Ian is a hot shot Wall Street broker whose work hard-play hard philosophy catches up to him when he’s wrongly accused of insider trading and must convince a beautiful SEC agent that he’s more than just a careless playboy.

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Hot Asset

Lara & Ian's Love Story

21 Wall Street, Volume One

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Details

  • This series is Amazon-exclusive.
  • Steamy, with explicit sex scenes.
  • This book is written in first-person, alternating the heroine and heroine's POV.

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Description

Featured on Inside Edition.

A sexy agent hounds Wall Street’s hottest new wolf in an exhilarating novel from New York Times bestselling author Lauren Layne.

Ian Bradley is the definition of a Wall Street hotshot: seven-figure salary, designer suits, and a corner office. His drive off the floor is just as potent. Every woman who knows him has felt the rush. But now he’s met his match in Lara McKenzie—a woman with the power to bring Ian to his knees.

An ambitious, whip-smart daughter of FBI agents, Lara is a rising star in fighting white-collar crime. Her latest case—the investigation of Ian Bradley for insider trading—could make her career. She knows a scoundrel when she sees one. Ian fits the bill: a cocky, ridiculously handsome bad boy with a slick swagger.

She’ll do anything to prove he’s guilty. He’ll do anything to prove he’s not. But it’s only a matter of time before their fierce battle of wits gets oh so hot and personal. Now, taking down Ian has become more than business for Lara. It’s become a pleasure—and there’s more at risk than she ever dreamed.

Excerpt

His other hand comes up, catches my other elbow. “You don’t have to cushion the blow, Lara. If you don’t want to be seen with me because of the stain, you can just tell me. I can take it.”

His voice is light and teasing, and a laugh bubbles out before I can stop it, my head dropping forward in defeat. Only he’s right there, so my forehead rests on his chest. I mean to pull back, but his hand moves from my arm, slipping under my hair to cup the back of my neck. He squeezes lightly, as though wanting to take away some of my tension. And maybe he can, because I let myself stay still, just for a moment, and I know it’s crazy, but when I pull away, I feel a little bit steadier.
“Thanks.” My throat is dry, and I clear it, try again. “Thank you.”
His hands fall away. “You’re welcome.”

Our gazes lock and hold for a long moment, and I find myself wishing so badly that things could be different. That I wasn’t SEC. That he wasn’t Wall Street. That there was no investigation. That the stakes weren’t my dream career of the FBI versus his career and reputation on the line.
I wish he wasn’t a notorious womanizer. I wish I knew how to flirt . . .