I just saw this very nice review for The Bachelor's Baby:
http://thereadingruth.blogspot.ca/2015/02/arc-review-bachelors-baby-montana-born.html
And I now realize I haven't introduced you to Linc & Meg. Meg is the sister of Blake from Blame the Mistletoe and Linc is Bachelor #3 in the new series from Montana Born. Say Hi Linc.
Deadpan stare.
Linc is not thrilled to be part of this charity event. Meg tricked him into it, but as he's been told repeatedly, It's a good cause.
He's a man of his word, so he's showing up on time for the event, March 6th. Here's the blurb and an excerpt:
http://thereadingruth.blogspot.ca/2015/02/arc-review-bachelors-baby-montana-born.html
Deadpan stare.
Linc is not thrilled to be part of this charity event. Meg tricked him into it, but as he's been told repeatedly, It's a good cause.
He's a man of his word, so he's showing up on time for the event, March 6th. Here's the blurb and an excerpt:
The Bachelor's Baby:
Your date with Bachelor #3 includes champagne and chocolate in the
limo that collects you, a helicopter tour or Marietta and the surrounding
mountains and valleys, and dinner at a five star restaurant in Great Falls.
While oil baron Linc Brady wines and dines you, a maid service will completely
clean your home.
Who could resist this tempting offer? Meg Canon plans to do just that.
She’s only home to clean out her childhood bedroom for her brother’s new step-daughter,
then she’s outta her childhood small town and back to her life in Chicago. Then
she meets the sexy, renegade millionaire while she’s stuck in the snow. Sparks
fly and Meg is tempted to stay a little longer.
Linc Brady is new in town and happy to help a kid in need, but a
bachelor auction? Technically he doesn’t owe Meg a damned thing after she sets
him up for the auction, then bids on him, but her high-class city polish is his
fatal weakness and makes her impossible to forget. When she agrees to come home
with him, he makes it clear he’s a confirmed bachelor. This is a one-night
thing.
One night that turns into nine months and maybe…a lifetime?
Excerpt:
“Not funny,” a
male voice growled behind her as Meg reached for a small box off a shelf in the
hardware store.
Linc’s voice
really was a turn on, all heavy and faintly abrasive, yet warm and rounded.
Like good scotch, or an heirloom quilt.
He’d still been
talking to Lily when Meg had left the grocery store, his neck red, his scowl a
firmly fixed mask.
Meg didn’t know
Lily that well, but had met her through Andie Bennet, who was made of awesome.
She trusted Andie’s judgment, even though Lily was rumored to have been a
stripper in another life and had only been in town a few years. Meg hadn’t
lived here full-time since leaving for college and took all such gossip with a
grain of salt.
Besides,
despite Lily’s sometimes acerbic sense of humor, she struck Meg as the biggest
heart of gold walking, especially given the fundraiser she was spearheading for
Molly Dekker. Molly was another sweetheart—a kindergarten teacher and single
mom whose only son had been injured last fall. Meg had genuinely wanted to help
once she heard what Lily was trying to do for Molly.
The fact it had
allowed her to lob another snowball in Linc’s direction was icing on the cake.
“What do you
mean?” Meg asked with an innocent glance at him that actually made her heart
skip as she took in his folded arms and planted feet. He was genuinely mad.
She cleared her
throat and made herself face him, even though her blood stung a warning through
her veins. At the same time, the worst of her girlish hormones fluttered,
filling her with nervous excitement and giddy warmth.
“Why did you
set that woman on me?” he asked.
“Lily? She
asked me about Blake. She was disappointed to hear he’s engaged. She asked if I
could think of any other eligible bachelors in town. I said I had just met a
perfect one-date wonder.” Blink. Blink. Blink.
These baby
blues had pulled Meg from basement cable interviews of small time activists to
a relief position with a syndicated station. She wasn’t afraid to use them.
Linc was really
tall. And had perfected his glower of intimidation. She privately admitted he
worked that like a hot damn, but she’d made a career for herself in what was
still a world heavily seeded to men. Outwardly, she didn’t falter.
“Can you tell
me if these are self-screwing?” She held up the box in her hand.
His scruffed
beard seemed to bristle as his jaw hardened. “Oh, you’ve got a handful of screw
yourself,” he assured her.
She swallowed
back a laugh, pretty sure that would get her into more trouble than she already
stood in. Instead, she turned the box over in her hands. She hadn’t had this
much fun in ages. “Maybe one nail would be simpler?”
“Why are you so
angry?” he demanded.
“I’m not, I’m
really not,” she insisted. “I think it’s funny.”
“You think
tricking me into standing on a stage and have women bid on me like a stud bull
is funny?”
“I didn’t think
you’d agree,” she defended. “It was an impulse to mention you, since you walked
right by us and you’re, I assume, single?”
He narrowed his
eyes.
Seriously? He
didn’t see the humor in this?
“Look, I
just...” She couldn’t explain it. Not without getting into how she’d let go of
something today. Found herself again. She felt cheerful and sassy. She wanted
to flirt. He drew her.
But she’d made
him mad.
“Come on,” she
cajoled. “It’s not my fault you didn’t say no. It’s a good cause,” she tried.
“You don’t even
know me.”
She had to look
away. Her cheeks began to sting. She suddenly felt very gauche and juvenile.
Rejection was always a tough one for her and all she’d wanted was to keep
playing with him. Now he hated her.
“I’m out of
practice,” she allowed quietly, genuinely sorry. “Honestly, I didn’t mean
anything by it.”
“Practice?” he
repeated. “Doing what?”
Seriously? She lifted a gaze that let him see how
uncomfortable she was, while scolding him for being obtuse.
He let out a
choke of disbelieving laughter. “This is you trying to get a man’s attention?
Are you twelve?”
She looked
away, frowning, trying to hide that her eyes began to burn along with the back
of her throat. Pointing Lily at him had been meant in fun, but it was becoming
personal and hurtful. She felt twelve. Hell, she felt seven, realizing for the
first time what it really meant to be adopted: that your ‘real’ mom and dad
hadn’t wanted you.
“Look—” she
started to say, ready to apologize, but only saw his back. He was walking away.
~ * ~
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