Diane Alberts's Blog, page 31
May 20, 2013
Step into Romance with Diane Alberts and Heidi McLaughlin!
COMMENT BELOW FOR A CHANCE TO WIN!!
So, over the course of this week, I’m going to be spotlighting the fabulous USA Today bestselling author Heidi McLaughlin here on my blog this week. And she, in turn, will be spotlighting me. Each time we post about each other’s books, you have to comment on the post to win! I’ll be posting teasers, reviews, and all sorts of goodies. And so will Heidi!
Okay, now, pay attention! Today, I am giving away one eBook copy of Lost in You.
First, check out this gorgeous cover of Lost in You, Heidi’s new release. This book is seriously amazing. I’m not finished it yet, but needless to say?
My review will be stellar.
And now…for the first teaser of the week. This is in Hadley’s POV, the heroine in the book.
Teaser:
“You’re very pretty.” He says this so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. His cheek turns a pleasing shade of pink. It’s a good thing I’m this far away from him because I want to run my fingers along his cheekbone. I want to feel the heat from his blush.
There is something seriously wrong with me. I tell myself to snap the hell out of it and come back down to reality. Friends, Hadley… that is all you can be. There will be no touching of any kind.
“Thank you.” I say this in hopes to open some conversation, anything to hear his voice.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he mumbles his reply. Ryan mirrors my position on his chaise, turning his body to look at me. I’m lost in his beauty. I hope he doesn’t mind me staring because I don’t think I can stop.
“I think you’re handsome.” He looks away. He starts picking at the hem of his shorts and I fear I’ve said the wrong thing. Everything has come so natural to me until now. “Is that the wrong thing to say?”
Ryan shrugs. “No one has ever said that.” “Girls don’t tell you that you’re hot?” “No, definitely not.”
“That’s such a shame.”
Ryan looks away from me and I don’t like it. I get up and move to his chaise. I sit toward the middle, where his knees are bent. With my legs under me, I lean toward him so that we’re touching. He doesn’t pull away or shift so we aren’t touching. But he’s still not looking at me.
“I’m sorry for embarrassing you. I just call things like I see it.”
Ryan shakes his head and stalls briefly before turning back to me. His eyes are focused and in control of my beating heart. How can one person make me feel this way after only knowing him for such a short time?
“You have a very nice voice. I like listening to you.”
“I’ll take that compliment any day, especially if it’s coming from you.” I expect Ryan to look away, but he doesn’t. He holds my gaze, driving home the fact that I’m already in too deep. There is no backing away from this.
For a moment I can see myself leaning in, him meeting me half way. Just a small touch of the lips, enough to quench my desire, is all I need. I imagine him pushing his hands into my hair, capturing me with soft lips.
I can hear muffled sounds, his lips are moving, but I can’t make out the words. I clear my head of the lust-filled images. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, do you like what you do?”
“Oh yeah, I do actually. Performing has always been a passion for me. I started in county fairs when I was about twelve and got noticed when I was fifteen. What about you, what’s your passion?”
“To leave Brookfield,” he says with such sadness it makes me wonder why he’d want to leave.
“How long have you lived there?”
“All my life,” he says. His fingers go back to pulling on his shorts. For the first time I get a good look at him. His shorts aren’t new and the edges are frayed. He wears generic sneakers that look old. His black dress shirt is the only thing that looks new.
“Why don’t you like it?”
Ryan adjusts so he’s sitting up a bit more, but doesn’t move his leg from touching my arm. I like that he made sure we were still touching. “What’s to like? The town is divided. Half is these upper- class mansions and the other half is industrial with a working mill and small clapboard homes that were built to house the millworkers.”
Without even asking I know that is where Ryan lives and, while that would matter in my group of friends (Alex not included), it doesn’t matter to me. If he lived under a bridge I’d still want to know him.
To buy:
On Amazon
On Barnes and Noble
On Kobo
Don’t forget to go to Heidi’s site for all week long for fun teasers, reviews, and giveaways from my Take a Chance series!
April 30, 2013
LOVE ME–Top 100 Contest! Win a Kindle and customized cover!
CONTEST RUNS THROUGH JULY 4th!
If Love Me gets to the Top 100, I’m giving away a Kindle (wi-fi) with a customized cover with Tommy’s abs on it! That’s right, not only do you get a Kindle, but you get an AUTOGRAPHED Love Me cover for your Kindle, too! But remember, I only get to give one away if enough people hear about Love Me and buy it so it hits the Top 100!
Enter as much as you want, but unless Love Me hits the Top 100, no one wins the grand prize! Buy, share, and tweet this contest! Let’s reach our goal!
I’m planning a celebration already! I’m going to be giving away a Kindle with Wi-fi (Est. Value $69) AND an autographed, custom Love Me cover (Est. Value approximately $30) if Love Me hits the Top 100 on either site!
Already have an e-Reader? I’ll give you a giftcard for the value of the e-Reader if you prefer, to Barnes and Noble OR Amazon! I know a lot of people don’t have one yet, and I’d love for more people to get to read eBooks.
To help make that happen, all you have to do is spread the word in any way you can–blog about it, post on twitter, Facebook, etc! The sky is the limit! While a purchase is not required to win, those fans that have already purchased Love Me, can get an extra ten entries! Simply submit your order confirmation number.
Can it get any easier than that?! Help make Love Me hit the Top 100 today, and spread word about the contest. The more people involved, the higher the chances of hitting the Top 100! You can gain extra entries by tweeting about the contest EVERY SINGLE DAY! Winners will be picked after the contest closes, on July 4th, 2013. Contest opens today, April 30th, and the deadline to enter is midnight on July 4th, 2013.
If Love Me doesn’t hit the Top 100, I’m still giving away a consolation prize–two signed Kindle cases with Love Me’s book cover–aka Tommy’s abs!!
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-me-diane-alberts/1115213932?ean=9781622661404
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Love-Me-Take-Chance-ebook/dp/B00CK52XJY/ref=sr_1_10?s
Suggested tweet(in Rafflecopter below):
If #LoveMe hits the Top 100, @DianeAlberts is giving away a Kindle! Check out #LoveMe & RT! http://www.amazon.com/Love-Me-Take-Chance-ebook/dp/B00CK52XJY/ref=sr_1_10?s http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-me-diane-alberts/1115213932?ean=9781622661404
April 23, 2013
If you’re going to the Romantic Times Convention, READ THIS! #EntangledHunt
Hello!
I wanted to take a second out of my crazy busy editing life right now (Seriously. CRAZY!) to let you fine readers in on a secret! Come closer. A little bit closer. Okay. Good.
At the Romantic Times Convention in Kansas City, MO, Entangled Publishing authors are having a SCAVENGER HUNT! We’re giving away huge prizes, and all you have to do is FIND us. In addition to the big prizes listed below, we’re also giving spot prizes, where we tell you where to find us to get another prize! Sounds easy, right? Just follow along with the #EntangledHunt hashtag on Twitter, and make sure to follow us on there, too, so you can stalk us like mad! Trust, me, you’ll want to. 
Want easy times to track me down? I’ll tell you the panels I’m on and when I’ll be there!
Wednesday Night:
–Club RT 5:15-6:15
Friday Morning:
–Hero Speed Dating Panel 11:15-12:15
Friday afternoon:
–Category Cover Bingo 3:45-4:45
Friday evening:
–Club RT 5:00-5:30
–Candy and Spoons! 7:30-8:30
And much, much more I’m not scheduled for!
You’ll know who’s participating because our book covers are on the form – and we’ll all be wearing one of our stickers on our nametags to help you pick us out.
You’ll want to find author Christine Bell last, because she’s the keeper of the grand prizes – and the first 3 people to show her they’ve gotten all 23 authors’ stickers will win BIG! (Keep an eye on the #EntangledHunt hashtag during the convention for more details!)
And next…THE PRIZES!
PRIZES!
1st Prize: $300 Amazon/BN/Kobo/any e-book retailer gift card. Can be used for anything the winner would like, including an e-reader, tablet, books and more.
2nd Prize: A Kindle Fire & e-books from all the participating authors. Kindle will be given to the winner at RT. Winner will provide an email address so that each author can gift a copy of their e-book via Amazon to them (See all the books included on the back of this flyer).
3rd Prize: $50 Gift Card from e-book seller of winner’s choice.
Spot Giveaways: In addition to the above prizes, each of the 23 participating authors will be doing two spot giveaways during RT. Follow our hashtag on Twitter (#EntangledHunt) as each day, more than a dozen authors will tweet their location at the conference and a directive. Find the author first and follow their directive and YOU WIN! Prizes range from signed book copies, to handmade personalized gifts, from gift cards to fun-filled baskets and more.
Start getting ready to get your hunt on!
See you there! #EntangledHunt
March 11, 2013
A new release called FAKING IT, a chance to win a diamond necklace, and the first chapter FREE!
My Indulgence is out TODAY, March 11th! It’s such a fun book featuring a fake engagement, a touch of opposites attract, and a dash of falling in love with your best friend’s little sister. Check it out! And don’t forget to enter the fun contest I’m throwing! The rafflecopter to enter to win is at the bottom of this post! You could win the same diamond necklace that Derek gives Stephanie in the book. 
Read the first chapter of Faking It for FREE below!
Approximately 165 pages.
Look below to see what the necklace looks like:
Blurb:
Derek Rory never meant to propose to his best friend’s little sister. But when her boss tells a family-oriented investor he’s Stephanie’s fiancé, Derek can either play along or let her get fired. He’s hardly one to turn away from a damsel in distress. If only that damsel wasn’t adorable and sexy with a laugh that could melt any cold business mogul’s heart.
When a business proposal becomes a marriage proposal, Stephanie Miller tries to keep it strictly boardroom. But when things get hot under the table, it’s all they can do to stay apart. As the tangle of lies drags them deeper into the underhanded world of business politics, Stephanie finds herself in over her head—not just with her job, but with her “fiancé.” His eyes are cold, but his kisses light her on fire. If she’s not careful, she’ll end up faking her way into a real romance.
Buy Links:
Excerpt:
Chapter One
This was it.
This was her moment. The moment when Stephanie Miller—occasional klutz at best, walking disaster at worst—would make or break her career. She stood before the projection screen, her neatly-arranged slides the only light in the darkened office. Her boss sat behind his huge oak desk, and underneath his perpetual calculating sneer, he actually looked interested. Maybe evenimpressed. He’d listened without a word for the past twenty minutes. If she’d held his interest this long, it was a good sign. Once she pulled this off, she’d be given the Weyland Project account and a chance to truly prove herself as the senior investment manager that Inner State Medical needed.
Or she would if she managed to get through the last few lines of her speech without tripping over her tongue, or sticking her foot in her mouth.
She clicked on the last PowerPoint slide and pasted on her most confident smile. She’d been practicing it in the mirror for days, and had finally managed to edge it somewhere away from “uncomfortable constipation” and a little closer to “coolly intelligent.” Or at least “somewhat less awkward and dorky than normal.”
Close enough for government work.
“As you can see,” she said, “I’ve researched potential investors and narrowed it down to the top three, with proposed targeting strategies for reaching C-level executives and key influencers in the top tiers of their organizations.” Key influencers. She liked that. It made her sound like she knew what she was doing, and she straightened her shoulders as she crossed the room to Mr. Rodgers’ desk. “You’ll find the full details in my proposal package. I think, if we follow this roadmap, we’ll secure the high-profile investor the Weyland Project needs to succeed.”
She thrust the file folder at him. Be assertive, her corporate etiquette books had said. Show them you’re not afraid to play with the big boys. So she assertively offered him the folder.
And assertively bonked him right in the nose.
He didn’t move. Didn’t so much as twitch one bushy brow. His hair, waxed into place in a dirt-colored pompadour the envy of Donald Trump, didn’t even move in the thin breeze from the air vents. His flat gray eyes watched her unblinkingly over his steepled fingers, and her smile suddenly felt more like a frozen grimace. She cleared her throat and gingerly set the folder down on the desk in front of him, then backed away. Out of reach, before she could cap this off by knocking over his pencil cup or spilling scalding hot coffee everywhere. It wouldn’t be the first time.
After a measured silence—no doubt deliberately calculated to keep her off guard—he tapped his fingers together and sat back in his chair. He didn’t so much as look at the proposal. “Why should I choose you? You’ve never taken lead on a project. You’re a temp, and your contract is almost over. Why should I trust you with an account this large? Or at all?”
“I might not be as experienced as others,” she took a steadying breath, “but you won’t find anyone in this office more committed to this project than I am. Helping others matters to me, and this is just the first step. If—no, when I get an investor to sign a contract with Inner State Medical, I’ll be able to—”
“Save the world?” Mr. Rodgers snorted. “We all set out to save the world at first. Then we realize the world revolves around money. Nothing happens without money. Lots of it.”
Like the money that goes to pay your overstuffed six-figure salary? How many of the underprivileged does your beach house in Boca Raton help? Stephanie swallowed back her retort. Not the best way to get the job. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re angling for a full-time position.”
“I won’t deny a little job security would be nice, sir. But it’s about more than that. This project is important to me.”
He watched her shrewdly. She could practically time his silences at this point. Fifteen seconds meant he was trying to keep the advantage over a subordinate. Twenty seconds meant he was angry and making a point. Anything longer than that and he wasn’t even listening. These games were exhausting, but she’d learned to wait him out.
Finally Rodgers said, “Do you know how I earned my position, Stephanie?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He usually didn’t. “By trusting my gut. It’s never steered me wrong. My gut is telling me you might be worth a chance. I’ll give you one shot at the Weyland Project.” He pinned her with a sharp look. “One.”
Stephanie suppressed a grin. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
He picked up the folder and leafed through it, then tossed it back onto the desk. “But your list of investors is useless. Mr. Wheeler from Wheeler Enterprises will be in to discuss investment opportunities this afternoon. Impress him, and you’ve got the job.”
Stephanie curled her hands into fists before she did something unprofessional. Like trying to raise the roof. Or high-five her boss. She settled for a smile. “Of course, sir. I’ll be at my best.”
“See that you are.” He handed the file back. “Or you’ll be finding a new job sooner than you think.”
“Y-Yes. Understood, sir.” She grabbed the folder and offered her hand. “Thank you.”
He shook her hand with a careful, almost dainty touch, then dug in his desk until he unearthed a bottle of hand sanitizer. She had to bite back a nervous laugh. Here she was in an impeccable Calvin Klein dress suit, and he was trying to scrub off her cooties after a simple handshake.
“You’re welcome. You may go now,” Mr. Rodgers said.
He picked up his phone and started dialing. She’d been dismissed.
She left the room with as much calm dignity as she could manage, made her way to her tiny cubicle, then sank into her seat. She wanted to do a happy dance, but not with so many prying eyes around. She couldn’t even call her brother to squeal in his ear—but that’s what texts were for.
Aaron guess what I landed the project!!!! I’m meeting with an investor today!!!!!
Her phone buzzed within less than a minute.
It should be criminal for a grown woman to use that many exclamation points. We’ll talk at lunch. The department head will skewer me for using FBI equipment for personal texts. Stop using this number.
She fought back a giggle. Giggling. God, she really was giddy.
If you’d answer your normal phone I wouldn’t have to, Mr. Super Spy.
He didn’t answer. She didn’t expect him to, but she couldn’t help grinning to herself as she stashed her phone in her purse and spun back to her laptop. Time to do a little digging. She only had a few hours to get as much intel on Mr. Wheeler as possible, and since she doubted Aaron would humor his little sister and fork over Wheeler’s FBI file, Google would have to do. She couldn’t afford to fail. Not for her own sake, or for the thousands of low-income Miami residents who couldn’t afford decent healthcare. They needed access to doctors, vaccines, antibiotics.
And she would get it for them.
Her parents had been poor. They had struggled for years to care for her and her three brothers. They’d missed doctor’s visits, sacrificed their personal lives, given up every minute of their lives and every single penny for their children—with not a cent to spare.
Yet they’d been happy. They’d always been happy, in their quiet little world that revolved around everything but Mr. Rodgers’ all-important money.
Stephanie’s brothers—with the exception of Ben, still in college—did everything they could to repay them. They sent back money. They bought their parents everything they might need. Easy enough for them, with steady jobs. Stephanie was the only one who hadn’t been able to give back a single cent. She barely made enough to pay for food, work-appropriate clothing, and a tiny one-bedroom apartment in an area of town where walking home alone after dark could mean never making it home at all. She needed this job. To give back to her parents—and to the whole community.
Her phone buzzed. She picked it up and turned off the alarm. Twelve o’clock. Lunch time. She locked her computer, snagged her purse, and hurried down the hallway, past the elevator crowd and to the stairs. She hit the sidewalk running, but paused for a cautious glance up to the sky. Crap. Cloudy with a chance of pouring buckets. One day she’d learn the local weatherman was a filthy liar. She’d left her umbrella at home.
Her phone trilled the first few bars of “All the Single Ladies,” and she pulled it out of her purse. “I’m on my way now. About three and a half blocks away.”
“I know. I’m tracking you on GPS.”
Stephanie chuckled. “You never get tired of that joke, do you?”
“What’s funny is you think I’m joking.”
“You’re a riot. Really. Not even going to congratulate me?”
“Don’t need to. I already knew you could do it.”
She could have burst with pride. This was the first time she was actually doing something on her own—without one of her overprotective, overbearing brothers helping her.
And she would succeed. She knew it.
A loud clap of thunder sounded, echoing in the phone. Stephanie practically jumped out of her skin and looked up at the sky again. “Either it’s about to rain, or someone just broke the sound barrier.”
“It’s been thundering since before dawn. Don’t tell me you didn’t bring an umbrella.”
“The weatherman said it wouldn’t rain!”
“And you believed him.” He laughed. “GPS says you’re only seven minutes away. Maybe you can run it.”
“You’re bluffing. Your GPS doesn’t say anything.” A fat drop of rain splatted on her nose, and she swiped it away. “Except that I’m about to get drenched.”
“Then you might want to get moving. And sis?”
“Hm?”
“Hang up. The last time you tried walking and talking, you walked right into a wall.”
The phone went dead before she could retort. She stared at it. He’d been away on one of his ever-so-classified assignments the week she’d been walking around with a swollen nose from slamming right into a revolving door.
Maybe he wasn’t joking about that GPS thing.
Before she could stow the phone in her purse, it buzzed with a new text message.
By the way, almost forgot—we’ve got company for lunch. Old college friend is in town. He’d love to meet you.
She started to tap something back when a second message came in.
You’re not running. Yes, I am watching.
She rolled her eyes and dropped her phone into her purse without answering. Sometimes, Aaron liked playing the creepy spy too much—right down to faking his little sister out.
He’d better be faking, at least, if he wanted to keep all his teeth.
And he’d better not be thinking about setting her up with this “old college friend.”
She stopped at a traffic light and waited for the little walking man to tell her she could do a little walking, too. At her side, a rather imposingly tall man withdrew an umbrella from his laptop bag. She glanced at him enviously. Of course he’d had the foresight to bring an umbrella. In his crisp, expensive suit and with his glossy black hair meticulously groomed, he looked like the kind of guy who had enough common sense to pack an umbrella, look before walking into revolving doors, and use this scary thing called depth perception to keep from smashing a folder into his boss’s nose.
The umbrella hid his face when he snapped it open, and she started to look away—until he tipped it back, and she caught a glimpse of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He was dark, almost swarthy, exotically tan, and a picture-perfect portrait of devastatingly tall, dark and handsome.
Seriously, Steph, you have to stop reading romance novels before bed.
She felt a little too warm. It had to be pushing ninety out, and he was probably sweating in that suit. It looked like it cost more than the rent on her apartment, and he was probably soaking stains into the armpits of his finely tailored shirt. Did men who looked like that even sweat? Or would he only sweat when he was conveniently shirtless, glistening and—
Down, girl.
He caught her eye. Crap. She was staring. He raised both brows; her face went hot, and she looked away quickly, lifting her chin with as much dignity as she could muster. She was calm. She was cool. She was in control.
She was soaking wet.
The sky opened up like a cup tipped on its side. Yep. She was cool and still standing there like an idiot with her chin thrust out and her shoulders square and her feet glued to the ground while everyone else tumbled off the sidewalk and into the street. The little walking man said go, and Stephanie just stood there, because that was what Stephanie did.
Christ, she was a walking disaster.
The rain cut off as quickly as it started. She glanced up, but the sky was as black as…
…as black as the umbrella the blue-eyed man was holding over her.
She stared up at the umbrella spokes, then at him. “Uh.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. Was it from a smile or a frown? She couldn’t tell. “You missed the light.”
“Um. I did. Yes. The little man was—not. Moving, I mean.”
His brows knit. “…the little man.” He had a soft hint of an accent she couldn’t quite place, but it made every word sound lustrous and strange, as if he were tasting it before letting it roll off his tongue.
“On the light, I—oh God.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to get caught out and I’m a little…I say stupid things.”
She expected him to laugh at her. But he only curled a rough, large hand against her upper arm. Even through her drenched suit jacket she could feel the warmth of him.
“Come. Before the little man stops moving again.”
Was he making fun of her? She shot him a look, but his stern, elegant face was grave, somber, his eyes trained ahead as he drew her out into the street. The crossing signal had switched to a flashing red hand, warning them that the light was about to change. A few drivers honked their horns, but he moved with an unhurried, relaxed stride, as if he could command the entire street to wait for him if he wished.
He’d somehow managed to command Stephanie, at least. She hadn’t even realized she was moving, skittering along and nearly tripping over her heels, until they were almost on the opposite sidewalk.
“Um,” she said. “Thanks.”
“It was nothing.” He scanned the length of the street, eyes distant, preoccupied. “Would you like me to call you a cab?”
“No, I—” She’d started to say she couldn’t afford a cab, but flushed and bit her tongue. “I’m meeting someone. For lunch. Near here. I can run. I can’t get any wetter than I already am.”
His gaze returned to her. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His eyes said it all, dipping down her body and lingering on the way the thin linen suit clung to her chest.
Maybe I should just crawl into a hole and die right now.
“I mean—I—damn it.” She couldn’t help but laugh helplessly. “This is karma. It has to be. I got through a whole presentation without tripping over my tongue. Had to balance it out somehow.”
Again that twitch of his lips. Did he not know how to smile? “Sounds perfectly logical.”
“It sounds crazy. You don’t have to humor me.” She smiled sheepishly. “Thanks for the rescue, but I’m heading this way.” She wiggled her fingers in the direction of the restaurant and ducked out from under the umbrella, pulling her arm from his grasp. Not the most graceful exit, backing away with raindrops plopping on her head and dripping down her nose, but better than standing there and finding out just how far she could shove a Manolo heel down her throat.
She turned her back on him and walked away as quickly as she could. A soft scuff of footsteps warned her just before he fell into stride with her again, and the rain stopped once more. She nearly tripped over her toes and stumbled to a halt, eyes wide.
“Look, it’s really nice of you to play the gentleman, but…”
“…but I am already going this way.” He shrugged one broad shoulder. “But if you enjoy pneumonia…”
“Point taken.”
Her nervous little laugh was met with only silence. She clamped her mouth shut, folded her arms over her damp chest, and hunched into herself. This was mortifying. Getting chaperoned to lunch by a total stranger who decided to take pity on the walking disaster. It wouldn’t be quite so embarrassing if he wasn’t so gorgeous. She must be making a great first impression: soaked down to her panties, hair drenched and sticking to her face, make-up running everywhere. She wished she’d spent the extra two dollars for the waterproof mascara.
She glanced at him sidelong, but he was looking straight ahead. The left shoulder of his dark suit was somehow darker, and she realized— “You’re getting your suit wet!”
He shrugged. “Water dries.”
“That suit had to cost ten thousand dollars!”
“Did it?” He glanced down at himself, lips thinning slightly. “I didn’t check the receipt.”
How nice for you, she thought, but bit her tongue. She seemed to be doing that a lot today. “Still. At least let me pay for your dry cleaning, mister…?”
“Rory,” he said. “Derek Rory.”
“Stephanie Miller,” she said, then fumbled in her purse until she found one of her business cards. “Here. So you can send me the bill.”
He tucked the card in his pocket without looking at it. He was probably used to women finding ways to give him their number. God, she hoped he didn’t think it was a pickup line.
With the way her day was going, the last thing she needed was an awkward rejection. She still had the investor meeting this afternoon, and after the storm, karma owed her a few points on the good side.
But all he said was, “You’re cold.”
“What?”
“You’re shivering.” He started to shrug out of his jacket. “You’ll catch sick.”
She held her hands up and forced a smile. “That’s really not necessary. Besides, here’s my stop.” She gestured at the TGIFriday’s across the street. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
Still he remained silent. But with the way his eyes drifted over her again, she suddenly wasn’t feeling very cold at all, and her breath caught. Her pulse felt like a little drum inside her throat, and as if he could hear it, his gaze lingered on her neck. She flushed.
“Right, well…I’ll just be going. Yep. Thanks again, Mr. Rory. Have a nice day.”
She turned and scampered across the street, ducking into a break in traffic without even waiting for the light. The rain had a few more moments to prick her with its damp needles before she dipped under the awning outside the restaurant. She took a moment to straighten her clothing as much as possible. She’d have to slip into the bathroom before going back to work, and hope she could make herself presentable again with a little creative use of the hand dryer.
She heard footsteps at her back, and the snap of an umbrella closing. She was blocking the door. It wasn’t until she stepped aside that she realized Derek had come up behind her and was still watching her with that unnerving, deadpan silence. There was no way someone dressed like him was on his way to Friday’s.
Not her business. He didn’t say anything to her, so he was probably just waiting for her to get out of the way. She flashed him her patented Stephanie Miller Awkward Smile™ and slipped inside.
The hostess offered a brief smile, barely sparing a glance for Stephanie’s sodden clothing. “Table for one?”
“No, I’m here to meet—”
“Her brother,” Aaron said, and rose from one of the seats in the waiting area to pull her into a quick, tight hug, wet clothing and all. Of course he was perfectly dry, not one blond curl out of place and his typical Men in Black suit spotless. “You look like a wet cat. I told you to run.”
“You try running in heels.”
“Maybe I have. But that’s classified information.”
He glanced up as the bell over the door rang again. That cool, easy Aaron smile slid across his lips. Not for the first time, Stephanie envied him his casual composure.
Especially now, when he stepped past her and said, “Derek. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”
Stephanie closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed that for once, she wasn’t about to end up completely embarrassed. It was a different Derek. It was a common enough name, right? Right. So her brother’s friend hadn’t just seen her making a complete ass of herself out in the rain. When she turned around, it would be a completely different man standing there.
“I was a little delayed,” Derek Rory said. Stephanie cringed and glanced over her shoulder, watching her brother clasp Derek’s hand with easy familiarity. Past her brother’s tousled head, Derek caught her eye with that wry not-smile. “Apparently by rescuing your sister.”
Oh.
Well.
Crap.
*Winner will be picked, and notified via email, randomly via rafflecopter when the contest ends. No purchase necessary to enter. Contest is open internationally. Value of the prize is approximately $200.00.
Release Day for FAKING IT, win a diamond necklace, and read the first chapter for FREE!
My Indulgence is out TODAY! It’s such a fun book featuring a fake engagement, a touch of opposites attract, and a dash of falling in love with your best friend’s little sister. Check it out! And don’t forget to enter the fun contest I’m throwing! The rafflecopter to enter to win is at the bottom of this post! You could win the same diamond necklace that Derek gives Stephanie in the book.
Read the first chapter of Faking It for FREE below!
*Special Note* My name was entered wrong on all of the book websites, so if you can’t find Faking It, try typing “Diane Albert” instead of “Diane Alberts”
Approximately 210 pages.
Look below to see what the necklace looks like:
Blurb:
Derek Rory never meant to propose to his best friend’s little sister. But when her boss tells a family-oriented investor he’s Stephanie’s fiancé, Derek can either play along or let her get fired. He’s hardly one to turn away from a damsel in distress. If only that damsel wasn’t adorable and sexy with a laugh that could melt any cold business mogul’s heart.
When a business proposal becomes a marriage proposal, Stephanie Miller tries to keep it strictly boardroom. But when things get hot under the table, it’s all they can do to stay apart. As the tangle of lies drags them deeper into the underhanded world of business politics, Stephanie finds herself in over her head—not just with her job, but with her “fiancé.” His eyes are cold, but his kisses light her on fire. If she’s not careful, she’ll end up faking her way into a real romance.
Buy Links:
Excerpt:
Chapter One
This was it.
This was her moment. The moment when Stephanie Miller—occasional klutz at best, walking disaster at worst—would make or break her career. She stood before the projection screen, her neatly-arranged slides the only light in the darkened office. Her boss sat behind his huge oak desk, and underneath his perpetual calculating sneer, he actually looked interested. Maybe evenimpressed. He’d listened without a word for the past twenty minutes. If she’d held his interest this long, it was a good sign. Once she pulled this off, she’d be given the Weyland Project account and a chance to truly prove herself as the senior investment manager that Inner State Medical needed.
Or she would if she managed to get through the last few lines of her speech without tripping over her tongue, or sticking her foot in her mouth.
She clicked on the last PowerPoint slide and pasted on her most confident smile. She’d been practicing it in the mirror for days, and had finally managed to edge it somewhere away from “uncomfortable constipation” and a little closer to “coolly intelligent.” Or at least “somewhat less awkward and dorky than normal.”
Close enough for government work.
“As you can see,” she said, “I’ve researched potential investors and narrowed it down to the top three, with proposed targeting strategies for reaching C-level executives and key influencers in the top tiers of their organizations.” Key influencers. She liked that. It made her sound like she knew what she was doing, and she straightened her shoulders as she crossed the room to Mr. Rodgers’ desk. “You’ll find the full details in my proposal package. I think, if we follow this roadmap, we’ll secure the high-profile investor the Weyland Project needs to succeed.”
She thrust the file folder at him. Be assertive, her corporate etiquette books had said. Show them you’re not afraid to play with the big boys. So she assertively offered him the folder.
And assertively bonked him right in the nose.
He didn’t move. Didn’t so much as twitch one bushy brow. His hair, waxed into place in a dirt-colored pompadour the envy of Donald Trump, didn’t even move in the thin breeze from the air vents. His flat gray eyes watched her unblinkingly over his steepled fingers, and her smile suddenly felt more like a frozen grimace. She cleared her throat and gingerly set the folder down on the desk in front of him, then backed away. Out of reach, before she could cap this off by knocking over his pencil cup or spilling scalding hot coffee everywhere. It wouldn’t be the first time.
After a measured silence—no doubt deliberately calculated to keep her off guard—he tapped his fingers together and sat back in his chair. He didn’t so much as look at the proposal. “Why should I choose you? You’ve never taken lead on a project. You’re a temp, and your contract is almost over. Why should I trust you with an account this large? Or at all?”
“I might not be as experienced as others,” she took a steadying breath, “but you won’t find anyone in this office more committed to this project than I am. Helping others matters to me, and this is just the first step. If—no, when I get an investor to sign a contract with Inner State Medical, I’ll be able to—”
“Save the world?” Mr. Rodgers snorted. “We all set out to save the world at first. Then we realize the world revolves around money. Nothing happens without money. Lots of it.”
Like the money that goes to pay your overstuffed six-figure salary? How many of the underprivileged does your beach house in Boca Raton help? Stephanie swallowed back her retort. Not the best way to get the job. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re angling for a full-time position.”
“I won’t deny a little job security would be nice, sir. But it’s about more than that. This project is important to me.”
He watched her shrewdly. She could practically time his silences at this point. Fifteen seconds meant he was trying to keep the advantage over a subordinate. Twenty seconds meant he was angry and making a point. Anything longer than that and he wasn’t even listening. These games were exhausting, but she’d learned to wait him out.
Finally Rodgers said, “Do you know how I earned my position, Stephanie?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He usually didn’t. “By trusting my gut. It’s never steered me wrong. My gut is telling me you might be worth a chance. I’ll give you one shot at the Weyland Project.” He pinned her with a sharp look. “One.”
Stephanie suppressed a grin. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
He picked up the folder and leafed through it, then tossed it back onto the desk. “But your list of investors is useless. Mr. Wheeler from Wheeler Enterprises will be in to discuss investment opportunities this afternoon. Impress him, and you’ve got the job.”
Stephanie curled her hands into fists before she did something unprofessional. Like trying to raise the roof. Or high-five her boss. She settled for a smile. “Of course, sir. I’ll be at my best.”
“See that you are.” He handed the file back. “Or you’ll be finding a new job sooner than you think.”
“Y-Yes. Understood, sir.” She grabbed the folder and offered her hand. “Thank you.”
He shook her hand with a careful, almost dainty touch, then dug in his desk until he unearthed a bottle of hand sanitizer. She had to bite back a nervous laugh. Here she was in an impeccable Calvin Klein dress suit, and he was trying to scrub off her cooties after a simple handshake.
“You’re welcome. You may go now,” Mr. Rodgers said.
He picked up his phone and started dialing. She’d been dismissed.
She left the room with as much calm dignity as she could manage, made her way to her tiny cubicle, then sank into her seat. She wanted to do a happy dance, but not with so many prying eyes around. She couldn’t even call her brother to squeal in his ear—but that’s what texts were for.
Aaron guess what I landed the project!!!! I’m meeting with an investor today!!!!!
Her phone buzzed within less than a minute.
It should be criminal for a grown woman to use that many exclamation points. We’ll talk at lunch. The department head will skewer me for using FBI equipment for personal texts. Stop using this number.
She fought back a giggle. Giggling. God, she really was giddy.
If you’d answer your normal phone I wouldn’t have to, Mr. Super Spy.
He didn’t answer. She didn’t expect him to, but she couldn’t help grinning to herself as she stashed her phone in her purse and spun back to her laptop. Time to do a little digging. She only had a few hours to get as much intel on Mr. Wheeler as possible, and since she doubted Aaron would humor his little sister and fork over Wheeler’s FBI file, Google would have to do. She couldn’t afford to fail. Not for her own sake, or for the thousands of low-income Miami residents who couldn’t afford decent healthcare. They needed access to doctors, vaccines, antibiotics.
And she would get it for them.
Her parents had been poor. They had struggled for years to care for her and her three brothers. They’d missed doctor’s visits, sacrificed their personal lives, given up every minute of their lives and every single penny for their children—with not a cent to spare.
Yet they’d been happy. They’d always been happy, in their quiet little world that revolved around everything but Mr. Rodgers’ all-important money.
Stephanie’s brothers—with the exception of Ben, still in college—did everything they could to repay them. They sent back money. They bought their parents everything they might need. Easy enough for them, with steady jobs. Stephanie was the only one who hadn’t been able to give back a single cent. She barely made enough to pay for food, work-appropriate clothing, and a tiny one-bedroom apartment in an area of town where walking home alone after dark could mean never making it home at all. She needed this job. To give back to her parents—and to the whole community.
Her phone buzzed. She picked it up and turned off the alarm. Twelve o’clock. Lunch time. She locked her computer, snagged her purse, and hurried down the hallway, past the elevator crowd and to the stairs. She hit the sidewalk running, but paused for a cautious glance up to the sky. Crap. Cloudy with a chance of pouring buckets. One day she’d learn the local weatherman was a filthy liar. She’d left her umbrella at home.
Her phone trilled the first few bars of “All the Single Ladies,” and she pulled it out of her purse. “I’m on my way now. About three and a half blocks away.”
“I know. I’m tracking you on GPS.”
Stephanie chuckled. “You never get tired of that joke, do you?”
“What’s funny is you think I’m joking.”
“You’re a riot. Really. Not even going to congratulate me?”
“Don’t need to. I already knew you could do it.”
She could have burst with pride. This was the first time she was actually doing something on her own—without one of her overprotective, overbearing brothers helping her.
And she would succeed. She knew it.
A loud clap of thunder sounded, echoing in the phone. Stephanie practically jumped out of her skin and looked up at the sky again. “Either it’s about to rain, or someone just broke the sound barrier.”
“It’s been thundering since before dawn. Don’t tell me you didn’t bring an umbrella.”
“The weatherman said it wouldn’t rain!”
“And you believed him.” He laughed. “GPS says you’re only seven minutes away. Maybe you can run it.”
“You’re bluffing. Your GPS doesn’t say anything.” A fat drop of rain splatted on her nose, and she swiped it away. “Except that I’m about to get drenched.”
“Then you might want to get moving. And sis?”
“Hm?”
“Hang up. The last time you tried walking and talking, you walked right into a wall.”
The phone went dead before she could retort. She stared at it. He’d been away on one of his ever-so-classified assignments the week she’d been walking around with a swollen nose from slamming right into a revolving door.
Maybe he wasn’t joking about that GPS thing.
Before she could stow the phone in her purse, it buzzed with a new text message.
By the way, almost forgot—we’ve got company for lunch. Old college friend is in town. He’d love to meet you.
She started to tap something back when a second message came in.
You’re not running. Yes, I am watching.
She rolled her eyes and dropped her phone into her purse without answering. Sometimes, Aaron liked playing the creepy spy too much—right down to faking his little sister out.
He’d better be faking, at least, if he wanted to keep all his teeth.
And he’d better not be thinking about setting her up with this “old college friend.”
She stopped at a traffic light and waited for the little walking man to tell her she could do a little walking, too. At her side, a rather imposingly tall man withdrew an umbrella from his laptop bag. She glanced at him enviously. Of course he’d had the foresight to bring an umbrella. In his crisp, expensive suit and with his glossy black hair meticulously groomed, he looked like the kind of guy who had enough common sense to pack an umbrella, look before walking into revolving doors, and use this scary thing called depth perception to keep from smashing a folder into his boss’s nose.
The umbrella hid his face when he snapped it open, and she started to look away—until he tipped it back, and she caught a glimpse of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He was dark, almost swarthy, exotically tan, and a picture-perfect portrait of devastatingly tall, dark and handsome.
Seriously, Steph, you have to stop reading romance novels before bed.
She felt a little too warm. It had to be pushing ninety out, and he was probably sweating in that suit. It looked like it cost more than the rent on her apartment, and he was probably soaking stains into the armpits of his finely tailored shirt. Did men who looked like that even sweat? Or would he only sweat when he was conveniently shirtless, glistening and—
Down, girl.
He caught her eye. Crap. She was staring. He raised both brows; her face went hot, and she looked away quickly, lifting her chin with as much dignity as she could muster. She was calm. She was cool. She was in control.
She was soaking wet.
The sky opened up like a cup tipped on its side. Yep. She was cool and still standing there like an idiot with her chin thrust out and her shoulders square and her feet glued to the ground while everyone else tumbled off the sidewalk and into the street. The little walking man said go, and Stephanie just stood there, because that was what Stephanie did.
Christ, she was a walking disaster.
The rain cut off as quickly as it started. She glanced up, but the sky was as black as…
…as black as the umbrella the blue-eyed man was holding over her.
She stared up at the umbrella spokes, then at him. “Uh.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. Was it from a smile or a frown? She couldn’t tell. “You missed the light.”
“Um. I did. Yes. The little man was—not. Moving, I mean.”
His brows knit. “…the little man.” He had a soft hint of an accent she couldn’t quite place, but it made every word sound lustrous and strange, as if he were tasting it before letting it roll off his tongue.
“On the light, I—oh God.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to get caught out and I’m a little…I say stupid things.”
She expected him to laugh at her. But he only curled a rough, large hand against her upper arm. Even through her drenched suit jacket she could feel the warmth of him.
“Come. Before the little man stops moving again.”
Was he making fun of her? She shot him a look, but his stern, elegant face was grave, somber, his eyes trained ahead as he drew her out into the street. The crossing signal had switched to a flashing red hand, warning them that the light was about to change. A few drivers honked their horns, but he moved with an unhurried, relaxed stride, as if he could command the entire street to wait for him if he wished.
He’d somehow managed to command Stephanie, at least. She hadn’t even realized she was moving, skittering along and nearly tripping over her heels, until they were almost on the opposite sidewalk.
“Um,” she said. “Thanks.”
“It was nothing.” He scanned the length of the street, eyes distant, preoccupied. “Would you like me to call you a cab?”
“No, I—” She’d started to say she couldn’t afford a cab, but flushed and bit her tongue. “I’m meeting someone. For lunch. Near here. I can run. I can’t get any wetter than I already am.”
His gaze returned to her. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His eyes said it all, dipping down her body and lingering on the way the thin linen suit clung to her chest.
Maybe I should just crawl into a hole and die right now.
“I mean—I—damn it.” She couldn’t help but laugh helplessly. “This is karma. It has to be. I got through a whole presentation without tripping over my tongue. Had to balance it out somehow.”
Again that twitch of his lips. Did he not know how to smile? “Sounds perfectly logical.”
“It sounds crazy. You don’t have to humor me.” She smiled sheepishly. “Thanks for the rescue, but I’m heading this way.” She wiggled her fingers in the direction of the restaurant and ducked out from under the umbrella, pulling her arm from his grasp. Not the most graceful exit, backing away with raindrops plopping on her head and dripping down her nose, but better than standing there and finding out just how far she could shove a Manolo heel down her throat.
She turned her back on him and walked away as quickly as she could. A soft scuff of footsteps warned her just before he fell into stride with her again, and the rain stopped once more. She nearly tripped over her toes and stumbled to a halt, eyes wide.
“Look, it’s really nice of you to play the gentleman, but…”
“…but I am already going this way.” He shrugged one broad shoulder. “But if you enjoy pneumonia…”
“Point taken.”
Her nervous little laugh was met with only silence. She clamped her mouth shut, folded her arms over her damp chest, and hunched into herself. This was mortifying. Getting chaperoned to lunch by a total stranger who decided to take pity on the walking disaster. It wouldn’t be quite so embarrassing if he wasn’t so gorgeous. She must be making a great first impression: soaked down to her panties, hair drenched and sticking to her face, make-up running everywhere. She wished she’d spent the extra two dollars for the waterproof mascara.
She glanced at him sidelong, but he was looking straight ahead. The left shoulder of his dark suit was somehow darker, and she realized— “You’re getting your suit wet!”
He shrugged. “Water dries.”
“That suit had to cost ten thousand dollars!”
“Did it?” He glanced down at himself, lips thinning slightly. “I didn’t check the receipt.”
How nice for you, she thought, but bit her tongue. She seemed to be doing that a lot today. “Still. At least let me pay for your dry cleaning, mister…?”
“Rory,” he said. “Derek Rory.”
“Stephanie Miller,” she said, then fumbled in her purse until she found one of her business cards. “Here. So you can send me the bill.”
He tucked the card in his pocket without looking at it. He was probably used to women finding ways to give him their number. God, she hoped he didn’t think it was a pickup line.
With the way her day was going, the last thing she needed was an awkward rejection. She still had the investor meeting this afternoon, and after the storm, karma owed her a few points on the good side.
But all he said was, “You’re cold.”
“What?”
“You’re shivering.” He started to shrug out of his jacket. “You’ll catch sick.”
She held her hands up and forced a smile. “That’s really not necessary. Besides, here’s my stop.” She gestured at the TGIFriday’s across the street. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
Still he remained silent. But with the way his eyes drifted over her again, she suddenly wasn’t feeling very cold at all, and her breath caught. Her pulse felt like a little drum inside her throat, and as if he could hear it, his gaze lingered on her neck. She flushed.
“Right, well…I’ll just be going. Yep. Thanks again, Mr. Rory. Have a nice day.”
She turned and scampered across the street, ducking into a break in traffic without even waiting for the light. The rain had a few more moments to prick her with its damp needles before she dipped under the awning outside the restaurant. She took a moment to straighten her clothing as much as possible. She’d have to slip into the bathroom before going back to work, and hope she could make herself presentable again with a little creative use of the hand dryer.
She heard footsteps at her back, and the snap of an umbrella closing. She was blocking the door. It wasn’t until she stepped aside that she realized Derek had come up behind her and was still watching her with that unnerving, deadpan silence. There was no way someone dressed like him was on his way to Friday’s.
Not her business. He didn’t say anything to her, so he was probably just waiting for her to get out of the way. She flashed him her patented Stephanie Miller Awkward Smile™ and slipped inside.
The hostess offered a brief smile, barely sparing a glance for Stephanie’s sodden clothing. “Table for one?”
“No, I’m here to meet—”
“Her brother,” Aaron said, and rose from one of the seats in the waiting area to pull her into a quick, tight hug, wet clothing and all. Of course he was perfectly dry, not one blond curl out of place and his typical Men in Black suit spotless. “You look like a wet cat. I told you to run.”
“You try running in heels.”
“Maybe I have. But that’s classified information.”
He glanced up as the bell over the door rang again. That cool, easy Aaron smile slid across his lips. Not for the first time, Stephanie envied him his casual composure.
Especially now, when he stepped past her and said, “Derek. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”
Stephanie closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed that for once, she wasn’t about to end up completely embarrassed. It was a different Derek. It was a common enough name, right? Right. So her brother’s friend hadn’t just seen her making a complete ass of herself out in the rain. When she turned around, it would be a completely different man standing there.
“I was a little delayed,” Derek Rory said. Stephanie cringed and glanced over her shoulder, watching her brother clasp Derek’s hand with easy familiarity. Past her brother’s tousled head, Derek caught her eye with that wry not-smile. “Apparently by rescuing your sister.”
Oh.
Well.
Crap.
*Winner will be picked, and notified via email, randomly via rafflecopter when the contest ends. No purchase necessary to enter. Contest is open internationally. Value of the prize is approximately $200.00.
March 8, 2013
FAKING IT contest! Who wants a diamond necklace?
Yep, you read it right! I love having contests and giveaways, and when I finished writing Faking It, I knew immediately what I would have to give away to celebrate. In the book, the hero gives the heroine a diamond necklace. Princess cut. White gold. No sooner was I finished writing the scene than I knew what I needed to giveaway. That necklace! Look below to see what the necklace looks like:
Well, I found the exact necklace Derek gave Stephanie–yep, I did do my research before typing the words –and I’m offering it up for my readers! You could win a .10 carat, white gold diamond necklace! All you have to do to enter for a chance to win is follow the easy steps below in the rafflecopter. Follow the instructions, enter to win, and most of all…keep on reading!
Learn more about Faking It:
Approximately 210 pages.
Blurb:
Derek Rory never meant to propose to his best friend’s little sister. But when her boss tells a family-oriented investor he’s Stephanie’s fiancé, Derek can either play along or let her get fired. He’s hardly one to turn away from a damsel in distress. If only that damsel wasn’t adorable and sexy with a laugh that could melt any cold business mogul’s heart.
When a business proposal becomes a marriage proposal, Stephanie Miller tries to keep it strictly boardroom. But when things get hot under the table, it’s all they can do to stay apart. As the tangle of lies drags them deeper into the underhanded world of business politics, Stephanie finds herself in over her head—not just with her job, but with her “fiancé.” His eyes are cold, but his kisses light her on fire. If she’s not careful, she’ll end up faking her way into a real romance.
Buy Links:
Entangled Publishing
Books on Board
Excerpt:
Coming soon
a Rafflecopter giveaway
*Winner will be picked, and notified via email, randomly via rafflecopter when the contest ends. No purchase necessary to enter. Contest is open internationally. Value of the prize is approximately $200.00.
COVER REVEAL!! Faking It is out!
My Indulgence is out TODAY! It’s such a fun book featuring a fake engagement, a touch of opposites attract, and a dash of falling in love with your best friend’s little sister. Check it out! And don’t forget to enter the fun contest I’m throwing! You could win the same diamond necklace that Derek gives Stephanie in the book!
Approximately 210 pages.
Blurb:
Derek Rory never meant to propose to his best friend’s little sister. But when her boss tells a family-oriented investor he’s Stephanie’s fiancé, Derek can either play along or let her get fired. He’s hardly one to turn away from a damsel in distress. If only that damsel wasn’t adorable and sexy with a laugh that could melt any cold business mogul’s heart.
When a business proposal becomes a marriage proposal, Stephanie Miller tries to keep it strictly boardroom. But when things get hot under the table, it’s all they can do to stay apart. As the tangle of lies drags them deeper into the underhanded world of business politics, Stephanie finds herself in over her head—not just with her job, but with her “fiancé.” His eyes are cold, but his kisses light her on fire. If she’s not careful, she’ll end up faking her way into a real romance.
Buy Links:
Excerpt:
Chapter One
This was it.
This was her moment. The moment when Stephanie Miller—occasional klutz at best, walking disaster at worst—would make or break her career. She stood before the projection screen, her neatly-arranged slides the only light in the darkened office. Her boss sat behind his huge oak desk, and underneath his perpetual calculating sneer, he actually looked interested. Maybe evenimpressed. He’d listened without a word for the past twenty minutes. If she’d held his interest this long, it was a good sign. Once she pulled this off, she’d be given the Weyland Project account and a chance to truly prove herself as the senior investment manager that Inner State Medical needed.
Or she would if she managed to get through the last few lines of her speech without tripping over her tongue, or sticking her foot in her mouth.
She clicked on the last PowerPoint slide and pasted on her most confident smile. She’d been practicing it in the mirror for days, and had finally managed to edge it somewhere away from “uncomfortable constipation” and a little closer to “coolly intelligent.” Or at least “somewhat less awkward and dorky than normal.”
Close enough for government work.
“As you can see,” she said, “I’ve researched potential investors and narrowed it down to the top three, with proposed targeting strategies for reaching C-level executives and key influencers in the top tiers of their organizations.” Key influencers. She liked that. It made her sound like she knew what she was doing, and she straightened her shoulders as she crossed the room to Mr. Rodgers’ desk. “You’ll find the full details in my proposal package. I think, if we follow this roadmap, we’ll secure the high-profile investor the Weyland Project needs to succeed.”
She thrust the file folder at him. Be assertive, her corporate etiquette books had said. Show them you’re not afraid to play with the big boys. So she assertively offered him the folder.
And assertively bonked him right in the nose.
He didn’t move. Didn’t so much as twitch one bushy brow. His hair, waxed into place in a dirt-colored pompadour the envy of Donald Trump, didn’t even move in the thin breeze from the air vents. His flat gray eyes watched her unblinkingly over his steepled fingers, and her smile suddenly felt more like a frozen grimace. She cleared her throat and gingerly set the folder down on the desk in front of him, then backed away. Out of reach, before she could cap this off by knocking over his pencil cup or spilling scalding hot coffee everywhere. It wouldn’t be the first time.
After a measured silence—no doubt deliberately calculated to keep her off guard—he tapped his fingers together and sat back in his chair. He didn’t so much as look at the proposal. “Why should I choose you? You’ve never taken lead on a project. You’re a temp, and your contract is almost over. Why should I trust you with an account this large? Or at all?”
“I might not be as experienced as others,” she took a steadying breath, “but you won’t find anyone in this office more committed to this project than I am. Helping others matters to me, and this is just the first step. If—no, when I get an investor to sign a contract with Inner State Medical, I’ll be able to—”
“Save the world?” Mr. Rodgers snorted. “We all set out to save the world at first. Then we realize the world revolves around money. Nothing happens without money. Lots of it.”
Like the money that goes to pay your overstuffed six-figure salary? How many of the underprivileged does your beach house in Boca Raton help? Stephanie swallowed back her retort. Not the best way to get the job. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re angling for a full-time position.”
“I won’t deny a little job security would be nice, sir. But it’s about more than that. This project is important to me.”
He watched her shrewdly. She could practically time his silences at this point. Fifteen seconds meant he was trying to keep the advantage over a subordinate. Twenty seconds meant he was angry and making a point. Anything longer than that and he wasn’t even listening. These games were exhausting, but she’d learned to wait him out.
Finally Rodgers said, “Do you know how I earned my position, Stephanie?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He usually didn’t. “By trusting my gut. It’s never steered me wrong. My gut is telling me you might be worth a chance. I’ll give you one shot at the Weyland Project.” He pinned her with a sharp look. “One.”
Stephanie suppressed a grin. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
He picked up the folder and leafed through it, then tossed it back onto the desk. “But your list of investors is useless. Mr. Wheeler from Wheeler Enterprises will be in to discuss investment opportunities this afternoon. Impress him, and you’ve got the job.”
Stephanie curled her hands into fists before she did something unprofessional. Like trying to raise the roof. Or high-five her boss. She settled for a smile. “Of course, sir. I’ll be at my best.”
“See that you are.” He handed the file back. “Or you’ll be finding a new job sooner than you think.”
“Y-Yes. Understood, sir.” She grabbed the folder and offered her hand. “Thank you.”
He shook her hand with a careful, almost dainty touch, then dug in his desk until he unearthed a bottle of hand sanitizer. She had to bite back a nervous laugh. Here she was in an impeccable Calvin Klein dress suit, and he was trying to scrub off her cooties after a simple handshake.
“You’re welcome. You may go now,” Mr. Rodgers said.
He picked up his phone and started dialing. She’d been dismissed.
She left the room with as much calm dignity as she could manage, made her way to her tiny cubicle, then sank into her seat. She wanted to do a happy dance, but not with so many prying eyes around. She couldn’t even call her brother to squeal in his ear—but that’s what texts were for.
Aaron guess what I landed the project!!!! I’m meeting with an investor today!!!!!
Her phone buzzed within less than a minute.
It should be criminal for a grown woman to use that many exclamation points. We’ll talk at lunch. The department head will skewer me for using FBI equipment for personal texts. Stop using this number.
She fought back a giggle. Giggling. God, she really was giddy.
If you’d answer your normal phone I wouldn’t have to, Mr. Super Spy.
He didn’t answer. She didn’t expect him to, but she couldn’t help grinning to herself as she stashed her phone in her purse and spun back to her laptop. Time to do a little digging. She only had a few hours to get as much intel on Mr. Wheeler as possible, and since she doubted Aaron would humor his little sister and fork over Wheeler’s FBI file, Google would have to do. She couldn’t afford to fail. Not for her own sake, or for the thousands of low-income Miami residents who couldn’t afford decent healthcare. They needed access to doctors, vaccines, antibiotics.
And she would get it for them.
Her parents had been poor. They had struggled for years to care for her and her three brothers. They’d missed doctor’s visits, sacrificed their personal lives, given up every minute of their lives and every single penny for their children—with not a cent to spare.
Yet they’d been happy. They’d always been happy, in their quiet little world that revolved around everything but Mr. Rodgers’ all-important money.
Stephanie’s brothers—with the exception of Ben, still in college—did everything they could to repay them. They sent back money. They bought their parents everything they might need. Easy enough for them, with steady jobs. Stephanie was the only one who hadn’t been able to give back a single cent. She barely made enough to pay for food, work-appropriate clothing, and a tiny one-bedroom apartment in an area of town where walking home alone after dark could mean never making it home at all. She needed this job. To give back to her parents—and to the whole community.
Her phone buzzed. She picked it up and turned off the alarm. Twelve o’clock. Lunch time. She locked her computer, snagged her purse, and hurried down the hallway, past the elevator crowd and to the stairs. She hit the sidewalk running, but paused for a cautious glance up to the sky. Crap. Cloudy with a chance of pouring buckets. One day she’d learn the local weatherman was a filthy liar. She’d left her umbrella at home.
Her phone trilled the first few bars of “All the Single Ladies,” and she pulled it out of her purse. “I’m on my way now. About three and a half blocks away.”
“I know. I’m tracking you on GPS.”
Stephanie chuckled. “You never get tired of that joke, do you?”
“What’s funny is you think I’m joking.”
“You’re a riot. Really. Not even going to congratulate me?”
“Don’t need to. I already knew you could do it.”
She could have burst with pride. This was the first time she was actually doing something on her own—without one of her overprotective, overbearing brothers helping her.
And she would succeed. She knew it.
A loud clap of thunder sounded, echoing in the phone. Stephanie practically jumped out of her skin and looked up at the sky again. “Either it’s about to rain, or someone just broke the sound barrier.”
“It’s been thundering since before dawn. Don’t tell me you didn’t bring an umbrella.”
“The weatherman said it wouldn’t rain!”
“And you believed him.” He laughed. “GPS says you’re only seven minutes away. Maybe you can run it.”
“You’re bluffing. Your GPS doesn’t say anything.” A fat drop of rain splatted on her nose, and she swiped it away. “Except that I’m about to get drenched.”
“Then you might want to get moving. And sis?”
“Hm?”
“Hang up. The last time you tried walking and talking, you walked right into a wall.”
The phone went dead before she could retort. She stared at it. He’d been away on one of his ever-so-classified assignments the week she’d been walking around with a swollen nose from slamming right into a revolving door.
Maybe he wasn’t joking about that GPS thing.
Before she could stow the phone in her purse, it buzzed with a new text message.
By the way, almost forgot—we’ve got company for lunch. Old college friend is in town. He’d love to meet you.
She started to tap something back when a second message came in.
You’re not running. Yes, I am watching.
She rolled her eyes and dropped her phone into her purse without answering. Sometimes, Aaron liked playing the creepy spy too much—right down to faking his little sister out.
He’d better be faking, at least, if he wanted to keep all his teeth.
And he’d better not be thinking about setting her up with this “old college friend.”
She stopped at a traffic light and waited for the little walking man to tell her she could do a little walking, too. At her side, a rather imposingly tall man withdrew an umbrella from his laptop bag. She glanced at him enviously. Of course he’d had the foresight to bring an umbrella. In his crisp, expensive suit and with his glossy black hair meticulously groomed, he looked like the kind of guy who had enough common sense to pack an umbrella, look before walking into revolving doors, and use this scary thing called depth perception to keep from smashing a folder into his boss’s nose.
The umbrella hid his face when he snapped it open, and she started to look away—until he tipped it back, and she caught a glimpse of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He was dark, almost swarthy, exotically tan, and a picture-perfect portrait of devastatingly tall, dark and handsome.
Seriously, Steph, you have to stop reading romance novels before bed.
She felt a little too warm. It had to be pushing ninety out, and he was probably sweating in that suit. It looked like it cost more than the rent on her apartment, and he was probably soaking stains into the armpits of his finely tailored shirt. Did men who looked like that even sweat? Or would he only sweat when he was conveniently shirtless, glistening and—
Down, girl.
He caught her eye. Crap. She was staring. He raised both brows; her face went hot, and she looked away quickly, lifting her chin with as much dignity as she could muster. She was calm. She was cool. She was in control.
She was soaking wet.
The sky opened up like a cup tipped on its side. Yep. She was cool and still standing there like an idiot with her chin thrust out and her shoulders square and her feet glued to the ground while everyone else tumbled off the sidewalk and into the street. The little walking man said go, and Stephanie just stood there, because that was what Stephanie did.
Christ, she was a walking disaster.
The rain cut off as quickly as it started. She glanced up, but the sky was as black as…
…as black as the umbrella the blue-eyed man was holding over her.
She stared up at the umbrella spokes, then at him. “Uh.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. Was it from a smile or a frown? She couldn’t tell. “You missed the light.”
“Um. I did. Yes. The little man was—not. Moving, I mean.”
His brows knit. “…the little man.” He had a soft hint of an accent she couldn’t quite place, but it made every word sound lustrous and strange, as if he were tasting it before letting it roll off his tongue.
“On the light, I—oh God.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to get caught out and I’m a little…I say stupid things.”
She expected him to laugh at her. But he only curled a rough, large hand against her upper arm. Even through her drenched suit jacket she could feel the warmth of him.
“Come. Before the little man stops moving again.”
Was he making fun of her? She shot him a look, but his stern, elegant face was grave, somber, his eyes trained ahead as he drew her out into the street. The crossing signal had switched to a flashing red hand, warning them that the light was about to change. A few drivers honked their horns, but he moved with an unhurried, relaxed stride, as if he could command the entire street to wait for him if he wished.
He’d somehow managed to command Stephanie, at least. She hadn’t even realized she was moving, skittering along and nearly tripping over her heels, until they were almost on the opposite sidewalk.
“Um,” she said. “Thanks.”
“It was nothing.” He scanned the length of the street, eyes distant, preoccupied. “Would you like me to call you a cab?”
“No, I—” She’d started to say she couldn’t afford a cab, but flushed and bit her tongue. “I’m meeting someone. For lunch. Near here. I can run. I can’t get any wetter than I already am.”
His gaze returned to her. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His eyes said it all, dipping down her body and lingering on the way the thin linen suit clung to her chest.
Maybe I should just crawl into a hole and die right now.
“I mean—I—damn it.” She couldn’t help but laugh helplessly. “This is karma. It has to be. I got through a whole presentation without tripping over my tongue. Had to balance it out somehow.”
Again that twitch of his lips. Did he not know how to smile? “Sounds perfectly logical.”
“It sounds crazy. You don’t have to humor me.” She smiled sheepishly. “Thanks for the rescue, but I’m heading this way.” She wiggled her fingers in the direction of the restaurant and ducked out from under the umbrella, pulling her arm from his grasp. Not the most graceful exit, backing away with raindrops plopping on her head and dripping down her nose, but better than standing there and finding out just how far she could shove a Manolo heel down her throat.
She turned her back on him and walked away as quickly as she could. A soft scuff of footsteps warned her just before he fell into stride with her again, and the rain stopped once more. She nearly tripped over her toes and stumbled to a halt, eyes wide.
“Look, it’s really nice of you to play the gentleman, but…”
“…but I am already going this way.” He shrugged one broad shoulder. “But if you enjoy pneumonia…”
“Point taken.”
Her nervous little laugh was met with only silence. She clamped her mouth shut, folded her arms over her damp chest, and hunched into herself. This was mortifying. Getting chaperoned to lunch by a total stranger who decided to take pity on the walking disaster. It wouldn’t be quite so embarrassing if he wasn’t so gorgeous. She must be making a great first impression: soaked down to her panties, hair drenched and sticking to her face, make-up running everywhere. She wished she’d spent the extra two dollars for the waterproof mascara.
She glanced at him sidelong, but he was looking straight ahead. The left shoulder of his dark suit was somehow darker, and she realized— “You’re getting your suit wet!”
He shrugged. “Water dries.”
“That suit had to cost ten thousand dollars!”
“Did it?” He glanced down at himself, lips thinning slightly. “I didn’t check the receipt.”
How nice for you, she thought, but bit her tongue. She seemed to be doing that a lot today. “Still. At least let me pay for your dry cleaning, mister…?”
“Rory,” he said. “Derek Rory.”
“Stephanie Miller,” she said, then fumbled in her purse until she found one of her business cards. “Here. So you can send me the bill.”
He tucked the card in his pocket without looking at it. He was probably used to women finding ways to give him their number. God, she hoped he didn’t think it was a pickup line.
With the way her day was going, the last thing she needed was an awkward rejection. She still had the investor meeting this afternoon, and after the storm, karma owed her a few points on the good side.
But all he said was, “You’re cold.”
“What?”
“You’re shivering.” He started to shrug out of his jacket. “You’ll catch sick.”
She held her hands up and forced a smile. “That’s really not necessary. Besides, here’s my stop.” She gestured at the TGIFriday’s across the street. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”
Still he remained silent. But with the way his eyes drifted over her again, she suddenly wasn’t feeling very cold at all, and her breath caught. Her pulse felt like a little drum inside her throat, and as if he could hear it, his gaze lingered on her neck. She flushed.
“Right, well…I’ll just be going. Yep. Thanks again, Mr. Rory. Have a nice day.”
She turned and scampered across the street, ducking into a break in traffic without even waiting for the light. The rain had a few more moments to prick her with its damp needles before she dipped under the awning outside the restaurant. She took a moment to straighten her clothing as much as possible. She’d have to slip into the bathroom before going back to work, and hope she could make herself presentable again with a little creative use of the hand dryer.
She heard footsteps at her back, and the snap of an umbrella closing. She was blocking the door. It wasn’t until she stepped aside that she realized Derek had come up behind her and was still watching her with that unnerving, deadpan silence. There was no way someone dressed like him was on his way to Friday’s.
Not her business. He didn’t say anything to her, so he was probably just waiting for her to get out of the way. She flashed him her patented Stephanie Miller Awkward Smile™ and slipped inside.
The hostess offered a brief smile, barely sparing a glance for Stephanie’s sodden clothing. “Table for one?”
“No, I’m here to meet—”
“Her brother,” Aaron said, and rose from one of the seats in the waiting area to pull her into a quick, tight hug, wet clothing and all. Of course he was perfectly dry, not one blond curl out of place and his typical Men in Black suit spotless. “You look like a wet cat. I told you to run.”
“You try running in heels.”
“Maybe I have. But that’s classified information.”
He glanced up as the bell over the door rang again. That cool, easy Aaron smile slid across his lips. Not for the first time, Stephanie envied him his casual composure.
Especially now, when he stepped past her and said, “Derek. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”
Stephanie closed her eyes and prayed. Prayed that for once, she wasn’t about to end up completely embarrassed. It was a different Derek. It was a common enough name, right? Right. So her brother’s friend hadn’t just seen her making a complete ass of herself out in the rain. When she turned around, it would be a completely different man standing there.
“I was a little delayed,” Derek Rory said. Stephanie cringed and glanced over her shoulder, watching her brother clasp Derek’s hand with easy familiarity. Past her brother’s tousled head, Derek caught her eye with that wry not-smile. “Apparently by rescuing your sister.”
Oh.
Well.
Crap.
COVER REVEAL!! Faking It is up for pre-order!
My Indulgence is up for pre-order on several sites now! It’s such a fun book featuring a fake engagement, a touch of opposites attract, and a dash of falling in love with your best friend’s little sister. Check it out! And don’t forget to watch my site for a fun contest announcement! I’ll give you a hint…it involves a girl’s best friend.
Approximately 210 pages.
Blurb:
Derek Rory never meant to propose to his best friend’s little sister. But when her boss tells a family-oriented investor he’s Stephanie’s fiancé, Derek can either play along or let her get fired. He’s hardly one to turn away from a damsel in distress. If only that damsel wasn’t adorable and sexy with a laugh that could melt any cold business mogul’s heart.
When a business proposal becomes a marriage proposal, Stephanie Miller tries to keep it strictly boardroom. But when things get hot under the table, it’s all they can do to stay apart. As the tangle of lies drags them deeper into the underhanded world of business politics, Stephanie finds herself in over her head—not just with her job, but with her “fiancé.” His eyes are cold, but his kisses light her on fire. If she’s not careful, she’ll end up faking her way into a real romance.
Buy Links:
Barnes and Noble
Entangled Publishing
Books on Board
March 2, 2013
Giveaway– Jennifer Probst’s newest book is HERE!
I’m so honored to have one of my buddies, the fabulous Jennifer Probst, visiting the blog for a GIVEAWAY! If you haven’t heard of her yet…where have you been?! She’s been blowing up the bestseller lists left and right, dominating the charts and propping up a home on the NY Times and USA Today Bestseller lists, too!
She has a new release coming out Monday, March 4th (but you can preorder it here right now!) called All the Way, and it’s coming out through Entangled Publishing‘s imprint, Indulgence. Read on a bit to learn about the book, and then don’t forget to enter the giveaway for a chance at a free eBook copy of All the Way!
Revenge is a dish best served HOT…
The food critic.
Miranda Storme never expected to see Gavin Luciano again. Three years ago,
they had an intense affair-and then he bolted. Now he’s back, and Miranda
has the pleasure of a little payback: a scathing review of his restaurant.
Revenge is a dish best served the first chance you get.
And the restaurateur.
With three months to make his family’s struggling Italian restaurant
successful, a bad review is Gavin’s worst nightmare. But this isn’t just
about the meal. He’s finally realized what he left behind and is determined
to spend the next eight weeks proving himself to her in the kitchen.and in
the bedroom! This is one dish she won’t be able to refuse…
Now that you’ve read about the book, check out the hot, HOT cover. I seriously love this cover.
A note from Jennifer Probst:
A huge thanks to my good friend Diane Alberts for hosting me here today and
allowing me to shout out my new release! I’m giving away a free book to one
lucky winner who drops by so good luck! And don’t forget to mark your
calendar for March 11th – when Diane will be giving away her new release -
Faking It – at my site – yay!
Now for the giveaway! Use the rafflecopter below to enter for a chance to win a free copy of Jen’s new release, All the Way! Winner will be chosen Tuesday, March 5th when the contest closes at 6:00 PM EST. Open internationally. Winner may choose his/her format of eBook upon winning. Good luck!
February 20, 2013
I have an agent! I’m now represented by…
Louise Fury from the L. Perkins Agency! I’m so excited, I had to find a picture of someone who had the smile I’ve been smiling lately. I think Jesse Pinkman from Breaking Bad pretty much covers it. See below. Only instead of holding a jail sign, I’m holding a contract. And a pen.
Louise and I have been acquainted for some time now, and I couldn’t be happier to be joining her team as one of her authors. I’m in fabulous company! Now excuse me as I go smile off into the distance a wee bit more.
