Download PDF Ivy's LeagueBy Nia Forrester ~ peiis-swiitmemoriies

Download PDF Ivy's LeagueBy Nia Forrester

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Ivy's LeagueBy Nia Forrester

Download PDF Ivy's LeagueBy Nia Forrester

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By any measure, she is a success. By any measure that is, except her own.

Ivy Livingstone has entrée into Washington DC’s political elite, lives in an exclusive neighborhood and sends her son to a sought-after private school. But her beautiful life is a gilded cage. She is independent, but alone. And unfortunately, very few men are confident enough to believe they are in Ivy’s league.

Eli Thomason has all the confidence in the world, except when it comes to his own judgment about women. And his attraction to Ivy Livingstone proves him right. She is everything he shouldn’t want: a woman above his station and beyond his means. He overreached once before and still lives with the heartbreaking consequences, so why does he find it so difficult to leave Ivy alone?

And if their own baggage isn’t enough, Ivy and Eli have to contend with circumstances around them that seem to confirm their worst fear: that the bond they’re beginning to build can’t possibly last.

Sales Rank: #153789 in eBooks
Published on: 2015-09-20
Released on: 2015-09-20
Format: Kindle eBook

From the Author
From 'Ivy's League':

For months now, she had been reason enough to make Eli want to roll out of bed in the morning and get Zion to school on time. Like him, she was part of the first wave, getting there each morning no later than seven-thirty, pulling up in the delicious dark blue BMW 740i and exiting one long leg at a time. She was chocolate-brown and had a nature-defying combination of slender limbs with ass for days. The first time he saw her, Eli could have sworn he drooled a little bit.

Who's that? he'd asked Zion, casually, nudging his son in the shoulder.

Jaden's Mommy.

Yeah, but what's Jaden's last name? Eli asked, exasperated.

I don't know. He's in Miss Turner's room.

Does he have a daddy?

Everybody has a daddy, Daddy.

So that was that. Eli was left to stare and wonder.

Every morning for months now, he'd pull in and hope to see her, striding across the parking lot with that stately walk of hers, like an Ashanti warrior princess, dusky-skinned and beautiful, legs glistening, head held high. She rarely spoke to other parents, and didn't seem to notice the daggers that many of the other women shot at her, because though her walk was confident, her eyes were not. She kept her eyes slightly downcast much of the time, like she was hoping to pass by unnoticed.

As though there was any chance of that.

The other fathers noticed her too, glancing out of the corner of their eyes, probably straining their necks not to look. And they couldn't look, because Woodmore wasn't that kind of place. They were all supposed to be fine, Upstanding Christian Brothers, only noticing their wives. Eli, on the other hand, couldn't give a shit. He didn't have a wife, so he felt perfectly entitled to stare.

Once or twice their eyes met, and she looked quickly away, before he had a chance to smile or anything; and he regretted that the setting wasn't different because he sure enough would have stepped to her. As it was, he was doomed to simply looking, until and unless they crossed paths elsewhere.

This morning though, just as he was leaving Mrs. Weathers and she was coming in with her son, trotting a little as though late, the opportunity presented itself. One trot was misplaced and down she went. Truth be told, it was as ungraceful a fall as Eli had ever witnessed, like a baby might fall, but he didn't care. He was too distracted by the sight of her exposed behind, dark skin barely covered by black lace. And then her son was crouching next to her, deftly covering his mother's bum.

Good thing too, since Eli--and he was sure most of the men present--was in danger to developing a very hard to explain, though perfectly natural masculine response. Getting his wits about him, Eli rushed over to help her, but she hastily brushed away all offers, clearly mortified. Everyone else moved along quickly out of deference to her obvious embarrassment, but Eli had no intention of letting this chance pass him by. They exchanged a few words, which he would have liked to have made more of, then her son rushed her off.

He watched her enter the school building, once or twice putting a hand up to adjust her hair and see that it was in place, gestures that betrayed how shaken she still was by the fall. But with her pretty white skirt against long dark legs, the light coral shade of her blouse contrasting with smooth arms, she still looked perfect to him.

About the Author
Nia Forrester lives and writes in Washington DC where, by day, she is a public policy attorney and by night, she crafts woman-centered fiction that examines the complexities of life, love and the human condition.

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