I fell head over heart for Max, Lauren, and Steve in Three and couldn't wait to read more of them in Four. I fell even more for them in this part of their story. There is passion and drama as we pick up with these three wanting to make four. I loved the idea of them making babies. What fantastic fathers Max and Steve would make, but nothing is easy for them. Someone comes into their lives from Steve's past and is a complication and someone who eases them at the same time. I swooned and cried and fanned myself quite a few times during this part of their story and so enjoyed visiting them again.
I give Four 4 hearts!
I give Four 4 hearts!
It’s been a year since Max and I overcame our commitment fears and chased away our demons, a year in a blissful poly relationship with Steve. And now we’re all set to become four.
It should be the best time of my life, of our lives; trying for a baby with the two hot men who keep me warm at night.
But when Steve’s friend James arrives from London, an over-the-top-theatrical scene player with his own agenda, and a whole lotta history just waiting to reignite, Steve suddenly doesn’t seem like the guy we fell in love with.
He’s changing, morphing into a different man before our eyes.
Lauren Price is happy living with the two men she loves and life couldn’t be any sweeter. What started as just a little fun a year ago – a girl, two guys, and a whole lot of sex – has become a deep three-way love she hopes will last forever.
They want to be a four – Max, Lauren, Steve and their unborn baby. That’s what they said, that’s what they planned.
But life in love doesn’t follow the rules, and soon four doesn’t look quite like the three-plus-one Lauren intended it to be.
Although a sequel to THREE, S. C. Daiko’s first Erotic Menage Romance, FOUR is a standalone story and, like its predecessor, contains vivid erotica. 18+ only. If you’re looking for a sexy, emotional read then FOUR is definitely your number.
There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere as Max and Steve move their attention toward something behind me. Not something. Someone. I turn and stare, my mouth opening and my chin in danger of hitting the floor. The man approaching has long dark-brown hair that falls in waves, reaching to the top of his shoulders. Symmetrical features: an oval-shaped face, topaz-colored eyes (accentuated with eyeliner), and perfectly proportioned bow-shaped lips. He’s wearing shorts that barely cover his pert ass, and his shapely legs are shaved and tanned. James isn’t much taller than me, I guess, and I’m only five foot four. My gaze lingers over the tattoos on his bare arms, the same tats as Steve’s. Shit!
“Good evening,” James’ voice is surprisingly deep for such a compact man, and he speaks with a plummy English accent. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.” It’s like he’s some kind of celebrity making an entrance.
Steve envelops James in a bear-hug. “Let me introduce you to Max and Lauren.”
“Haven’t we met before?” James says to Max. “At Club Complicit, wasn’t it?”
Max laughs. “I’m surprised you remember.”
James’ eyes rove up and down Max’s divine body. “I would never forget a hottie like you.” And he winks, the nerve of the guy!
I clear my throat, and James decides to notice me. “So this is little Miss America, is it? Delightful.”
A blush blooms up my neck. “Pleased to meet you, James,” I lie. “Welcome to Tivoli. I hope you’ll love it here as much as I do.”
“I’m sure I will, darling.” Dahling indeed! James sure is over-the-top theatrical, and I bet there isn’t a sincere bone in his body.
“So, what can I offer you? Prosecco, perhaps?” Max lifts the bottle from the wine cooler. “This is Cartizze from Valdobbiadene.” He pours James a glass. “It’s a match for any champagne you’ll come across. Try it and tell me what you think.”
“We have champers too,” Steve interjects, “but this fizz is fantastic.”
James lifts the flute to his lips and takes a sip. “Mmm. You’re absolutely right. By far the best prosecco I’ve tasted.” And he smiles, a smile that lifts the corners of his mouth but doesn’t engage his eyes; it’s like he’s had a Botox injection.
“So, my dear,” James gives my dress a disapproving look. “I was hoping you’d know the best shops for Italian fashion.”
S. C. Daiko, aka Siobhan Daiko, lives with her husband and two cats in northern Italy, in a converted artist’s studio with gorgeous views across the Venetian plain. Originally from the UK, where she was a languages teacher, Siobhan occasionally leaves her writing cave when she has visitors, and likes nothing better than plying them with prosecco and introducing them to the dolce vita. An avid reader of all genres of romance, she loves writing about strong heroines who know what they want and aren’t afraid to go for it, and hot alpha males with loving hearts.
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