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Blurb
Lucas Thorn wasn’t born a cheater. All it
took was a single moment—say, a certain disastrous incident on the night before
his wedding—and boom. Reputation destroyed forever and always. So now he owns
it. He has a lady friend for every night of the week (except Sundays—God’s day
and all), and his rules are simple: No commitments. No exceptions.
But a certain smart-mouthed, strawberry
blonde vixen is about to blow that all to hell.
Avery Black has never forgiven Lucas for
cheating on her sister. And suddenly being forced to work with him is pretty
much a nightmare on steroids. Of course, it does afford her the opportunity to
make his life as difficult as possible. But no good revenge scheme comes
without payback. Because he didn’t become the Lucas Thorn without learning a
few things about women.
Now Avery’s lust for vengeance has turned
into, well, lust. And if Lucas stops cheating, it’s definitely not because he’s
falling in love…
Excerpt:
The office building loomed ahead of me. I
squinted up at it, covering my face with part of my hand as the sun cast its
glare against the glass.
“What are we looking at?” Lucas whispered
in my ear.
I let out a little yelp and jumped away
from him, and I would have run into a passing biker if Lucas hadn’t pulled me
out of the way with his coffee-free hand.
“Must you be such a pain in the ass?”
“Must you try to kill me?” I fired back.
He rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.” He
started walking, hauling me with him.
We weren’t walking in the direction of
the office.
“Um, Thorn—”
“I will seriously shove this Starbucks up
that skinny ass if you don’t stop talking and just listen for once in your
life.”
I shut up and followed, but only because
he’d said “Starbucks” and was very purposefully moving in the nearest outpost’s
general direction. If I looked pathetic enough, would he buy me coffee?
That was what my life was coming to.
Pity coffee.
My shoulders slumped at the thought when
we walked into the building. The smell of fresh baked goods hit me with full
force, and my stomach growled loudly, saying to everyone, I’m a hungry bear and
may eat my young. Out of the way, please!
I followed Lucas to the line, still
tempted to speak, but I figured if he wanted noise from me, he’d say something
like, “You may grace me with your voice now, Avery.”
Even though I wasn’t talking, every time
I heard someone order pumpkin bread I sighed, loudly, so loudly that the
barista eyed me cautiously. Chill, Starbucks, I’m not going to steal a piece of
pumpkin bread.
My mouth watered.
I mean, I wasn’t that desperate.
But if I took two, maybe three, steps
toward her, yelled “Fire!” and then screamed nonsense about a bee attacking me,
the pumpkin bread she had in hand would probably fall to the ground, and it
would be wasteful if I didn’t rescue it from the ants.
All creatures deserve food—but pumpkin
bread was too good for ants, too rich, and they’d explode all over the floor
from the richness and it would be my fault—for saving the barista’s life,
right? From the bee?
I think I just confused myself.
“Why are you breathing so heavy?” Lucas
asked from my right.
I snapped out of my pumpkin-bread
daydream and shrugged. “Sorry, low on sleep.”
He gave a noncommittal nod and then it
was his turn, greedy little bastard already had one coffee now he was getting
two! “A venti macchiato and a large coffee with room for cream, two slices—”
I elbowed him hard in the ribs.
“Sorry, um, three slices of pumpkin
bread, thanks.”
He handed the barista his card, while my
greedy eyes locked on the pumpkin bread as the barista placed it into a bag and
gave it to him.
With an exasperated sigh, he shoved the
bag into my hands. “Just leave me one bite.”
“No promises.” I was already digging into
the bag, my mouth watering as I followed him around the counter with a little
pep in my step.
Lucas grabbed our drinks and motioned
toward one of the tables. I sat, stuffed more pumpkin goodness into my mouth,
and managed to chug some coffee almost all at once.
Lucas shook his head. “I always forget
how seriously you take your pumpkin bread.”
I moaned and took another huge bite. “My
theory is this.”
He leaned forward, a smile curving around
his gorgeous mouth. “Alright, out with it.”
More pumpkin bread found its way into my
mouth as I talked—I didn’t even care if I looked like a starved animal.
“Pumpkin bread has the same addictive properties as cocaine.”
“That’s your theory? That it’s a drug?”
“Right.” I sighed and leaned back.
“Except it doesn’t make you skinny, unfortunately.”
His smile widened, and he grabbed a small
hunk of bread. “Want to know my theory?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I was
thinking—I hope Lucas tells me his theory so I can eat his portion of bread.”
Lucas scooted the bag toward me and
whispered, “Merry Christmas.”
“Oh, pumpkin gods.” I moaned again.
His eyes darted to my mouth.
“What?” I wiped my lips. “Is something on
my face?”
“No.” He looked away. “So my theory is
this . . . pumpkin flavoring is a conspiracy by the government to see how many
ways we can market a flavor and make money off it.”
“Boo.” I gave him a thumbs-down. “Thanks,
grinch. Oh, and stop ruining holidays.”
He smirked. “You’ve known forever that
Santa isn’t real. Still doesn’t stop you from leaving him cookies every
Christmas Eve, then sneaking downstairs and eating them all by yourself.”
“One”—I held up a finger—“it’s genius
because nobody will touch them for fear that I’ll get mad. Two”—I held up a
second finger—“when everyone else is sad about the Christmas cookies being
gone, I know I’ll have them all to myself. It’s like . . .” I sighed, “. . . a
Christmas present. To myself.”
“Except for that one time.” He smirked.
“Cruel man.” I glared at him. “How dare
you eat my cookies?”
He shrugged. “They were sweet.”
Was it hot? In this little Starbucks? By
the window where the sun was searing me alive like I was under a magnifying
glass?
I tugged at my sleeveless blouse.
“About Saturday . . .”
Uncomfortable conversation, here we come!
I strapped in and waited for the inevitable. And then realized, to my dismay,
that he’d just bought me coffee and food without letting me go to the office.
My eyes filling with tears, I shook my
head a few times. “Lucas, I may give you crap, but I really need this job.”
He frowned, like he was confused.
“Don’t say another word.” I held out my
hands. “I’ll do anything, Lucas—and I mean anything—to keep this job. I wasn’t
kidding when I said my parents were chomping at the bit to get me to move home,
and I don’t want to. It’s not just about me being defiant; they want me to take
over the family business.”
Lucas burst out laughing and then
sobered. “Oh, you’re serious.”
“I can’t sell chicken, Thorn.”
“I mean, to be fair, Avery, your parents
own a very lucrative organic meats company. I’m sure they could offer you at
least five figures.” His smile was way too smug, but I still had to be nice to
him rather than throw him off a cliff, because he could fire me.
ENTER TO WIN AN IPAD MINI
About the
Author:
Rachel Van
Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling
author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can
find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching
The Bachelor.
She keeps
her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She
loves to hear from readers!
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