One single dad.
One set of twins.
And the wall isn’t the only thing being drilled…
I learned the hard way that being a handywoman isn’t easy. The questions, the stares—the assumption I’m the proud owner of a cock and balls. Not that it matters. I’ve proven over and over that I’m ready for anything the judgmental asses throw at me.
Except the hot, single dad of twins who just moved to town.
Brantley Cooper gets the shock of his life when I show up on his doorstep to fix up his kids’ new rooms. His son is confused why ‘the pretty lady has a drill,’ and his daughter has a new obsession—me.
On paper, my job is easy. Go in, do their bedrooms, and leave.
In theory, I’m spending eight hours a day with a guarded, sexy as hell guy, and I’m staying for dinner more often than I’m eating it alone, on my couch, with Friends re-runs.
I shouldn’t be staying for dinner. I shouldn’t be helping him out with the twins. I shouldn’t be falling in love with tiny toes and dimpled cheeks.
And I most definitely should not be kissing my client.
“Deal with it,” I echoed, my mouth dry. “What exactly do you mean by that?” He glanced at my mouth.“Okay, but, um, here’s the thing.” I couldn’t breathe. I sounded like a panting idiot trying to get the words out between each short, sharp breath I took. “This,” I motioned between us, “is bad.” “Bad.” His lips tugged to the side. “Yes. Because,”—help. Someone help—“because this isn’t allowed. Company rules. No cavorting with clients.” “No cavorting with clients.” That half-smile turned into a full-blown grin. “That’s very…proper.” “Well, I can’t exactly put, “No sleeping with the clients” now, can I?” “You could have, but it would have been unfortunately precise.” “I should change that.” “I disagree.” I licked my lips. “You should agree. Because this is—” “Bad. You said.” More lip twitching. “I thought you were sorry you made it awkward by kissing me.” “That was before I found out you were attracted to me. Now, I’m a lot less sorry I kissed you.” Oh. Well. Fair enough. “Should I take back my acceptance of your apology?” I asked. “You should stop talking and see how you feel when I’ve kissed you again.”
By day, New York Times and USA Today bestselling New Adult author Emma Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of whatever she fancies—usually wine—and writes books. Emma is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot scenes, and a whole lotta love. She likes to be busy—unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that seems to be when all the ideas come to life.
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