Deliciously British Read online

  DELICIOUSLY BRITISH

  Complete Story

  Scarlett Avery

  Copyright © 2017 by Scarlett Avery

  Scarlett Avery / Absolutely Naughty Publishing

  Edited by RJ Locksley

  Proofread by Chrissy Becker

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. This book is for sale to adults over 18.

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Deliciously British / Scarlett Avery

  ISBN 978-1-987943-57-3

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Foreword I

  Foreword II

  Dirty British Romance Trilogy

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Get The Storyboard

  I Really Love Reviews

  Collaborate

  More Saucy Ménage Romance

  A World of Bad Boys Awaits!

  Acknowledgements

  Where Scarlett Hangs Out!

  Complete Disclaimer

  About The Author

  Foreword I

  Dear Reader,

  This romance has been revised and re-released. It was first released as British Rendezvous. Then it was released as British Temptation. Unfortunately, Amazon has changed their approval requirements, which means, I’ve had to change the title. Again.

  Please don’t be confused… the characters are the same. Their story is the same. We just have a new title and a new cover.

  Scarlett

  Foreword II

  I can't thank you enough for purchasing this sizzling read.

  I’m absolutely passionate about what I do. Once I start writing, I just can't stop.

  It's taking me a whole lifetime to get to the point where I’m able to live out my dream every single day.

  The captivating stories and the enigmatic characters live with me throughout the writing process. I think you'll quickly notice how much care and attention I put into each one of my romance novels.

  Another thing you’ll discover about me is how much I love my readers!

  To thank you for buying this romance novel, I’d love for you to lose yourself in even more sultriness, sexiness and seduction!

  When you sign-up today, I’ll send you an exclusive

  Storyboard for this romance.

  Sign-up TODAY!

  www.RomanceBooksRock.com

  * * *

  Dirty British Romance Trilogy

  Romance #1: Deliciously British

  Romance #2: Bad Boy SEALs

  Romance #3: You're All I Think About

  Get The Inside Scoop On My Next Romance!

  Sign Up Today By Visiting:

  www.RomanceBooksRock.com

  * * *

  CHAPTER 1

  Delilah

  “Wow. The colors of this painting are so vivid,” I mumble under my breath as I scroll down the page. “The artist hit the bullseye when he decided to call his latest piece Shades of Creative Gluttony. It’s very apropos.” I zoom in to better take in the myriad of chatoyant hues. “No wonder this artist’s paintings go for tens of thousands of dollars and no one seems to bat an eyelash at the steep price tag. The guy’s truly talented.” I continue talking to myself.

  I’m fully immersed in my work when the front door swings open. The little bell immediately forces my eyes up to the tall, smiling man all dressed in navy blue, walking towards me carrying what seems to be another delivery.

  “Good morning, Delilah,” Harold says before dropping the heavy load on the corner of my desk. “Or should I say happy hump day? It seems to be an expression you Americans favor.”

  I laugh. Since I started this job, Harold Dunbar, our regular delivery guy, thrives on using as many American colloquial expressions as possible. He’s so intent on it, you’d think he was learning a foreign language. “Well, you wouldn’t be entirely wrong. After all, it is Wednesday,” I answer in a jovial voice.

  “It seems like I’m making some steady progress with my American, Miss Babcock.” Harold grins proudly.

  “You’re taking this way too seriously, but I’m having a heck of a lot of fun being your honorary teacher, Mr. Dunbar.” I laugh.

  Harold places both his hands against my desk and leans in closer. Before he even opens his mouth, I have a sneaking suspicion I know exactly where this conversation is heading. “May I say that I have visions of you being my very domineering tutor and us having to slave over homework well into the wee hours of the night until I get it perfectly right. Pity I’m such a slow learner. This might have to go on for months.” He winks.

  “Dream on, buddy.” I laugh aloud.

  Harold shrugs. “Well, you can’t blame a bloke for trying.”

  “Actually, I can. You’re relentless, Harold. You’ve been at it since my first day here.”

  “I’m hoping that in time, I’ll wear you down.”

  “You’re too funny.”

  Harold is in his mid-forties. All the women in my office warned me on day one that he was going to flirt shamelessly. He always does. He’s been divorced three times and has six kids. As fun and quirky as he is, he’s carry
ing way too much baggage for my liking. Not to mention he’s not my type.

  “All right, I’ll take a hint. For now.” He winks again. “On a different note, I’m glad to see you’re cheery and you’re not allowing this dreadful British weather to dampen your spirits. I mean, for the longest time I thought the book Fifty Shades of Grey related to our depressing and dreary weather.”

  His comment sends me into a laughing fit. When I finally manage to get a grip on myself, I answer him. “Oh, my God, Harold, you’re hilarious.”

  “I do my best. My biggest reward is to see your beautiful smile and those blue eyes sparkle like gems.”

  “You’re just a big ol’ flirt, but thank you, sir, for the compliment,” I say coyly. “To answer your question, I’m enjoying myself way too much to allow a few clouds to bring me down.”

  “I love your attitude.” He cheers. “Even if they’re not for you, I’m sure these help immensely. They look like a huge vibrant kaleidoscope,” he says changing subject. He points his chin to the parcel set on my desk and my gaze shifts to it.

  “I truly think this bouquet of flowers is the most beautiful assortment you’ve brought so far this week,” I marvel.

  “I’ll have to agree with you, Delilah. These are positively magnificent and their aroma is absolutely enchanting. It’s clear someone is groveling.” Harold chuckles.

  “Well, someone messed up pretty badly so I guess this is the price to pay.” I smile.

  “May I take them to her or should I leave them with you?”

  “She’s on an important phone call with an artist she’s been courting for months. The minute she’s free, I’ll take them to her,” I reply.

  “Excellent. I have no doubt that pretty soon I’ll be delivering you flowers, my dear.” Harold winks at me.

  “From your lips to God’s ears. That said, since I’ve only been here three weeks, I can’t expect miracles from Her.” Not to mention that my dating record is nothing to envy… even God knows that.

  “I think you’ve got it all wrong,” he states boldly.

  “You do?” I ask. “What’s your theory on the subject, Mr. Dunbar?”

  Harold straightens up and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s very simple, Miss Babcock. You seem to have forgotten the effect of newness.”

  “The what of what?” I frown.

  “New city, new job, new opportunities.”

  “You sound like my cousin, who also happens to be my best friend.”

  “Hmmmm, is she single?” Harold asks.

  I roll my eyes at him. “You just don’t know how to take no for an answer, do you?”

  “I guess that would explain why I ended up with so many failed marriages and so many babies.” He chuckles. “Seriously, if it’s not me—and let it be known that I will be completely devastated if it’s not—there’s another bloke out there dying to get to know you.” Harold looks down at his watch. “Well, I’d better get out of here and head to my next delivery. Like always, it’s been a pleasure, Delilah. Have a great day.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be back.” I lose it again at his imitation of former action hero-slash-governor Arnold Schwarzenegger’s distinctive accent.

  The minute Harold waves me goodbye, I dive right back into my work. Twenty minutes later, I straighten my back from my hunched position and stretch. When I do, I take note of the time. “Oh, gosh, it’s already nine thirty-eight.” My boss isn’t going to be impressed with me if she’s forced to sit through a three-hour meeting without food. “Percy should’ve been here by now,” I mutter. I pick up the phone to find out what’s caused the delay on the catering I ordered when the front door of the gallery swings open again. “Thank God,” I let out, relieved.

  “Good morning, sunshine.” Percy smiles wide as he approaches my desk, his arms weighed down with bags.

  I really hate the nickname he has for me. Coming from him, it just sounds gauche. Since I don’t have time to get into it this morning, I simply respond, “Good morning, Percy.” I jump to my feet and rush to meet him halfway. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you,” I add, taking stock of the bags he’s holding.

  “All the babes say that.” He grins. As if.

  I choose to ignore his comment. “What took you so long?”

  He returns the favor by pretending he didn’t hear my question. “By the way, your sexy American accent drives me absolutely mad. I could listen to you talk all day long and never tire.”

  “Percy—”

  Undeterred by my attempt to reroute this conversation, he presses on. “And may I add this outfit fits you like a glove,” he says, sweeping his eyes the length of my body. “Meow,” he says when his eyes drop at my feet. “If I were to look the word ‘sexy’ in the dictionary, I have no doubt your picture would pop up… especially with those shoes.” Who the hell still uses a dictionary nowadays?

  “Percy, let’s try to stay on topic here.” It’s not that I’m not flattered, but the man is a hopeless cause.

  “All right, then. You pay a woman a few compliments, and she completely ignores you,” he huffs, puffing out his chest. I give him an are-you-kidding-me look to let him know we’re so not going down that road. Not when he’s this late. “To answer your question, along with this balmy Mediterranean weather”—the sarcasm is thick—“London comes with the most nightmarish traffic jams, especially when there’s an accident. No wonder we’ve been named the most congested city in Europe.” He punctuates his sentence by lifting the corner of his mouth. It’s more a grimace than a smile. “I’m sorry, sunshine, I didn’t account for that, but I’m here now and with twenty minutes to spare.”

  Not so fast, buddy. “I’m very grateful you’re here. But for the record you’re ten minutes late, Percy. The meeting is at ten o’clock and I specifically asked you to be here by nine-thirty. I still need time to set up all this food,” I say, waving my finger at the bags he’s clutching, “in the conference room.”

  Percy opens his mouth to answer, but suddenly his attention diverts to the very large bouquet of flowers still sitting on the corner of my desk. His eyebrows rise before he turns his attention to me. “Do you already have a suitor? Has someone dared to claim your heart before I even had a chance?”

  For the love of God. Not this again. “Percy,” I start in a firm voice. “There’s no time for soap-opera drama. You and I”—I wave my finger between us—“it’s just never going to happen.”

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he retorts.

  Give it a rest, already. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

  “You’ll come around. I know you will.” Not even if you were the last man on earth.

  Percy McAllister is Tamara McAllister’s older brother. She’s the baker extraordinaire behind one of London’s most popular food shops. Although Tamara studied to be a chef, her love of pastries won out. Her delightful sugary morsels are absolutely to die for. Her brother is the other part of the operation and usually he remains in the background—and that’s a good thing. He’s the one who takes care of catering orders, while Tamara takes care of walk-in customers. Nick, their delivery guy, is the one who does our runs once I place my order. Alas, he’s home today nursing a cold and that’s why Tamara’s very forward brother is standing in front of me thinking he has a hope in hell.

  Percy is thirty-seven. He’s in the middle of a nasty divorce with his baby mama and he already has a girl—if not two—on the side. Thank God for the office—or should I say gallery—rumor mill, without which I wouldn’t know all this about these guys who think they can pull a fast one on me just because I’m a newcomer. Even without all this baggage, just like Harold, Percy isn’t my type. I love tall men, but I like them beefy and well-built. Not to mention he’s way too old for me.