Is Best Friend'S Son A Popular Trope In Books?

What happens when you have a steamy one night stand with your best friend's brother —yeah, the one you hate— and he returns for more? ********************************** Joan Madison has always despised Aaron Thompson, her best friend's arrogant, insufferable brother. The feeling was mutual—until it wasn't. A vacation meant for relaxation with her friend Rhoda takes a different turn when Joan finds herself tangled in a steamy, reckless encounter with the one man she swore she’d never want. What should’ve been a fleeting mistake becomes something far more dangerous as Aaron refuses to let her go—and his hunger for her only deepens. Jo’s trapped between desire and defiance, but one thing is clear: this game they’ve started could burn them both.

I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to graduate top of my class, get into the best law firm, and make my brother proud. What I’m not here for? Sharing an apartment with Cade freaking West. My brother’s best friend. Tattooed, cocky, insufferable. A walking red flag on skates with a motorcycle named Roxie and a different girl in his bed every night. We don’t get along. We never have—especially not after what happened. He hates me for it. I don’t regret it. I was right. But the longer we’re forced to live under the same roof, the harder it gets to ignore the heat. The tension. The way he looks at me like he’s two seconds from ruining my entire life.

“Oh come on, I know you're jealous that I kissed her.” “Respect your mom.” My breathing doubled. I should've resisted and ran away, but I did no such thing, I stayed. His hands began to explore my back as I tried to fight. “But do you respect her? Because if you did, you wouldn't have such naughty thoughts about your best friend's son, not like he minds it though.” He could see right through me, and it made me panic. “Shut your mouth! Like you said, you're a little twenty two years old, so why should I be attracted to you?” “But you are.” “I'm not, let go of me!” I flung his hands off my body, but I still couldn't move, much to my dismay. “I thought so. Let's just stop this.” His smirk was unmistakable. “Stop what?” I was so hot, I wanted him to touch me. “Let's give each other what we want, how about that, Aunt Candice?” …… Barely days after my best friend's famous hockey player son started living with me, he successfully dragged me to his bed. I should be ashamed, but he's too hot to resist. Will my best friend find out?

My best friend had one rule: stay away from my brother. But what he didn't know was that his brother kept me up all night. Wren Mercer had spent years being just Ross's best friend. Fine with holidays at the Calloway house, years of watching Dani, Ross's older brother, move through life like nothing could touch him, fine with the fact that he never once looked at her like she was worth the trouble. So she did what any sensible girl would do, she found someone else. Blake Hendrix was everything that made sense on paper. Charming, attentive, and most importantly, not Dani Calloway. She told herself it was moving on. She told herself it was working. What she didn't know was that Blake had his own reasons for getting close to her, ones that had everything to do with the brother she was trying so hard to forget. When Ross invites her to move into their off-campus apartment, she tells herself it's still fine. She has Blake. She has a plan. Dani barely registers her existence anyway. She can handle proximity. She's wrong. Because Dani does notice her. He always has. What starts as tension becomes stolen moments, a secret neither of them planned, and the slow terrifying realization that this is the most real thing either of them has felt in years. But Ross is right there. Blake is closer than she thinks. And secrets don't stay hidden forever. She fell first. He fell harder. And what breaks between them might not be fixable.

His face was inches from mine. His breath ghosted over my lips—warm, whiskey-scented from dinner and my body remembered him instantly: the way he’d pinned my wrists, the slow grind of his hips, the filthy things he’d growled in my ear while I came apart beneath him. He leaned in. I felt the pull—like gravity, like hunger. My lips parted on instinct. Just one more inch and we’d be kissing again, messy and desperate, right here in his car like teenagers who couldn’t wait. But reality crashed in. I jerked back, pressing myself against the door. “We can’t.” His jaw ticked. “Why not?” "Because I practically raised you.” My voice shook. “Because your mom is my best friend and I'm way older than you..." "I don't care" he bit out, shocking me even further. "I’ve wanted you since I was old enough to know what wanting meant. And don’t pretend like you don't feel something too." Sophie helped raise him. She was there for homework, school runs, and the lonely years when his parents were too busy. To her, he was just her best friend’s son. Years later, she catches her husband cheating on their anniversary and loses her unborn child due to the shock, Sophie spends the night with a stranger that she never expects to see again. But the stranger is Antonio — the boy she once helped raise. Now he’s all grown up. Powerful. Successful. And off limits. She manages to escape from him — so she thinks — until days later, she gets hired in a fashion company where Antonio is the CEO.

After my son was abducted, my husband took me to an adoption center to bring home a baby boy born the same year as the child we'd lost. I poured every ounce of love I had into raising him. He had a sensitive stomach, so I pushed through my chronic back pain to cook him special meals every single day. When he spiked a fever in the middle of the night, I carried him twenty miles through the rain to the nearest hospital. When he couldn't focus in school, I was constantly at his classroom door, flattering his teachers and bringing them gifts, just to get them to pay a little extra attention to him. Fifteen years of grinding sacrifice, and it all came down to one moment at his college acceptance party. "I couldn't have gotten into Harvard without my mother's love and hard work," he said into the microphone. He raised his glass, eyes drifting toward where I was sitting. The cameras flashed as I started to rise from my seat, matching his silent lip movements. And then I heard a name I didn't expect. "She is Rachel Lynch." I froze. That was my best friend's name.