Jack Morrison is the rebellious black sheep of a mighty real estate family. He runs a nonprofit whose mission is to save poor people from evil corporations, like the one his own family owns. He is obnoxious, ridiculously charming, and insanely hot. He is the bane of Candace’s very existence.
Sparks fly from the moment they meet. Candace suddenly has more to worry about than keeping Jack out of jail. She has to keep him out of her heart.
He held his hand out to me. When I didn’t immediately take it, he wiggled his fingers. I relented and put my hand in his as I followed him onto the trail.
“Why are your hands calloused?” I asked.
“I use them a lot,” he explained. “I do projects at the apartment complex, help out some buddies working to renovate other buildings, stuff like that.”
“Figures.”
“Some women find a man that works with his hands to be sexy,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the inside of my wrist.
“And some women find a man in a suit sexy,” I retorted.
“Hmm. I bet I can guess which one you are, Candie.”
“Why do you call me Candie?”
“I like it. It suits you. And I like that I’m the only one who calls you that.”
“You’re not.”
He stopped on the path and cocked his head at me. “I’m not?”
“No. My dad calls me that. When you first did it, I thought maybe you knew him.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should stop then.”
For reasons I would probably never comprehend, I didn’t want him to. “Why?”
Suddenly, Jack pulled me into his arms and moved us both off the trail until my back was up against a giant tree. My head spun as I looked up at him, my breath shallow, my eyes wide.
“I don’t want you to think about your dad when you’re with me,” he said, lowering his head.
I put my hands on either side of his face. He was freshly shaven today, and his skin was deliciously smooth. “I don’t,” I told him.
“Why are your hands calloused?” I asked.
“I use them a lot,” he explained. “I do projects at the apartment complex, help out some buddies working to renovate other buildings, stuff like that.”
“Figures.”
“Some women find a man that works with his hands to be sexy,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the inside of my wrist.
“And some women find a man in a suit sexy,” I retorted.
“Hmm. I bet I can guess which one you are, Candie.”
“Why do you call me Candie?”
“I like it. It suits you. And I like that I’m the only one who calls you that.”
“You’re not.”
He stopped on the path and cocked his head at me. “I’m not?”
“No. My dad calls me that. When you first did it, I thought maybe you knew him.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should stop then.”
For reasons I would probably never comprehend, I didn’t want him to. “Why?”
Suddenly, Jack pulled me into his arms and moved us both off the trail until my back was up against a giant tree. My head spun as I looked up at him, my breath shallow, my eyes wide.
“I don’t want you to think about your dad when you’re with me,” he said, lowering his head.
I put my hands on either side of his face. He was freshly shaven today, and his skin was deliciously smooth. “I don’t,” I told him.
Kay grew up in the Midwest and has since lived all over the western United States including Montana, Wyoming, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, and California. She loves to hike, is obsessed with museums, and enjoys taking her extremely tall and very handsome husband on adventures.
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I enjoyed getting to know your book; congrats on that tour and I hope it is a fun one for you :)
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