Single mom Claire Abby is the glue that holds her dad and her college-bound daughter together, so when her journalism career takes a nosedive, she has to resuscitate it. Now the biggest interview of her life hinges on convincing a notoriously private man to spill his secrets. If only he wasn’t one of the sexiest guys ever…
Tall, square-jawed Brit Christopher Penman was Claire's celebrity crush when she was a teen. In person, he’s as she feared—unfairly handsome, utterly charming, and completely nerve wracking. Claire has no choice but to ask the tough questions, the ones he’s avoided for a decade, but Chris isn’t talking…he’s flirting.
Before Claire can get her head straight, an improbable friendship forms. Then there’s a kiss…and an invitation…and ultimately, nights Claire once only dreamed of. But as they grow closer, she learns that Chris’s pain runs deep. When his heartbreaking history repeats itself, will Claire risk her future—and her heart—to save her love with the man she could never forget?
Amazon peak rank was #103. US digital sales are 13,111 to date. Kindle Unlimited page reads have passed 2.5 million. Amazon acquired the audio rights in 2017 due to popularity of the book on Amazon.
There he sat, no more than ten yards away, reading the New York Times while wearing silvery sunglasses. I decided he must be napping because he didn’t strike me as the type to read the Times.
He wore an artfully distressed pair of jeans and a black t-shirt under a tan canvas jacket, much too light for such a cold day. His short, chestnut brown hair was arranged into a tousled mess.
I mulled over my best approach and then he confounded me a second time by looking up and making eye contact, through the sunglasses no less, folding his paper and striding toward me. I looked behind me assuming he must recognize someone else.
“You must be Ms. Abby.” He held out his hand. “Chris Penman.”
Countless thoughts and questions erupted in my head. Wow. I’m glad I wore heels. He’s tall. His accent is different in person. It’s like butter. British butter. Did I remember perfume this morning? Oh crap. My breath. Are my hands clammy? Why do they always get that way when I’m nervous?
“Yes. Oh, Claire.” I offered my sweaty hand. “Please. Thank you. Hi.” Cotton candy had graciously stepped in to take over for my saddled brain.
“Oh great, uh, it’s Claire then.” He cocked his head to the side. “Please, call me Chris. I Googled you this morning and found a photo. I like to know what I’m up against.” He chuckled, removed his sunglasses and shook my hand in one seamless movement.
I caught a glimpse of his eyes and everything turned syrupy. I began searching for words, an intelligent response, and it happened—I became tangled up in his eyes, drawn into them because my mind was convinced there was nowhere else to go. The color was so astounding it deserved its own name. Apple, forest, grass, jade, emerald, moss, clover—somewhere, there had to be a name for his green.
| Language | Status |
|---|---|
|
Italian
|
Already translated.
Translated by Tiziana Felici
|
|
Portuguese
|
Already translated.
Translated by Gabi Nascimento
|
|
Spanish
|
Already translated.
Translated by Florencia Olcese and Analía Ponce
|
