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284 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 30, 2015

“London Celebrity @LondonCelebrity. 35m
Hot new couple alert!
West Enders Richard Troy and Elaine Graham cuddle up at Pink Ribbon benefit...”

“You would have to have a skin like a rhino to put up with him. Or just no self-esteem at all and a faint aura of desperation.”
“He was no stranger to sexual frustration.
It was more than that. He was...God, he was bonding with her.
Feelings—warm, strong, nauseating feelings—were springing up all over the place, unfurling in his chest, his gut, his groin. Sinking in deep with their little hooks.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Richard. Perhaps a little more flawed than most,” she teased, and he grimaced, “but I shall rise above that and keep a thick skin where you’re concerned.”
“Lainie stroked the sides of Richard’s neck, slid her fingers up to touch his earlobes. She cupped his jaw, feeling the muscles working beneath the warm skin, and attempted to angle the direction of his head. His kiss was both demanding and coaxing, playfully daring a response from her even as he took what he wanted.”





You do realize you’re holding a baby, not a leaking bucket?” She asked conversationally, and he gave her a look that could splinter wood.
“Against your chest, hand under his bottom. Honestly. You must have had a cuddle before.”
“Yes, but women don’t appreciate a hand under their bottom until I’ve at least bought them dinner.”

This just in: romance takes center stage as West End theatre’s Richard Troy steps out with none other than castmate Elaine Graham.
Had she just admitted to finding Richard sexy? She wondered when to expect the remaining signs of the apocalypse.
“A photographer is circling.” The theatrical agent looked them up and down critically, exactly as if she were a parent grooming her children for their school pictures… “In a moment, I want you to put your arm around her, and say something into her ear. You look up at him and laugh. Then kiss her. A peck. Playful. Affectionate.”
“This is not a sitcom,” she snapped. “I am not going to mindlessly giggle and pucker on cue. We agreed to attend events and hold hands. Done and done.”
“No,” [her agent] said with barely leashed temper… “You agreed to foster a certain impression… Which is not being fulfilled by the two of you standing three feet apart, glowering at one another. Only the most diehard romantic and the clinically brain-dead would be seeing hearts and flowers.”
“And what words of wisdom did he offer?”
“He told me to grow a spine and get over it.”
That startled a laugh from Rachel. “He doesn’t beat around the bush, does he?”
“He bulldozes right over the bush.”
She stilled. “Your — what?”
His jaw worked as he looked down at her. “My…” Suddenly, he released her hands and cupped her face, bringing her up on her tiptoes and her mouth to his. His kiss was forceful and demanding… “Mine,” he said. “Just mine.”
Pulling back to take a much-needed breath, she rested her hands on his chest. “There’s a distinct scent of eau de caveman around here.”


"You want us to do a TV interview? About... this?" Lainie asked, horrified.
"Could you not gesture directly at me when you say that?" Richard asked."
"He brought up the page and was greeted with the image of his own scowling face. Jesus. he looked like his great-aunt Harriet. It was something about the combination of the frown and the emerging beard."
"It was more than that. He was... God, he was bonding with her.
Feelings - warm, strong, nauseating feelings - were springing up all over the place, unfurling in his chest, his gut, his groin. Sinking in deep with their little hooks."
"Tell me you want this. Me."
It was enlightening that she could be this far gone with desire yet still capable of irritation. "Richard." She braced herself against his stomach. "I'm prepared to stroke many things right now, but your ego is not one of them."
"As kisses went, it wouldn't make her personal top ten. For one thing, there was still an edge of temper under the surface, and angry snogging didn't really rev her engine the way it seemed to for vintage romance heroines."
"Cat Richard?" he asked, when they came to a halt behind a double-decker bus.
"My landlady's ginger tom." Lainie sounded too calm. He glanced at her. Yes, her eyes were full of laughter. "He's called Richard. I'm feeding him while she's away for a few days, and he has to have meals twice a day. Bowel issues."
This was actually his life."

















Give me strength. Or a blunt instrument.





Richard is not happy about it.
