This story appeared in the charity anthology Heart2Heart, vol. 6 but now has new content. I own the H2H book but I haven’t gotten around to reading it so I was really happy for the opportunity to read an early copy of this novella that includes a new short story for Chance and Roman.

If you follow Lane Hayes at all on social media you will almost immediately recognize places in this story that she visited with her husband in 2022. It was fun for me to see her use her travel adventures in a story. The London Chance is a nice novella that can easily be read in an afternoon or evening. I love this length of story for just that reason.

Chance and Roman hit it off as online friends, chatting through a dating app. Unfortunately, things don’t go so well when they finally get a chance to meet in person. Lane Hayes did a great job of turning that less than great dinner date into a story that is fun and sexy. They got their HEA in the original story and the new short story for them continued the sexy, flirty tone of the original.

I really loved reading this delightful and sexy rom-com. Fans who have read Fairy Cakes in Winter might recognize a cameo by a character from that book. The two stories are only lightly connected so you can enjoy reading them in any order.

Reviews for Lane Hayes

♥ Amazon US ♥ Amazon CA ♥ Amazon UK ♥

“What time is it?” I grumbled, rubbing my stubbled jaw.

“Half one,” a deep, rumbly voice replied.

I spun on my heels with my mouth wide open, unsure where to begin. An apology, a thank-you, maybe even a fuck-you.…Words weren’t my friend without caffeine and if it was really one thirty in the afternoon, I was going to have a difficult time navigating this one.

If I was going to unravel in a foreign country, was an audience necessary? And better question…did it have to be this man?

Roman stepped into the room, instantly taking over the space. The combination of his height, broad shoulders, and broody presence made him seem intimidating as fuck even in a navy V-neck sweater, casual jeans, and bare feet. His hair flopped roguishly over his right eye, which should have softened his sharp features, but…it didn’t. He was devilishly handsome and sexy and— I think I puked on his shoes last night. Oh, please let this be a bad dream.

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping for a scene change and a new cast when I opened them again.
Nope. I was still in Roman’s guest room, standing three feet from the man himself, wearing his T-shirt and—
“Are these your boxers?” I asked, plucking at the silky red fabric.

One corner of his mouth twisted in wry amusement. “They were a gift. You can have them. How are you feeling?”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’ve been better. I’m sorry about—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved dismissively and moved to the doorway. “Would you like coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please.”

He smiled kindly. “You got it. I’ll make toast and bacon too.”

“Thank you. Coffee is fine, but—” I paused to look around the immaculate room. “I need my clothes.”

“Trust me. You don’t want your clothes.”

“Huh?”

“I threw your socks and underwear in the wash, but your suit and shirt needed to be dry-cleaned. They’ll be ready tomorrow. I’ll grab a pair of sweatpants and socks for you. You’re welcome to shower. The toothbrush on the counter is the one you used last night. I’ll leave clothes on the banister for you. Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.”

Roman was gone before I could thank him or protest. I decided I wasn’t ready to deal with the fuzzier parts of last night that had resulted in my clothing immediately needing to be dry-cleaned. I headed for the bathroom instead.

The deliciously hot shower under a wide spray felt so amazing, I never wanted to get out. And the thick towel on the warming rack was a slice of nirvana. I dried myself, then wrapped the towel around my waist and wiped steam off the mirror. I scanned the marble-and-glass haven as I brushed my teeth, sighing at the very unwelcome memory of kneeling on the tiled floor in front of the porcelain god.

How was I going to face this man? I’d been a fucking mess last night. Running into traffic, dancing in the rain…and oh…shit. I’d called him daddy.

More than once.

Heat bloomed across my cheeks as I rinsed and patted my mouth dry, but I couldn’t exactly hide in here. I slipped the boxers and tee on and found a pair of gray sweats and black socks perched on the banister post where Roman said they’d be. I finished dressing, finger-combed my short hair, and took one last cleansing breath before following the scent of coffee downstairs.