Lynsey M. Stewart

“She tried to hold her breasts in her hands but her side boob game was strong and that small curve was driving me bloody crazy.”
― Lynsey M. Stewart, A Novel Christmas

“Here we are, sir,’ Blake said as we rolled onto the bumpy track that constituted the airport car park. It all felt oddly familiar, the chauffeur-driven car, the dark-haired brooding male, the name check of sir. And as the aeroplane came into view, I suddenly understood why it all felt so familiar. Oh, fuck. Drew was Christian Grey…but far less controlling. This felt surreal. I was expecting to hear the first bars of ‘Love Me Like You Do’ blaring out at any second. ‘Trust me?’ Drew asked as he opened my door. ‘Are you taking me to your playroom?’ I asked biting my lip for good measure. He raised his eyebrow in question. ‘Drew, you couldn’t be more Christian Grey!’ ‘I’m pretty sure he had a helicopter,’ he replied smiling. ‘He does, but we’ll let that slip.’ ‘Absolutely not,’ he replied. ‘Real romance heroes fly fucking planes.”
― Lynsey M. Stewart, A Novel Christmas