The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends Read online

  The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends

  a collection

  Kayley Loring

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Brooklyn Book Boyfriends and bonus content

  Copyright © 2020 by Kayley Loring

  All rights reserved.

  Collection cover designed by Stacy Garcia, Graphics by Stacy

  Foreword

  This collection contains four full-length standalone novels with bonus epilogues for each novel. The bonus content is only available in this collection.

  The novels are presented in the order that I wrote them: REBOUND WITH ME, COME BACK TO BED, TONIGHT YOU’RE MINE, and THE PLUS ONES. I did not originally write these books as a series. COME BACK TO BED does not have any crossover characters from REBOUND WITH ME or TONIGHT YOU’RE MINE. TONIGHT YOU’RE MINE contains a couple of little “Easter eggs” if you read it after REBOUND WITH ME. THE PLUS ONES is where everyone and everything comes together…in Brooklyn.

  I’d had an idea for a story and since so many women had asked me if Keaton from TONIGHT YOU’RE MINE would be getting a book, I realized I could give this story to Keaton and include the whole gang from those three previous New York/Brooklyn books. Story-wise, you can read these books in whatever order you want. Unless you hate reading about couples without already knowing the details of how they became couples—then you should read the books in the order you’ll find them here.

  If you have already read these books, then here’s what you should know: I did a fairly significant rewrite of REBOUND WITH ME in April 2020. So if you read it prior to April 30 2020, the version in this collection is the same story but I’ve polished the writing, added 5000 words including an extra chapter and had it edited. The content of the other three books has not changed, but as I mentioned earlier—each novel has new bonus epilogues that are only available in this collection.

  I love New York. I love these characters. I loved revisiting them for the bonus epilogues. I hope you love having all of these HEAs in one place.

  xx KL

  Contents

  Rebound with Me

  1. Nina

  2. Nina

  3. Vince

  4. Nina

  5. Vince

  6. Nina

  7. Vince

  8. Nina

  9. Vince

  10. Vince

  11. Nina

  12. Nina

  13. Vince

  14. Vince

  15. Nina

  16. Nina

  17. Nina

  18. Vince

  19. Vince

  20. Nina

  21. Nina

  22. Vince

  23. Nina

  24. Vince

  25. Nina

  26. Nina

  27. Vince

  28. Nina

  EPILOGUE – Vince

  (Bonus) EPILOGUE TWO - Vince

  Author’s Notes

  Connect with Kayley

  Also by Kayley Loring

  Come Back to Bed

  1. Bernadette

  2. Matt

  3. Bernadette

  4. Bernadette

  5. Matt

  6. Bernadette

  7. Matt

  8. Bernadette

  9. Matt

  10. Bernadette

  11. Matt

  12. Matt

  13. Bernadette

  14. Matt

  15. Matt

  16. Bernadette

  17. Matt

  18. Matt

  19. Bernadette

  20. Bernadette

  21. Matt

  22. Bernadette

  23. Matt

  24. Bernadette

  EPILOGUE – Matt

  (Bonus) EPILOGUE TWO

  Connect with Kayley

  Also by Kayley Loring

  Tonight You’re Mine

  Title Page

  THAT NIGHT

  1. Chase

  TONIGHT

  2. Aimee

  3. Chase

  4. Aimee

  5. Chase

  6. Aimee

  7. Chase

  8. Aimee

  9. Chase

  AFTER TONIGHT

  10. Chase

  11. Aimee

  12. Chase

  13. Aimee

  14. Aimee

  15. Chase

  16. Chase

  17. Aimee

  18. Chase

  19. Aimee

  20. Chase

  AFTER TODAY

  21. Chase

  22. Aimee

  23. Aimee

  24. Chase

  25. Aimee

  26. Chase

  27. Aimee

  Epilogue

  (Bonus) Epilogue Two - Aimee

  Acknowledgments

  Spotify Playlist

  Connect With Kayley

  The Plus Ones

  Title Page

  Kilig:

  Prologue - Roxy

  1. Keaton

  2. Roxy

  3. Keaton

  4. Keaton

  5. Roxy

  6. Keaton

  7. Roxy

  8. Keaton

  9. Keaton

  10. Roxy

  11. Keaton

  12. Roxy

  13. Keaton

  14. Roxy

  15. Keaton

  16. Roxy

  17. Keaton

  18. Roxy

  19. Keaton

  20. Roxy

  21. Keaton

  22. Roxy

  23. Keaton

  24. Roxy

  25. Keaton

  26. Roxy

  EPILOGUE – Keaton

  (Bonus) EPILOGUE TWO

  Author’s Note

  Connect with Kayley

  Also by Kayley Loring

  Rebound with Me

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018, 2020 by Kayley Loring

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Stacy Garcia, Graphics by Stacy

  Editing by Jenny Rarden

  For the one I almost rebounded with,

  And all the reckless hearts out there

  who are having way more fun than I am.

  1

  Nina

  “Are you there yet?” Marnie mumbles. “I’m hiding in the laundry room so we won’t get interrupted, but I forgot to bring snacks. I’m hungry.”

  I don’t usually talk on the phone when I’m walking around in public like the rest of New York, but I need my best friend and co-worker in my ear for moral support.

  “Not yet. I’m wearing four-inch heels. I can’t walk that fast.”

  “You own four-inch heels?”

  “Yes. How lucky am I that I don’t have to feel bad about being taller than Russell now?”

  Marnie snort laughs. “Please stop putting a positive spin on this. You just found out that your boss was bumping nasties with someone else while he was engaged to you. A little hateful swearing is in order.”

  She has a strong point. Unfortunately, my parents raised me to be an optimist. They taught me to look on the bright side of life, to see and speak of the good in people, and to never swear out loud. Which is why I am grateful to my clucktard former fiancé, who is the principal of the elementary school I teach at, for being so cou
rteous. He waited until the Saturday after the last day of the school year to come clean about falling in love with a twenty-two-year-old nanny named Sadie, whom he has secretly been boinking for the past two months. Now I have the entire summer to come to terms with this.

  Or to put it another way—after being together for three years, the motherflorker cheated on me for two whole months, and now I get to spend my summer break hating him, regretting the last three years of my life, dreading the next school year, and considering the possibility of a job at another school. Thus, I would be leaving the Brooklyn neighborhood, co-workers, kids, and community that I love just to avoid seeing the butt monkey’s stupid pointy face again.

  “At least now I have the luxury of getting drunk on a weekday,” I say. See—I just can’t help but put a positive spin on things. It’s a curse.

  “Amen, sister.”

  “Okay, I’m here. You may fetch your snacks now.”

  “You need me to walk you back home?”

  “Kind of. But I’ll need to have both hands free to hold all my booze, so…”

  “Let me know when you’re home. I’m gonna eat a block of cheese now.” She hangs up.

  I enter my neighborhood wine and liquor store, still wearing my dark sunglasses, with my head held high. My plan is to grab a bottle of something with over twelve percent alcohol in it and get back to my apartment without making eye contact with anyone.

  After spending the past two days holed up in my apartment, listening to breakup songs and eating expired pasta and cookies, it took me an hour to get ready to walk here. I did not want to risk running into my ex and his new girlfriend while looking like a hobo and scouting for booze. Hence, the armor of skinny jeans, heels, shiny straightened hair, and cherry-tinted lip gloss that is so slick it looks like I’ve been making out with a pan of bacon grease. I may be an inexperienced shell-shocked first grade teacher on the inside, but based on looks, I would be highly ranked in Maxim magazine’s Hot 100 Most In-Denial Dumped Women Who Need to Get Drunk Fast.

  I’ve never drowned my sorrows before, but it seems like the thing to do now. Marnie came over yesterday to bring me a shoulder to cry on, several packages of baby wipes, a juice box, and a baggie full of Goldfish crackers and carrot sticks. She’s a mom. And she’s the only person I’ve told so far about this whole scenario.

  What’s weird is…I haven’t actually cried yet. I was angry. Now I feel numb. I figure I should go through the motions of all the breakup behaviors exhibited in movies and TV shows so I can move things along. But not one of the Taylor Swift, Adele, Rihanna, or Pink heartbreak songs have gotten to me. So my plan is to get drunk, listen to country music, and force myself to cry, even if I pop a blood vessel doing it. If “Need You Now” by Lady Antebellum doesn’t move me to tears, then I will call Marnie’s husband’s therapist in the morning.

  Or try a different kind of alcohol.

  I wish I’d Googled “best alcoholic drink for recent breakups” before coming here. I usually drink wine, but I want to try something different. Something unfamiliar. Something more…virile than I’m used to. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Something that will make me feel different. Something that will make me feel anything.

  Removing my sunglasses, I let my eyes adjust to the lighting in the store. It’s twilight outside—perfectly believable that I’ve been out all day and just forgot to remove my sunglasses until now. The man at the cash register nods at me. I’ve never been to this store without Russell before. I’ve barely been anywhere in New York without Russell, now that I think about it. I wave at the man and try to look like someone who isn’t here to grab a bottle of alcohol to take home and get drunk on by herself. As if he’d care. It is literally his job to sell bottles of liquor to people, but I don’t want him to know that I’m here buying alcohol for myself.

  I need to stop caring so much about what other people think of me and get a flooking life.

  The bells above the door jingle in agreement as I plant myself in front of an aisle full of bottles that look like they mean business. Tonight, I’m not interested in those bottles of wine with the punny names and cute labels. Tonight, I want a bottle with a skull and crossbones on it… Well, a cute skull and crossbones at least.

  Tonight, I want… I turn my head to look at the guy who’s talking to the man at the cash register. They are joking with each other with ease—that Carroll Gardens neighborhood familiarity that I just don’t have yet because I’ve always had Russell by my side.

  Speaking of sides—the view of this guy’s backside is enough to drive a girl to drink. He must be a butt model. Is that a thing? The way his butt looks in those jeans just makes me want to do a little happy dance. This is the first time I’ve allowed myself to pay attention to a cute guy butt in three years. Russell’s was perfectly decent but nothing to write home about. I would write a rave Yelp review about this guy’s butt. I could write a dissertation on this guy’s butt.

  He’s wearing a gray T-shirt and black jeans, leather boots that aren’t completely laced up. Simple and casual, but somehow, he makes it look sophisticated and polished. And hot. He looks really hot. I don’t know why, but it looks like he could just get totally naked in three seconds. Like the clothes are only there to keep him from getting arrested.

  I also don’t know why I can’t stop picturing this guy naked and on top of me. I have to tear my eyes away from him. My cheeks are on fire. What is happening? I’m a first-grade teacher from Bloomington, Indiana—I do not have sexy thoughts about strangers in Brooklyn liquor stores. I’ve never seen this man before in my life, and already I’m imagining what it would feel like to have him penetrate me from different angles. The kind of guy I’ve never spoken to before. The kind of guy who’d never pay any attention to someone like me.

  I look away and back to the liquor bottles in front of me at the exact moment that I realize he’s turning toward me. My heart is racing. I feel like I’m thirteen and just spotted a cute boy at the 7-11. This is so dumb. I’m going to count to ten in French, and when I’m done, I will be as calm, cool, and collected as a French lady.

  Un, deux, trois…

  Oh holy merde. He’s four feet away from me.

  He smells amazing—like a spicy misty forest that I want to run through in a white silk nightgown while singing.

  “You look like you could use a little help.”

  Oh God, that sexy voice. I can feel that voice in my panties. I glance over at him. He’s grinning at me. Oh God, that grin. His whiskey-brown eyes are making me feel all warm and tingly through my center, and they should come with a warning label. But I bet every single woman he looks at the way he’s looking at me right now would ignore the warning anyway.

  “Me?”

  He laughs. “You.”

  Do not say anything about him helping you by getting naked or putting his penis inside of you.

  “Do you work here?”

  “No, but I do know my way around liquor. Professionally. I used to be a bartender. You looking for anything in particular?”

  “Yes. A bottle of something with a lot of alcohol in it.” I barely recognize my own voice. It’s husky. Maybe I’m coming down with a summer cold.

  “Well, you’ve come to the right store.” He was probably born with a husky voice. I bet he was a sexy baby. What is wrong with me?

  “I usually drink wine, but I wanted to try something with a little more of an…edge?” I smirk.

  I smirk?

  I don’t smirk.

  I am definitely smirking.

  He crosses his arms in front of his chest, nodding. This seems to please him. He leans toward me and looks kind of like a doctor diagnosing a patient and then says, “Okay. You want something you can mix with something else or straight up?”

  “I should probably mix something with something else first. Nothing too girly or fruity though.”

  “Got it.” He passes behind me and stands to my left, scanning the shelves. The nearness of him is electrifying. Som
e people have that kind of energy—especially in New York City. I’ve been around it. Never touched it on purpose. People like that are the third rail, and I’ve always stood as far away as possible from the yellow lines at the subway station. But something in this guy’s eyes tells me he has no interest in hurting me. “Mind if I ask what kind of mood you’re in?”