**WATTPAD HQ EDITOR'S PICK Nov/Dec 2021**
BOOK ONE in the STEAMY FORBIDDEN ROMANCE series
Coralie Watson, a British thirty-year-old living in San Francisco, has a tormented past with men. Physical and mental abuse, abandonment issues, incompatibili...
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♫ I wanna bite your lips, do some freaky shit I could picture it, like I'm seeing 20/20 Even if it's temporary ♪ (FLETCHER—The One)
Though there were a few performers left, most of the audience focused on Coralie as she reentered the bar. A few bros high-fived her while attempting to ask for her digits. An elderly couple offered to buy her a drink. A girl who couldn't have been much older than twenty-one begged her for singing advice.
Roger told her he was impressed, Delilah covered her in smooches and hearty encouragements, and Michael glued to her side, one arm around her upper waist. He kept her close—and more so whenever guys sauntered up to congratulate her. It was cute how he tensed whenever she garnered attention from good-looking dudes.
And yet... Coralie wasn't as flattered by his attention as she'd hoped.
Was it because she'd just walked out on the opportunity of a lifetime by declining to accept Ryan's token of affection? By denying the chance to resume their near-kiss, to turn it into something more? By declining to see him naked, for real, and to finally feel all the things he'd described to her in their lengthy—and often X-rated—video-conversations?
She almost wanted to break free from Michael's subtle possessive—but adorable—grip and scurry outside to determine if Ryan was still there. Maybe he'd be waiting for her, calling her bluff. Or maybe he'd slipped into the bar again without her noticing, and was watching her with Michael, sipping on a mojito while trying not to be jealous.
Somehow, the notion of his potential jealousy woke a few flutters in her tummy, and she liked them. To imagine him glaring at her and Michael, realizing he'd missed his shot twelve years prior, almost erased the waves of regret she was experiencing.
At midnight, the judges convened in the back room to decide of the victor, but it didn't take them long to resurface with an agreement. One of them hopped up onto the stage, peered through the crowd, and when her gaze settled on Coralie, she waved her up.
"The winner of this inaugural open-mic night is Coralie Amber Watson!"
Coralie's face flushed and her arms became numb as she covered her mouth. "What?"
Michael gripped her waist tighter and pulled her even closer. "You won! I knew it!" He gently withdrew her hand from her mouth and leaned in to kiss her.
It was sweet, simple. His lips were pleasantly soft, and the kiss itself was quite lovely—but nothing woke in Coralie's abdomen.
All she felt was confusion with the onrush of noise as everyone surrounding them clapped and whistled.
They ushered her onto the podium where Roger met her and declared her prize—a live show every Friday, with her own songs.
It was a golden opportunity to showcase her work, to gain recognition, to draw in someone who'd have connections in the music industry.
