Well, hopefully. On my blog today, I have a little mm treat for you. You know what they say, never judge a book by its cover...
*smiles*
Judging
A Book By Its Cover by L.D. Blakeley
Available: October 22, 2014
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-77233-075-5
Available: October 22, 2014
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-77233-075-5
BLURB
Agonizingly shy Emory North has his life mapped out for him: finish his business degree, go to work for his father, and one day take over as CEO of North Star Publishing. More at home amongst stacks of books, Emory has little to no interest in his lot as ‘North Jr.’, but has never had the courage to follow his true passion—writing.
Agonizingly shy Emory North has his life mapped out for him: finish his business degree, go to work for his father, and one day take over as CEO of North Star Publishing. More at home amongst stacks of books, Emory has little to no interest in his lot as ‘North Jr.’, but has never had the courage to follow his true passion—writing.
Brash
and ballsy Bryce Palmer, editor-in-chief of ECLIPSE
magazine is known for bedding and discarding PAs like yesterday’s newspaper.
He’s up against a serious deadline and down two staff members. And the last
thing he has time for is babysitting the spoiled rich son of a CEO. But when
Pierce Barclay North insists now is the time for his heir apparent to get his
feet wet in the company waters, Palmer's hands are tied.
But
looks can be deceiving. And, sometimes, passion can spark in the most unlikely
of places...
EXCERPT
By 6:30 Monday morning, Emory sat at his desk nursing a steaming hot cup of strong, black coffee. It was far earlier than he should rightfully be at the office. But his internal monologue was making him crazy and he’d hoped work might, at least, distract him from the situation. Torn between anger — at Bryce for his wrongful intrusion — and mortification — also directed at Bryce (but more at himself) for that stolen kiss — Emory was fit to be tied. Did he confront Bryce about the email and risk his ire? Or should he avoid both subjects entirely? Emory knew his father would give him some variation of the I Assumed As Much speech, if Bryce were to fire him. Would he, though? Would Bryce fire him for last night’s indiscretion? He’d seemed well enough into it at first. So maybe Emory could call him out on the manuscript without risk of being upbraided like a child for the kiss — or worse, fired.
By 6:30 Monday morning, Emory sat at his desk nursing a steaming hot cup of strong, black coffee. It was far earlier than he should rightfully be at the office. But his internal monologue was making him crazy and he’d hoped work might, at least, distract him from the situation. Torn between anger — at Bryce for his wrongful intrusion — and mortification — also directed at Bryce (but more at himself) for that stolen kiss — Emory was fit to be tied. Did he confront Bryce about the email and risk his ire? Or should he avoid both subjects entirely? Emory knew his father would give him some variation of the I Assumed As Much speech, if Bryce were to fire him. Would he, though? Would Bryce fire him for last night’s indiscretion? He’d seemed well enough into it at first. So maybe Emory could call him out on the manuscript without risk of being upbraided like a child for the kiss — or worse, fired.
Before
he had time to become completely unhinged with his thoughts, they were
interrupted with the arrival of their main source of strife.
“Morning,”
was all Bryce muttered as he breezed past Emory’s desk and into his office.
Seriously?
That’s it? Emory
was at a complete loss. Now what? Act like nothing out of the ordinary happened
Friday and he hadn’t spent the entire weekend fretting? March into Bryce’s
office and demand an explanation for the email? Before he was able to decide
one way or the other, his phone lit up — Bryce’s extension.
“Emory
speaking,” he finally managed after picking up the phone and hesitantly clearing
his throat.
“I
should hope so — I did dial your number.”
“Oh,
um.”
Bryce
sighed and Emory was positive there had been an accompanying eye roll. “Are we
back to nervous monosyllables again?”
“No,
I…” Emory heard Bryce chuckle before he could manage to spit out the rest of
his sentence.
“Would
you please come into my office, Emory?” This was it. He was about to be tossed
out on his ass and onto a pile of jilted former PAs… and he hadn’t even managed
more than a drunken kiss!
“You
wanted to see me?” Emory stood in the doorway of Bryce’s office, not entirely
sure what to do or say. A million things came to mind: curse the man out for
taking his story; apologize for his behaviour after the gala; kiss him one more
time just to see if it was as scorching hot as he remembered. He chose none of
the above and timidly avoided eye contact.
“Would
you please come in?” Bryce appeared to be finishing up an email, his fingers
flying across his keyboard. “Shut the door behind you and have a seat.”
Emory
did as he was told and sat facing Bryce. Before he could change his mind, he
managed to muster up more temerity than he’d ever thought possible, and spat
out “I’msorryaboutFridaynight,” as though it were all one single word.
“Sorry
about… what, exactly?” Emory was surprised to see a smile on Bryce’s handsome
face.
“The
wine?” Emory started worrying at his thumbnail once again.
“I
didn’t mind the wine, to be quite honest. Made you much more… conversational.”
And didn’t that sound laced with… undertones. Emory could feel his face
burning.
“But
that wasn’t what I wanted to discuss.” And there it was. Emory braced
himself.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A pragmatist with a romantic soul & a dirty mind, L.D. is a fan of horror movies, hot sex, and Happily Ever Afters. Easily distracted by shiny things, she’s a slightly neurotic, highly ambitious dreamer who enjoys dabbling in photography & pretending she can carry a tune.
A pragmatist with a romantic soul & a dirty mind, L.D. is a fan of horror movies, hot sex, and Happily Ever Afters. Easily distracted by shiny things, she’s a slightly neurotic, highly ambitious dreamer who enjoys dabbling in photography & pretending she can carry a tune.
In
another life, L.D. was a newspaper reporter, an entertainment & music
writer, travel writer, website content editor, and a marketing shill. Now she
prefers to spend her time writing hot, steamy fiction (with a healthy dose of
romance) about intriguing, sexy men. Of course, whether these pretty boys end
up between the sheets with other gorgeous lads or up against a wall with a
spicy and spirited heroine, all depends on which direction her imagination
takes her on any given day.
Although
she dreams of living some place isolated with an endless supply of
wine and an infinite number of titles on her eReader, she
currently lives in down-town Toronto with her husband and their
rock star cat.
Thanks so much for hosting me and the lads, Doris!
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