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Nipslip (A Scandalous Slip Story #2): The Slip Series, #2
Nipslip (A Scandalous Slip Story #2): The Slip Series, #2
Nipslip (A Scandalous Slip Story #2): The Slip Series, #2
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Nipslip (A Scandalous Slip Story #2): The Slip Series, #2

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One nipple.  A world of problems.

I own the runway.  Until my nipple pops out of my dress during New York Fashion Week and it suddenly owns me.  Being called a worthless gutter slut by a fuming designer is the least of my problems.  My career is swirling around the toilet like the other models' lunches. Until smoking hot Tate Decker steps in with a crazy idea about how his magazine can maybe salvage my livelihood. 

It's less than two feet in front of me.  Perfect and perky and pink.  And the woman it's attached to looks absolutely horrified.  I need to help her, and not just because she's beautiful and has a perfect rack.  Using my position in the industry to expose the volatile nature of our business puts my career in jeopardy in an attempt to save Riley's. I'm willing to risk that, but falling for her isn't part of the plan.

When love and tits are involved...

Things can get slippery.

***Nipslip is the second book in the Slip Series but can be read as a stand-alone***

LanguageEnglish
PublisherGwyn McNamee
Release dateApr 23, 2018
ISBN9781386151258
Nipslip (A Scandalous Slip Story #2): The Slip Series, #2
Author

Gwyn McNamee

Gwyn McNamee is an attorney, writer, wife, and mother (to one human baby and two fur babies). Originally from the Midwest, Gwyn relocated to her husband’s home town of Las Vegas in 2015 and is enjoying her respite from the cold and snow. Gwyn has been writing down her crazy stories and ideas for years and finally decided to share them with the world. She loves to write stories with a bit of suspense and action mingled with romance and heat. When she isn’t either writing or voraciously devouring any books she can get her hands on, Gwyn is busy adding to her tattoo collection, golfing, and stirring up trouble with her perfect mix of sweetness and sarcasm (usually while wearing heels). Gwyn is the author of The Hawke Family series, The Slip Series, The Deadliest Sin Series, The Inland Seas Series, The Supernatural Love Stories in the Absurd (written as her alter-ego, DP Payne), and several stand-alone novels.

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    Book preview

    Nipslip (A Scandalous Slip Story #2) - Gwyn McNamee

    1

    The white-hot spotlights and camera flashes create a halo of light, effectively blinding me.

    Thank God for that because I don't want to be able to see the looks on the faces of the people in the audience right now.

    I reach down and adjust the strap of the dress I'm wearing to re-cover my now exposed breast.

    Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

    This is supposed to be the highlight of my career, wearing the finale dress for one of the biggest designers in all of fashion here at New York Fashion Week, and instead of making waves in the fashion industry for my poise and good work, it looks like I'm now going to go down for a damn wardrobe malfunction.

    The floaty, white shift dress is elegant and feminine and everything beautiful, but the strap just slipped off my shoulder before I even knew what was happening.

    Only the cold air of the venue hitting my exposed nipple alerted me to the problem.

    Move!

    The command breaks me from the freeze I'm in at the end of the runway. I don't know who said it since I can't see the audience, but that doesn't mean I didn't hear their gasps and chuckles when the dress slipped down to expose my boob.

    My nipple had instantly hardened, making things even worse. I swear, I can cut ice with my nips when they are hard. And there it was, standing at attention for the entire fashion world to see.

    But there's nothing I can do about that now. I make the turn and start the long walk back down the runway with the eyes of the entire audience trained on me.

    Nathaniel is going to kill me.

    The second I set foot backstage, I am going to literally be murdered by a tiny, fuming gay man.

    This is his big moment, his day to shine, and now, his entire show has been ruined. No one's going to rave about his dresses or how amazing his new designs are. All they’re going to be talking about is my nipslip.

    The mile-high heels I'm wearing click, click, click against the hard surface of the runway, matching the thudding of my heart in my chest. It’s like walking down the hall toward my own execution.

    And I wouldn’t be one of the lucky ones who dies quickly. The way things are going, I’ll probably flop around like a fish while the drugs that are supposed to kill me just torture me endlessly.

    Every model’s worst nightmare is a wardrobe malfunction. Well, that, or slipping and falling on the runway. Frankly, I would give anything for a slip and fall right now. Maybe I would knock myself unconscious, and then I won’t have to deal with what I know is coming.

    But no such luck.

    I reach the end of the runway and turn back toward the audience to give them the last look at me in the outfit.

    Deep breaths, Riley. Get your shit together.

    I barely take two steps backstage before he's on me.

    What the hell just happened? His blue eyes bore into mine before they move down to stare at my chest. Tiny hands wrap around my biceps, squeezing until it’s painful, and he shakes me. How could you let this happen, Riley?

    The aggression he’s showing stuns me momentarily, rendering me speechless.

    I…I don’t know. I guess the dress wasn't taped on well enough. Some assistant had spent five minutes laying double-sided tape along the edges of the silky dress to try to ensure I remained covered, but obviously, she did a real shit job.

    He releases me and throws up his hands in disgust. Tape! Now! One of the assistants bustles over and drops the role of double-sided sticky tape in his outstretched hand. I can't believe this happened. I can't believe you're ruining my fucking premiere.

    My eyes burn with unshed tears as he rips at the tape violently. I’m sorry.

    "You’re sorry? Sorry doesn't undo what just happened, Riley. I gave you the chance of a lifetime, and you fucking blew it for me and for yourself."

    He’s right.

    This was the chance of a lifetime. The pinnacle of my career so far, and now, it’s ruined.

    A single tear trickles down my face.

    Oh no, you don’t. Turn off the waterworks. We don't have time to fix your full makeup before we need to go back out on stage for the final walk.

    What?

    Dammit.

    How could I forget about the final walk? Designers always walk the runway with the entire collection after the show. And I’m wearing the damn finale dress, which means walking arm in arm with the nasty, angry little man screaming at me right now.

    You can’t expect me to go back out there. I can’t face the press, the other designers, the entire fashion world. Not after they just saw my tit flying in the breeze.

    He moves the strap of the dress and presses the double-sided tape firmly onto my breast. You're going back out there, and you're gonna act like nothing happened. Paste on a smile and work that runway like everything is just peachy. You got it? MAKE UP! You have thirty seconds to control your blubbering.

    With a huff, Nathaniel storms away from me and over to where the models are lining up to make their final walk.

    Someone appears with a powder brush, a tube of mascara, and eyeliner and sets to work trying to fix my face before he shoves me toward the congregating group.

    You can do this, Riley.

    I take three deep breaths and gently brush my hands over the dress to ensure it’s in place. It’s one of the most beautiful pieces I've ever seen, but it will forever be tainted by what happened. I know Nathaniel knows that. Everyone on that stage knows that.

    The thought of my career in New York, that was just beginning to take off, dying so quickly, has the tears pooling in my eyes again, but I fan my face, trying to control myself.

    A firm hand grips my bicep, nails digging in so hard, I have to bite my lip from crying out.

    Don't you dare cry. You've done enough damage as it is.

    I jerk away from Nathaniel as the first model steps out onto the runway.

    He’s a total psycho.

    If he had a weapon right now, I bet he’d use it.

    The rest of the models file out until finally, Nathaniel and I are the only ones left. He shoves me out onto the walkway, and I plaster on my best indifferent look. Models are supposed to be poised. Models are supposed to be sexy. Models are not supposed to cry. We are emotionless vessels for the clothes, so I need to do my part if I want any chance of salvaging what's left of my career.

    Nathaniel links his arm through mine as we walk down the runway. He waves and smiles and yells, Thank you, thank you, thank you, to the hundreds of people applauding us. When we reach the end of the runway, he removes his arm and steps

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