Warning: This book contains a geeky, secretly insecure but
overly cocky handy-man with a penchant for pleasing, a dominatrix in training
who’s on the rebound, and enough smut to strip a couple layers off your soul.
Plus there’s mac n’ cheese with a smattering of self-actualization for good
measure.
After Chloe Barrons’ fiancé cheats on her via webcam, she
begrudgingly accepts her Type-A mother’s offer of a spur of the moment luxury
spa weekend. But things don’t play out quite from point A to point B when she
arrives drunk and disoriented on the front porch of a deserted North Carolina
beach house. From the very start she’s caught off guard by Noah Knightly, a
sinfully sexy, self-proclaimed commitment-phobe who’s a handyman for his
sister’s relationship rehabilitation center—a rehab where Chloe is the sole
guest during off-season.
But faced with temptation, to stay guarded she’ll have to
call the shots.
Noah shouldn’t have taken Chloe’s reservation. But in need
of a second pair of hands to fix up the beach house, he throws all his sister’s
rules out the window. Soon he worries that maybe he’s bitten off more than he
can chew: each day Chloe cracks more of his cocky façade bringing down his
guards to reveal a stuttering geek who has a hidden will to please her in any
way possible.
With no way to ignore her pain, Noah sets himself up as a guinea
pig to prove to Chloe that not all men are created equal—in or out of the
bedroom. As Chloe comes into her own through every sexual session, Noah needs
to decide if he’s man enough to accept the one thing he never thought he
wanted—love.
EXCERPT:
With a reserve of energy she didn’t feel, Chloe
bounded up from the bed. Not the best idea, considering her brain’s penchant for
rattling around in her skull the minute she moved because of her hangover.
Maybe she could get Noah to make a Bloody Mary to take the edge off before she
left? Chloe climbed the plush carpeted stairs back up into the living room.
“Since it looks like we’ll be spending a
bit of time together, care to enlighten me on why you took a reservation when
it’s off season and
your sister wasn’t even here to run
it?”
Chloe sat back across from him and
took a slow drink of her juice, using the added time to get a closer look at
his slightly freckled face. Cute. Whatever attraction rose up tightening her
throat she quickly squashed it down. A man had gotten her here in the first
place. If it wasn’t for her mother’s penchant for
psychological healing, without the aid of television and a quart of ice cream—she would be
surrounded by piles of good books, take-out, and new workout DVD’s she wouldn’t attempt to use
for a solid month.
When Noah caught her watching him, she
deflected her stare to the bookcase behind his head, cringing at the A to Z
self-help tomes. When she came out of rehab she might have more of a complex
than when she went in last night.
“Didn’t feel like turning down company. Plus
I could use the extra hands around the house getting the place weatherproofed
for hurricane season.”
Chloe had to cover her mouth to keep
from shooting citrus out of her nose.
“Nice plan, right?” He waggled his dark
brows and took another bite of bacon.
“You purposely let me come here because
you were looking for a playmate while you babysat the house?”
“You’re much more fun than building model
cars and searching for the meaning of life.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Plus, I won the genetic jackpot. You’re quite the
looker,” he said it offhand,
meeting her eyes, and winking with darkness in his gaze that left nothing to
imagination.
“What are you, sixty years old?”
“That was a compliment, in case you’ve never heard one.”
“Yeah, great going, complimenting a
woman who probably just got out of a debilitating relationship, is emotionally
vulnerable, and ready to kick some ass. What a charmer you are, Noah.”
He cleared his throat, picked up his
plate, and headed toward the kitchen. Despite her resolve to let his comment
slide off her back, she’d opened her big
mouth. But more than anything she wished she could close her eyes to get the
image of his fine ass out of her mind as the swinging door closed behind him.
Pathetic didn’t cover it. She
needed another dictionary definition. What were the odds of finding a
dictionary in this house?
Was she even thinking about staying?
The idea was idiotic at best. In a house with a total stranger in the middle of
nowhere for any span of time—when
did that choice go from you’re crazy, to eh, it’s workable? The fact that she
managed to miss kind of a big decision when she was the one making the choice
in the first place made her feel like she’d come to the right place for her
discombobulated mental state. Yet…she trusted her gut. There was
something to women’s intuition and
Noah didn’t scream psycho
killer. Of course, she didn’t
think they made a t-shirt for that type of thing. But either way her first
layer of apprehension peeled back with the knowledge that she had basic
knowledge of self-defense and there were plenty of knick-knacks around the
house to double as weapons should the need crop up.
It would be an adventure, right? He
wasn’t keeping her here.
She could leave and walk away—literally—at any time.
“Oh, by the way—”
Noah stuck half his body through the
swinging door, large fingers splayed across the pastel green paint. He licked
his lips, mouth shaping into a wolfish grin that left her fingers twisting
together in her lap. Noah raised one of his hands in the air.
“One, I’ve been told I’m not relationship
material. Two, I’m great rebound sex
in case there isn’t anything else in
this boarded up hole to occupy your mind. And last, but not least, if you want
to kick my ass on behalf of my species that’s all well and good—I’m a gentleman, I’ll let you—but you bet your
sweet ass you’ll be playing
nursemaid afterward. And that’s
with the kinky outfit, or no deal.”
There were no words. Chloe sat there
without a single retort even close to her mouth. Was he kidding? Before she
could regain her senses he’d
popped his head back into the kitchen, and water ran in a loud rush. Almost,
but not quite, blocking out the joy in his gruff laughter as it echoed through
the door. Gentleman, yeah that was a joke. He was a gentleman like Rhett Butler
wasn’t a cad—and Rhett was the
best bad boy of ‘em all.
She should know, she’d only watched that
movie over a hundred times growing up because it had the prettiest cover in her
mother’s old movie
collection. No matter what, Rhett was a cad. And, though she tried not to be
flustered, Noah gave off the same swarthy I-know-what-you-look-like-without-your-clothes-on
vibe.
So what if she’d tried a
relationship with the solid, wet-blanket, Ashley type and that hadn’t exactly worked
out? That didn’t mean a damn
thing.
“Plan on throwing me any other
fastballs? Or are we not speaking because I dared to mention how beautiful your
smile is and hurt your girl power pride?”
His voice shook her out of her
reverie.
“You haven’t even seen me
fully smile.”
“I’ve seen the ghost of one. Maybe if we
keep playing this “getting to know
each other” game I’ll get to see more.
What do you think?”
He wiped his damp hands on his jeans
leaving dark smudges that led Chloe’s eye elsewhere. She crossed her arms,
determined to pay attention to the hideous, metal deep sea fish sculpture on
the wall.
“I think that you haven’t given me jack
squat to go off of in terms of getting to know you. I also think, Noah, that it’s probably in your
best interest to start chatting, otherwise these hands might not feel like
working.”
“Please tell me those hands will be
doing other, more delightful things,” he practically purred, clutching his
heart. “Oh, also, unless
you’re a shrink, there
isn’t much else to do
around here. No radios or TV. Consider yourself promoted to first foreman.
Better than reading the self-help crap, right?”
“Oh will you can it? Jesus, I’m not sleeping with
you!”
He shrugged, making the move mean far
more than it should have, while also showing off the hard muscles in his chest.
“I never really asked, did I?”
She couldn’t help it—she made a pure
noise of frustration and glared sharp, lethal icepicks his way. What did he do?
Only the second most infuriating thing ever after all his cheesy come-on’s. Noah threw up
his hands in front of his body making a mocking face filled with fake terror.
Eyes wide, mouth an “o,” he sprinted to the
corner folding his large frame until he cowered hiding his face in between his
knees. Heaven help her, a bubble of laughter floated out through her mouth and
broke into pieces.
You’re hopeless.
Noah peeked his head out from his lap
with a goofy grin.
“That impressed you, huh? Didn’t know your host
took several unwanted years of drama in high school in order to make up for
failing math grades. Pretty genius performance, wasn’t it? Might have
won me an Oscar.”
Well, there was her first tidbit into
the brain of her new hot—er, host. When Noah
stood up from his crouch he quickly stretched his arms up above his head,
leaving a delectable piece of pale flesh with a smattering of dark, treasure
trail hair leading beneath his jeans. Chloe snapped her eyes away and thinned
her lips pretending to adjust on the coach and folding her legs up under her.
“You’re getting better.”
“At what?”
“Nothing. You ready for your lesson on
how we’re going to work
together to keep this place in tip-top shape?”
“Do I get to say no?”
He made an obnoxious beeping noise in
the back of his throat that sounded like a game show buzzer.
“Wrong answer. But you do get handy
demonstrations, your own tool belt, and dinner tonight if you do a good job.”
“Do I get a gold star, too?”
“I can probably figure something out
for you.”
Noah snatched her hand, a shock to her
system tightening all the muscles in her upper arm. His warm palm engulfed her
whole hand. Was this what it had been like when he’d carried her
inside last night? Had she folded up in his arms like she fit? She swallowed
and met his serious look.
“Come on, I’ve got a whiteboard
downstairs.”
Chloe couldn’t deny his
excitement. When he pulled her up and raced them down the stairs she followed—telling herself it
was only because he would have dragged her anyway. But when he pulled her into
a spare bedroom, it had been converted into an office with a white board that
took up three of the four walls, her mind was boggled. Not one inch of board
was free.
“You’ve been busy.”
Chloe took in the myriad of
checklists, bullet points, and definitions scrawled in a neat sloping hand. One
of the notations caught her eye. The roof needed fixing? He wanted her up on a
slope a million feet in the air? Oh, that was priceless. With a careful eye she
tried to stuff the overload of information into her brain.
“You need to be trained.”
Noah took a seat in the office chair,
swiveling his body around a few times before he came to a full stop with his
long legs stretched out. His hands were laced together in the middle of his
chest, while he regarded her with an expression she couldn’t quite place—and probably didn’t want to think too
hard. She went back to studying the notations.
“This is almost everything you need to
know about construction and what we’ll be doing as early as tonight. Think
you can handle it all?”
At least he’d given her a head
start—with his help a day
of intense study might be enough to keep her safe. Besides, the busywork could
keep her mind in the right place and off of any thoughts of the ex. She could
admit—begrudgingly—that she kind of
couldn’t wait to see Noah
in a tool belt, shirtless, and a little dewy with sweat. His verbal banter
wouldn’t hurt as a
distraction either. With a long exhale, she shoved the thought into a little
box, readying herself for the oncoming storm.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elise Hepner lives with two spasic cats and a very supportive, slightly crazy husband. There is never a dull moment in the house, unless the caffeine runs out, which it never does.She's a multi-published erotica author with Cleis Press, Ellora's Cave, Xcite, and Secret Cravings Publishing.
She's driven by her tea addiction and a tiny stuffed turtle her husband picked up from Disney World that sits on her desk and "supervises" her work.
When not writing (which is rare), she's watching countless hours of reality television, playing the Sims or shopping online. Plus there's that odd obsession with the color purple. Everything is purple. Visit Elise at her website www. elisehepner.com to keep up with her naughty ramblings, random tidbits and future work.
She has a newsletter where you can sign up for sneak peeks, contests, giveaways, new release news and other fun things:
Twitter: @EHepner
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