Review: Her Best Friend's Lover

Her Best Friend's Lover by Shiloh Walker
My rating: 1 of 5 stars

1 ⭐- Ugh! Didn't like it or triggers or pet peeve!
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Spoiler
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Our heroine is a loser who loves him from afar for years.
He loves another woman, fucks everything that has a hole, rubs the sexual conquests in the face of the heroine, treats her like one of the guys, arranges data for her that she accepts passively. One of these guys tries to rape her.
The first time they fuck he is completely drunk because he discovered that the woman he loves is pregnant again and he when in orgasm he calls his ex's name, the idiot heroine is a virgin and she becomes pregnant and he does not even remember who he had sex with.
She does not tell him that he is the father of the child.
Horrible. All that annoys me a lot.

Dale flirted with any and every female he met.

Five years after losing her heart to him, just watching him amble in her direction, her heart still did the same little dance.

“Ohhh, yeah,” Dale murmured. “She’s…amazing.” The little actress he had spent the night with had picked up some unusual talents. That woman could do things with her mouth…

“If you aren’t careful, you are going to grow old alone, Lauren. What are you looking for? Why are you so picky?”

Dale was also still in love with a woman from his past, a girl who was happily married to her high school sweetheart.

She was going on a double date with Dale and some golf buddy and the alluring Allison, his latest actress, to see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat in downtown Louisville.

It was pretty damn sad when a woman got more depressed over a friend sleeping with some bimbo actress than an attempted rape.

She knew of at least seven in the past six months, one or two lasting a few weeks before another lovely thing took her place.

Hell, maybe she didn’t even like men. He hadn’t thought of that, but he obviously didn’t know her as well as he’d thought.

“And she’s pregnant.” “Nikki.” Lauren said. “Yeah. Nikki.” he replied, his voice gone flat.

“You don’t have a love life, Dale. You have a sex life, in which you pretend every woman you sleep with is Nicole Kline. And you have a dream life, where you imagine yourself in his place, the father of her children, the love of her life.”

Lauren told herself that she didn’t care that he was turning to her for comfort, not for love. That he was drunk out of his mind. She ignored the little voice that signaled that her common sense was not quite dead—almost, but not quite. She ignored it,

His heavy lidded eyes took the sight in, even as dim recognition started to flutter in his mind. No. Damn it, he didn’t want to think, didn’t want to do anything other than taste this woman, to bury himself inside her.

Her eyes flew open, desperately wanting to see his face, see those glorious, sexy eyes, the eyes of the man she loved, but they were closed. Closed, and she knew, seeing another woman’s face.

In his mind, Dale had pictured a face, one he saw with every woman. Her image wasn’t quite as clear, but he hardly noticed as the silky flesh around him sent him into an explosive climax, the likes of which he’d never before experienced. Without even realizing he had spoken, he roared out her name while he shot his semen into Lauren Spencer’s tight little sheath, her climax milking and squeezing around his cock like a greedy fist.

Dimly, he tried to remember who she was, but couldn’t. And he didn’t have the energy needed to open his eyes and look. She’d be there when he woke up, and then he’d find out. After he buried himself in that body again.

Dale cry another woman’s name while he was coming inside her.

Baby. Sweetheart. Never once had he said her name. Not once had his eyes looked into hers. And in the end, he had cried out, “Nikki,” as he emptied his body into hers. Another substitute, that’s what she had become.

Any woman would have done. Humiliation stained her cheeks red and she couldn’t even begin...

What had happened? Hell, he hated getting drunk, hated the loss of control that inevitably happened, even if it was just the inability to remember what he had done, where he had been. Who he had been with.

While she was sitting in the doctor’s office in Jeffersonville, Indiana, Dale was slow dancing a delicate little red haired woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to Nicole Kline Lightfoot around a New York penthouse.

As she was being weighed, he was dancing Beth Greer into her bedroom, his hands busily unzipping her snazzy little two-piece green business suit.

The moment the doctor confirmed her pregnancy, he was climaxing, his face buried in Beth’s hair.

Both mind and body relaxed, Dale smiled at the pretty dark haired flight attendant. She was a Louisville native and had offered him a ride home early in the flight.

And instead, he fucks me up against a wall and calls me somebody else.”

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