Susceptible to Him: A Steamy Contemporary Romance: Risso Family Contemporary Romance Series, #1

By Lynn Burke

A Contemporary Billionaire Romance Novella

 

A jaded woman who refuses to date. A libertine who refuses to commit. One night of dancing leaves them both vulnerable—and shakes their mindsets.

 

Lia Risso walked in on her fiancé and three other women on Valentine's Day. Two celibate years later, her roommate creates a profile for Lia on a dating website—without her knowledge—and sets up a date. On Valentine's Day.

Ryan Walsh, a self-made millionaire and libertine, refuses to commit to any one woman. Tossed from foster home to foster home as a child, Ryan is on guard against becoming vulnerable ever again.

One dinner…one night of dancing and flirting with the attraction between them, puts both Lia and Ryan in danger of heart break.

They have a choice—open themselves to the possibility of hurt or walk away, never knowing what might have been.

 

Risso Family Contemporary Romance Series:

Susceptible to Him

Longing for Her

Complete with Her

Tempered by Her

Chasing after Him

No One until Her

 

If you're a fan of TL Swan, Alexis Winter, Adriana Lock, Abby Brooks, Claire Kingsley, Lainey Davis, & Sav R. Miller, you're going to love the Risso Family series!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lynn Burke
• Release date: May 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393957843

Lynn Burke

USA Today Bestselling author Lynn Burke is a CrossFit and coffee addict. Her three spawn dictate how often she can be found hunched over her Mac, typing as fast as her fickle muse cooks up hot stories.

Book preview

Lia

I got you a date for tonight.

My roommate’s words whipped my head around, and my tossed keys landed on the floor inside our apartment door rather than on top of the bookshelf where they belonged. I glared at the spiked, inky dyed hair, gelled-to-hell atop her head, while kicking the door shut behind me. You did what?

Slumped in her usual spot on our tattered couch, Gwen clicked away on her laptop. You are going out tonight with a royal hottie.

A date. With a hottie.

That’s what I said.

Scowling, I flung my purse on the kitchen table and pulled open the fridge door. A quick peek at the meager contents, and my frown deepened. "Did you eat my leftover lo mein?"

Yup.

Bitch.

Yup.

I had a shitty day, Gwen. I’m not in the mood.

She snapped her laptop closed, placed it on the coffee table, and stood. It’s been two years.

Jack.

My throat tightened, fading my annoyance. The love of my life since thirteen, my high school sweetheart. The one who, our sophomore year in college, promised me forever with a 1-carat stone set in the purest gold. The one I had expected to spend every Valentine’s Day with until I lay in a cold grave.

You know what day it is. The words tore from my lips. Why are you doing this?

It’s time to move on, Lia.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. My neck ached. My eyes burned. As with every evening upon returning home from work, I cursed my life, my choice in jobs. Men and accounting sucked ass.

Kicking off my heels, I let out a quiet explosion of exhaled air and emotion. I can’t, I whispered.

You can, and you will.

Heaving a sigh, I met her hazel-eyed stare. My best friend since middle school, there was nothing Gwen didn’t know about me. We roomed together all through college and then got an apartment in the North End upon graduation. Close enough to home to please my papa, but far enough away to enjoy some independence.

Not that I’d done anything to warrant either of my parents’ disapproval since I signed the lease.

The ring through Gwen’s bottom lip twitched, and a smirk soon followed.

My body stilled. I knew the look well, the type that had always landed us in trouble during our college years. What did you do? I asked, my spine prickling with unease.

Don’t get mad.

What. Did. You. Do.

She tugged on the frayed edge of her faded Princess Ariel t-shirt. Her pale cheeks flushed. You know that website I use?

Oh, good Lord. I palmed my hips. The lure-a-lover or whatever the hell it’s called?

Yup.

I waited, brow raised in my best resting-bitch face.

Gwen sucked in a breath. Well, I decided to make you a profile and find you the perfect match for a little tickle and poke.

What the hell? My Italian temper screamed for release, but I stomped down the hallway before I could spout off shit she thoroughly deserved, and I’d regret.

Come on, Lia. A scramble of feet, and Gwen grabbed my forearm, halting my angry footfalls. You’ve gotta be sick and tired of listening to me and my flavor of the week through these thin walls.

Ear buds, Gwen. I jabbed my fingers toward the sides of my head. Ear. Buds.

Whatever. She released my arm. You need to get laid.

I have Mr. Pink.

She snorted, rolling her eyes. Sorry, but there’s no vibrator on the face of this earth that satisfies like a nice thick—

Gah. Enough, already. Throwing my arms up, I turned and moved away, hellbent on my bedroom.

One little date. One night of passion to help you get over him.

I paused inside the dim room I called my haven, the one place I could allow daily tears to flow without fear of someone finding out I still mourned the bastard who’d broken my heart.

It’s Valentine’s Day, Gwen, I whispered, the fight draining out of me at the comfort of my room.

Which is precisely why you need this. Ryan Walsh will make you forget Jack the jackass.

Ryan Walsh.

Yup. Hotter than hell. Dark hair long enough on top to grab hold of, the perfect amount of scruff, and crystal-clear blue eyes. Abs my tongue salivated over. Totally your type.

My type. The confident jock. Suave.

The womanizer whose girlfriend walks in on him with another woman—a whore—and the whore’s two friends.

Wait. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Abs? As in half-naked pictures of this Ryan guy?

"Yup. Won’t lure a lay off that site unless you post some good pics."

Good pics.

Oh, God. I spun on my best friend, bitch face back in full force. Please tell me you didn’t, I snipped, hands finding my hips.

Gwen chewed the inside of her lip as her smirk faded.

"Not spring break. My voice escaped as a whine. Please, Gwen. Tell me you didn’t!"

I had to, Lia! You’re built like an absolute goddess, and that white bikini let it all hang out.

I cringed in memory of the bathing suit she’d insisted I wear, the bit of white lace that had kept me beet red the whole day, and not from sunburn. Exactly.

Exactly is right. Men love curves.

My glance skimmed over her short stature, the skinny ass in tight, black yoga pants. Okay. Not skinny ass, but skinny everything else. If only I’d been blessed with a smaller-than-sapling waist and perfect apple-sized breasts.

My own full girls jiggled as borderline manic laughter bubbled over the audacity of my best friend even though her actions shouldn’t have surprised me. I can’t believe you did this.

I did it because I’m sick and tired of listening to you bawl every night.

My smile faded as quickly as it’d come on. You hear me.

Every damn night, Lia.

So much for my private haven. I blew a heavy breath out between my lips.

Gwen straightened to her full, barely five-foot height. You’re going to go lounge in that bubble bath I drew for you, shave your hairy-ass legs, suck down a glass or two of vino for liquid courage, and go out on a hot date.

A hot date.

An attempt to get over Jack the jackass.

At least a first step toward it, anyway.

Tears pricked my eyes. Perhaps it was time. I’d wasted two long years mourning the loss of what I had thought to be the perfect relationship. Some guy from a dating website would be a great first outing—one totally uninterested in getting inside a girl’s heart and mind.

A safe, sure date that wouldn’t lead to love and heartache. I wasn’t looking for a quick tickle and poke, though, either. The app she’d used to get me said date would lead to assumptions the Ryan guy would be getting into my pants later that night.

No dick for me. Nope. Nada.

All right. I dipped my head a single time in agreement. I’ll go, but I’m not shaving my legs.

What the hell?

"I’m not going to sleep with