When a not-quite-jilted bride turns her would-be honeymoon into a solo adventure, the last thing she expects is to fall for Paris or the broodingly handsome artist who shows her its secrets. As midnight kisses blur into something deeper, she must choose between the life she left behind and the future she never saw coming. One Night in Paris by N.D. Jackson is a heart-mending, spicy travel romance where art, passion, and second chances collide in the world’s most romantic city.
It started as one night in Paris.
It ended with forever on the line.
Not quite a jilted bride,
I still find myself on a first-class flight to Paris—solo.
What was supposed to be a honeymoon has become my Great Parisian Adventure: art, food, and falling in love with the city.
Then I met Lucien.
Tall. Dark. French. Irresistibly artsy.
He taught me how to see the city through his eyes.
Its sounds, its colors, its passion.
And somehow, somewhere between croissants, art galleries, and midnight kisses,
Paris stopped being just a place… and started to feel like him.
But he’s a world away from my real life.
And I came here to move on, not fall in love.
Still, you can’t have a Great Parisian Adventure without a touch of romance.
Even if it can't last.
One Night in Paris is a jilted bride, friends to lovers, travel romance with a happy ending, steamy open-door scenes and a whole lotta Paris. Features a scorching hot Parisian with sensitive eyes, a gentle soul and hot touch.
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Excerpt
Copyright 2025, N.D. Jackson
For the first time in my life, words failed me so I did the only thing that seemed appropriate in the moment, I pressed my lips to hers and let the moment carry me.
A soft whimper escaped Emerald’s lips when our mouths touched at the exact same time her hands landed on my chest, the warmth of her touch penetrated every layer of my skin.
It was an odd sensation, kissing a woman who wasn’t Eve. Who didn’t taste the way Eve did. Emerald’s curls were a stark contrast to her silky straight locks. Everything about the kiss was surreal because I never thought I would kiss another pair of lips but here I was, savoring a pair that were thicker and softer than I was accustomed to. She tasted of cherries instead of peach lip balm.
Emerald’s lips weren’t submissive, she dove right into the kiss as if she wanted it the way I wanted it. Her hands curled into the fabric of the thin t-shirt I slept in, fisting it as if she wanted to make sure I didn’t break the kiss.
As if I could.
Not even ten thousand hours could have dragged our lips apart. Her kiss was more intoxicating than the best French wine, her touch was hotter than the hottest Parisian sun. Every second that our lips were fused together was another second I grew addicted to her touch and her taste. Emerald kissed the way she seemed to do everything, with an immense passion that was impossible to ignore. Her lips moved against mine with a drugging intensity that made my head spin. Her tongue danced with mine so effortlessly as if we’d been kissing for years, diving deep as if she was hungry for every inch of me.
The soft moans she made were enough to unravel the steely resolve that had settled deep in my bones the moment the doctor’s told me my wife, my son, my entire world was gone. The hesitation was gone, vanishing on the breeze that tore through the apartment, replaced by pent up passion that shocked me with its ferocity.
The way I wanted her didn’t just shock me, it scared me. Who was this woman to make me want her this way? Why did she affect me this way when no other woman had? I had been the picture of the faithful, grieving husband since the day I lost her and now it was all gone. Obliterated in one, heartfelt act.
An eternity passed before one of us—Emerald—pulled back, gasping and wide-eyed. Her lips were pink and swollen as they curved up into a slow smile. “That was…wow. One hell of a kiss.”
Her words relaxed me and pulled me out of my head a way nothing else could have in that moment. “It was pretty wow wasn’t it?”
She nodded, a short shock of laughter exploded from her lips. “Yeah,” she sighed. “It was.” Her gaze went from my eyes back to my lips, and then her breath hitched as if she was fighting the urge to kiss me again.
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About N.D. Jackson
Wanderer. Lover of books. Romance author. Vegan. Those are just some of the things used to describe me! When I’m not spinning tales of small town and contemporary romance, I love to travel, cook, and watch/listen to true crime, history & strange documentaries and podcasts. I’m a native Chicagoan currently living in Europe who has been in love with books for as long as I can remember. My first book, Conflict of Interest, was published in 2014, and I’ve been writing books ever since! I’m a full-time writer and part-time author, traveler, vegan blogger, and obsessive fan of Dawson’s Creek.
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