COMING
FRIDAY
7 PM PST.
HAYSON MANNING
OF:
Mason Christian has twelve weeks to flip something old into
something new, and then he's getting the hell out of Footsteps Bay - a tiny New
Zealand coastal town. Not even his temporary secretary and personal
assistant--the feisty, luscious Billie McLeod--will deter him, but there's no
denying she makes him feel alive. More alive than he's felt in three years...
Billie has one dream: save enough
money to finish her degree. That's why she's agreed to work for hard ass,
all-business-no-pleasure Mason Christian--a man who has every intention of
destroying through modernization the town's most cherished historical home.
Before she can say 'see ya' she's signed on the dotted line and is
contractually bound to be Mason's forty-second assistant. But working with male
perfection every day is awesome with a capital A--as long as they can stick to
a hands-off policy that gets harder every day...
Immediately her eyes watered, she
grabbed a can of diet soda, popped it, and took a slug.
“Too much ginger,” she said between
gasps. “Failure number seven hundred and I don’t know what. Well, at least I
won’t have to get out the Crunchmaster Sit-Up Demon Mean Machine and reclaim
the rock-solid ab I would have lost eating half a cake.”
He had no clue what the hell she was
talking about, but he was losing his patience.
“What?” She looked up at him. “You
didn’t purchase the pill that promised to make dieting a thing of the past? No
split-ends gone forever? No, bum bra for you?” Her eyes strayed to his butt and
color touched her cheeks. “I think you’re okay in that particular area, just
quietly.”
His eyebrows rose, and his simmering
panic faded for a second. “Checking out the boss there, Forty-Two? Not really
the done thing.” A surge of blood hit one area of his anatomy at the way her
pupils dilated.
“Well, Jiminy. If the boss is caught being checked
out, he really shouldn’t say anything, don’t you think?” She snagged her bottom
lip. “But for the record, you don’t need a bum bra.”
“Neither do you.” He hadn’t meant to say that out
loud.
“Are you serious?” She looked at him as if he were a purple
people eater. “For the record, I’ve got the industrial-strength bum bra, the
miracle pill, the shampoo that promised I’d have radiant hair with no split ends
in three short weeks. I also bought a massager but it turns out it was a massager
with another purpose.” Her face flushed.
“What’s with all the quick fix
shit?” He wasn’t going near the massager thing, but an image of Forty-Two with
a vibrator came to mind. He pushed it away.
She looked thoughtful. “No, not
quick fixes, more trying to enhance what you’ve got.”
“You’re fine the way you are. The
only enhancement you need is to quit hiding in shades of brown.”
She blinked up at him, looking like
he was an Ikea shelf and the instructions were in Swedish. “Yeah, see there’s
the problem. I like clothes that are…comfortable. And that disguise my lack of
planes and angles.”
“For the record, men don’t like
planes. Men want curves. The curvier, the better.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, please. Pick
up any women’s magazine and tell me those women have curves.”
“Ah, but those magazines are for
women. In the magazine's men read, the women have curves.” “Guy magazines have
words?”
Her smile sneaked up on him and before he could help
it, he grinned down at her. He hadn’t enjoyed being in a woman’s company this
much since.
Go-getter
Georgia Paxton has ten days to acquire a quaint hotel in the Scottish Highlands
for her travel accommodation company before she’s off on her next grand
adventure. Too bad the sexy, broody Scot who owns the place is dead against the
idea…and that she’s in very real danger of losing their little bet to see who
can convince whom first.
There’s
no way Callum MacGregor is going to let the gorgeous American turn his tiny
hometown over to bored tourists looking to satisfy their Outlander fantasies.
He only has ten days to convince her to slow down and see the magic of the town
and its people. If he succeeds, he won’t have to run her out of the county. But
if he fails, Georgia might run off with his heart.
His
smile was infectious. “What?” She plopped onto a barstool, desperate to take
off her boots, but afraid her feet would explode
and she’d never get the boots on again. She groaned when she wiggled her
shoulders.
“Love
your descriptions.” He picked up her scribbled notes. “Two spotty chickens to
the dungaree dudes, three the Bruce guy to the traveling
suits, four Bruce’s too grumpy farmers. One book
frizz to the fruit woman.” He shook his
head. “Speckled Hen, Robert the Bruce, and Bucks Fizz.” He rubbed the back of
his neck.
“I
couldn’t work out the table numbering.” Georgia swallowed. “I hope I didn’t
offend…I didn’t mean to.”
“No
offense taken. I knew who you were talking
about.”
She
blew out a breath.
“Thanks
for this.” A warm smile was on his face.
Ah,
that buttery feeling washed through her. “You’re welcome.” She glanced around
the room. “What are you going to do for tonight?”
“We’ll
figure something out. Ellie, our backup waitress,
can’t come in. Her daughter’s sick.”
“Tell
you what. If you have a word with the hot water system, I’ll be making use of
that huge clawfoot bath tomorrow, but
before that, I can come back and help.”
A
smile that must be stolen from the gods lit his face. “Done. I’ll have a word
with Willy. He’s the ghost that hangs around the pipes.”
“Please
do…I want to have words with your Willy.”
She
stilled.
Every
time I’m around this man, I swear he must think I’m punch drunk or horny.
Well,
there was that.
Callum’s
eyes widened.
Heat
flushed throughout her body.
She
closed her eyes.
Please
let the ground open up and swallow me whole.
I love Princess Bride, Game of Thrones and Naked
and Afraid. Star Trek, not Star Wars. Undercover Boss, Secret
Millionaire--any story that shows the little guy making it. I follow the
Buffalo Bills like a religion. I am spellbound by showjumping and equestrian
eventing. I love curling up and reading all books--no genre is off-topic. I
like ironing, I hate peas, love donkeys, I play a killer game of Scrabble. I'm
a kiwi who has lived most of my life in Australia and now am in the US. I will
often be heading towards the fridge for another Diet Coke. I eat nothing with
legs and believe wine goes with everything, oh and I'm an expert at finding new
and inventive ways to avoid exercise.
I'd love to hear from you at
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