COMING FRIDAY 7 pm PST. TIFFANY N. YORK AUTHOR OF: THE ACCIDENTAL COUGAR (SEE EXCERPTS)
7 pm PST.
TIFFANY N. YORK
Forty-one-year-old Nicole Woods was content raising her son alone, working as an ad exec, and indulging in the more than occasional cleaning frenzy…until the night she met Wil Blanco.
Her friends have decided that while her son is away for six weeks, it’s the perfect opportunity for Nicole to have a summer fling. Heading the top of the list is Wil — sexy, successful, full of life…and twenty-five! Regretfully, Nicole declares him “hands-off,” but soon he’s complicating everything, from her job at the advertising agency to her self-imposed ban on relationships.
When Wil becomes her top client, she has even more reason to adhere to her “hands-off” policy. So why is Nicole finding it so hard to keep her hands off him?
“Come on Nicole, you can’t sit here and honestly tell me you have not thought about that kiss?”
Before she could answer, the waitress placed Nicole’s chicken fettuccini in front of her. She bent over more than was necessary to put Wil’s bacon cheddar cheeseburger in front of him, allowing him a generous view of her ample cleavage. “Let me know if there’s anything more you need,” she told him.
“Oh brother. Is it like this everywhere you go?” Nicole said.
Nicole waved the question away and dug into her pasta. Wil waited until she chewed and swallowed. “You still haven’t answered me about the kiss,” he said.
“What do you want me to say? Yes, I’ve thought about that kiss. Happy now?”
“Very,” he said and shoved three fries into his mouth.
“But let’s get one thing straight.” She pointed her fork at him for emphasis. “I do not mix business with pleasure. It’s unprofessional, not to mention that I can’t afford to lose my job. I have a son to support. If we’re going to work together, it’s to be just that—working together.”
The wheels began to turn in his head as he considered what she’d said. He took a big bite of his burger and chewed thoughtfully, followed by a long drink of soda.
“Let’s get this straight, Ms. Account Executive,” he finally said. “I work in a somewhat unorthodox way and I’ll expect you to accommodate me. I need to be hands-on with the entire process of coming up with a successful ad campaign. I can’t always express my concepts verbally, which makes it difficult for me to work with a lot of people. That’s why I prefer working one-to-one with someone I trust; one who doesn’t resent my need to be involved with the details. If you don’t like my terms, then you can walk away from this account.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “What do you consider unorthodox?”
“Our meetings will not always be during business hours or in business settings.”
Nicole seemed to be trying to wrap her mind around this concept when their waitress approached the table. “Can I get you anything else? Some dessert, perhaps?”
“No, thank you,” she answered, as Wil said, “Chocolate mousse. Two spoons.”
Nicole leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “So, where will our meetings be, Wil? At night, in your bedroom?”
He smiled. “Don’t put ideas in my head.” When he saw she wasn’t sharing in his amusement he explained, “Look, I do my best work after one in the afternoon and I don’t particularly like office settings.”
A large cup of chocolate mousse was placed between them. Wil grabbed a spoon and dug in. “This is amazing. Have a bite.” Nicole shook her head. “One bite won’t kill you,” he said, as he held a spoonful in front of her mouth.
She opened wide, and as the spoon entered her mouth, she moaned with pleasure. Wil’s jaw tightened as he withdrew the spoon.
“You’re right. It’s good,” she mumbled, clearly embarrassed.
Wil abruptly signaled their waitress for the check. Patience wasn’t one of his strong suits when he wanted something, nor was waiting for an answer.
“Either you agree to work within my parameters, Nicole, or you don’t. I can easily find another agency to work with me, but if I were you, I’d consider the fact that your boss wants this account very much. He’d be disappointed that you couldn’t land it.”
He watched her closely and knew she was weighing the pros and cons. His account would be bigger than any her agency had handled before. Nicole would have to be in very close contact with him. He guessed it was this very fact that was causing her to hesitate. Wil took it as a promising sign. If she had no feelings for him whatsoever, it’d be a snap for her to decide. At least that’s what his gut told him. Still, he held his breath waiting for her answer.
Finally, she gave him her best professional smile and said, “I would welcome the opportunity to work with you, Wil, as long as you remember our relationship is strictly business.”
He let out a sigh of relief.
“I don’t mix business with pleasure,” she said for the second time.
The only part Wil heard was pleasure.
Cara Manzoni flees Bensonhurst, Brooklyn to the Jersey Shore after catching her fiancé cheating with her hairdresser. Problem is she has no clothes, no money, and no place to go. This is not where she thought she’d be at almost thirty years old.
Ryan Garridy is a diehard commitment-phobe, struggling to keep his Italian restaurant afloat. The last thing he wants is a high-maintenance woman in his life. So, when Cara runs out on her check and then faints at his feet the next day, he knows this woman is trouble with a capital T. It still doesn’t stop him from offering Cara a job and a place to stay. There’s something feisty and compelling about her, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to say no to her. Or her Sicilian meatballs.
Since Cara has sworn off men, it’s no big deal that Ryan is sexy and charming—until she decides the only way to stop obsessing over her ex is to obsess over someone new. Ryan makes her forget about her ex a little too well, but falling for him could set her up for a whole new world of hurt.
If the undeniable passion between these two doesn’t keep them together, the mouth-watering food will. One man, one woman, both wounded by love. Will they be able to overcome their demons and learn to trust again?
“I’m a fabulous cocktail waitress,” she bragged. “You won’t be sorry. I know every drink in existence. Honestly, it’s like I have a photographic memory when it comes to ingredients.”
Ryan didn’t answer her. He sat there shell-shocked.
“I can’t. I’ve lost all power of speech.”
“You’re not regretting your decision to let me stay, are you?”
“It’s just … ” His voice trailed off. He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m trying to remember whether I’ve ever helped out a woman I wasn’t sleeping with.”
“If you think I’m going to sleep with you … ”
“No! Jesus, that’d be a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Are you saying sleeping with me would be a disaster?”
“Absolutely!” He caught the deadly look she shot him and quickly said, “I mean, absolutely not!”
Cara shrugged. “It doesn’t matter either way because I’ve sworn off all men. As far as I’m concerned, they’re all mangy dogs. Except you, of course,” she amended.
Ryan stood up and headed for the door. “No, I’m one, as well. If I weren’t, I would have told you five minutes ago your robe was open,” he tossed back.
Tiffany N. York lives in SoCal with her spirited son, diva Chihuahua, an ever-changing number of cats, one screeching parakeet, and now the latest addition, Destructo Bunny. She writes romance to escape reality. You can find her on
Facebook at: www.facebook.com/tiffanynyorkauthor
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