PR specialist
Miriam Ashley makes her living cleaning up bad boys. Mountain
climber-turned-CEO Jason Sanders should be an easy fix. And with a nephew to
care for, he’s motivated. The problem? Every time she tries to help Jason get
his head in the boardroom, they end up in the bedroom.
What the hell is she thinking? He’s the
definition of off-limits. Not just because he’s a client—he spends his free time
risking his life mountain climbing. The same thing that got her father killed.
She’s not going to open her heart to a guy who could disappear at the drop of
a…well, she’d rather not finish that thought.
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“Homeless?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, which made more
cracks in the mud on his face. “I’m not homeless. I just bought a place down
the street. Two blocks away—it’s the blue duplex with the white shutters.”
He pointed toward a shady, tree-lined section of the
neighborhood, and she recalled seeing the glossy “sold” sticker tacked up on
the real estate sign a few weeks ago.
She looked back at the man. Okay, upon closer inspection,
she could see he wore expensive running shoes and trendy, designer athletic
apparel, even if it was covered in mud. What the hell?
“I just did the Tough Mudder,” he said, answering her
unasked question. “You know, the big race with all the mud pits and obstacles?”
“Right,” Miriam said, and recognition dawned as the guy
turned around to show her the dirt-covered number pinned to his back. At least,
that’s what she assumed he was showing her, though her eyes strayed down to one
of the most impressive asses she’d ever seen.
Even if it was covered in mud.
The guy turned back around before she thought to avert her
gaze. The result was an awkward five-second pause where she found herself
staring at his crotch.
Also very impressive.
She gave herself a mental slap and met his eyes again. “So
what are you doing walking around looking like a giant malt ball? Don’t they
have showers or something at the finish line?”
He grinned, flashing a set of perfectly white teeth that
contrasted with the mud. “Just hoses. Hoses with really cold water. I figured
since I only lived a couple miles from the race course, I could just run there
as my warm-up and run home as my cooldown, and then I could grab a warm shower
at home.”
“Right,” Miriam said, trying to wrap her brain around the
idea of willingly running four miles on top of whatever the hell they ran in
the actual race. People really did this on purpose?
“The thing is,” the guy continued, “I lost my key
somewhere in the racecourse, and now I can’t get back in my house to shower off
in time to make it to a doctor’s appointment.”
Sympathy fluttered through her belly, or maybe that was
anxiety. Probably anxiety. The mention of doctors
and hospitals and anything medically related tended to send her spiraling down
a path of panicked memories and despondent terror, and she found herself
gripping her keys a little tighter. “You have to get to the doctor?” she asked.
“The appointment’s at two. Please, I just need to borrow
your phone to call a locksmith. Then I’ll be out of your hair, I swear.”
She glanced at him, then back at her house. Her phone was
back on the entry table, but right beside that was her guest bathroom with a
shower the guy could use without stepping more than five feet inside her place.
Ordinarily she’d think twice about inviting a strange man into her home, but there
was something about this man
that made her consider it. She could always stand there with a butcher
knife, ready to stick it in him if he tried anything
funny. She hesitated, then looked back at the guy.
“I’m Jason, by the way,” he said, smiling wider. “Jason
Sanders. I’d shake your hand, but I don’t want to get mud on you.”
“Miriam.” She added polite and
considerate
to
his list of attributes. His eyes were kind, and he seemed sweet and
well-spoken.
That’s probably what every serial
killer’s victim thinks just before he strangles her with her own panty hose.
But she wasn’t wearing panty hose, and she did have a soft
spot for friendly, burly, blue-eyed, stubble-jawed guys in need.
“Come on,” she said and turned toward her walkway.
“Follow me.”
“Follow you where?”
“My house. You can’t stand out here being dirty.”
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I loved book 1 in the series, so when I found out Miriam was getting her own book I just had to read it, and let me tell you this book did not disappoint.
Miriam and Jason where amazing. The way the characters played off each other was just awesome. Miriam is so girly-girl and Jason is so Mr. Outdoors, throw in a work relationship and you're in for such a love-coaster.
Ms. Fenske really knows how to give us some sweet couples and some very hunky men.
Rating 4 out of 5
Read@Book
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Tawna Fenske is a USA Today bestselling author who writes
humorous fiction, risqué romance, and heartwarming love stories with a quirky
twist. Her offbeat brand of romance has received multiple starred reviews from Publishers Weekly, one of which noted, “There’s
something wonderfully relaxing about being immersed in a story filled with
over-the-top characters in undeniably relatable situations. Heartache and humor
go hand in hand.”
Tawna lives in Bend, Oregon
with her husband, step-kids, and a menagerie of ill-behaved pets. She loves
hiking, snowshoeing, standup paddleboarding, and inventing excuses to sip wine
on her back porch. She can peel a banana with her toes and loses an average of
twenty pairs of eyeglasses per year.
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