychologist specializing in women’s sexuality was because I wanted to bring greater awareness to the fact that women can enjoy sex too. They have every right to have sex for pleasure and to control who they have sex with, when they have sex, where, and how. If a woman wants to have a one-night stand for no other reason than the guy is hot and she feels like it, she should be allowed to partake and not be labeled a whore.

I’m hoping my next book, which focuses on the best sex my interview subjects have ever had, helps to normalize the idea that women are sexual creatures too. Because, sometimes, a woman just wants to get laid. Like men, women have urges. Why should she be labeled a slut, trashy, immoral, or damned to hell simply for exploring those urges the same way men do? The right man comes along, everything falls into place, and bam! Your place or mine?

That’s basically the story of how my next interview subject, a twenty-eight-year-old woman named Taylor Ann Riley, found the best sex of her life.

So far, she’s quick to add, raising her index finger as if making a point. "It was the best sex I’ve had so far."

Some would say that what she’s doing with this man is amoral or impudent. That she’s a bad example for other women. I disagree. I think she’s exactly the type of example women need.

Despite her impressive résumé, which reads more like that of someone nearing the end of a long, exceptionally successful career rather than just starting out, Taylor is still young and free enough to know she’s not finished discovering everything that sex has to offer. And she’s not ashamed to sample all the dishes at the buffet of sexual opportunity to learn what she likes and doesn’t like, as well as what she wants second helpings of. Maybe even thirds and fourths.

I smile at being corrected. What would you say makes this sex stand out above and beyond other sex you’ve had?

First of all, there aren’t any strings attached, so we can be ourselves without any expectations to live up to. We just fuck.

Her directness is refreshing. So many women struggle to talk about their sexual experiences. They hem and haw around the language, which sometimes makes it challenging for me to fully understand what they’re saying. They’ll call it loving instead of fucking or use other vague or misleading words. One woman I interviewed even called her vagina a kitty. At first, I thought she was talking about her cat, which didn’t make any sense, then I figured it out.

Are you in an open relationship with this man? I ask. Or is this something else?

A self-satisfied expression crosses her face as a naughty twinkle flashes in her vividly blue eyes. It’s definitely something else.

Would you like to elaborate?

She inhales, her gaze dancing up to the ceiling as her grin grows into a delightfully knowing smile. This isn’t the kind of smile that says she’s smitten or cock-whipped. This is the kind of smile that says she’s got this man wrapped around her finger in a way both of them can’t get enough of.

Ry and I aren’t a couple, she says, bringing her gaze back down to mine. So there’s not really a relationship at all. We just like each other. He fucks me the way I like to be fucked, and I don’t get clingy with him. We get together, have incredibly hot sex that melts the paint off the walls, then I go home. Or he does, depending on whether we’re at his place or mine.

You never spend the whole night together?

No, she says with a strong shake of her head. I like having my bed to myself. I can’t sleep with anyone else in it.

And there’s nothing else going on between the two of you? I say, crossing my