Publication Date March 25th 2013
Psychotherapist Maggie Collins has always been a little off the proverbial wall, but now she’s also knee deep in a delayed quarter-life crisis. With her meager paychecks devoured by student loan debt, a car payment and rent for office space, living at home with a flighty, folk-singing mother seemed like a good idea…at first. Now Maggie’s not so sure. She wants space to sort things out and launch a life of her own, but she needs a cushion of cash to get there. When an unexpected phone call brings an offer Maggie can’t refuse, she’s one deal with the devil away from moving out of her mother’s house. The devil of contract negotiations, baseball agent Jordon Kemmons, has a problem the usual experts can’t fix…his star pitcher is too depressed to throw strikes. Even worse, Jordon’s post-divorce grudge against women is turning him into a raging mess. If desperate times call for desperate measures, then cynical Jordon has made the most desperate move of all. He’s hoping sexy psychotherapist Maggie Collins is the answer to all his rusty prayers. Soon Maggie and Jordon are fighting an attraction that threatens everything they’ve ever believed. If it’s not just physical attraction…if it’s something more, maybe two wrongs can make a right.
“The other thing? You mean the sex. I’m transferring feelings of love to you from my childhood because we have hot, sweaty sex—the best sex I’ve ever had?” The woman dropped the tube, and Jordon walked toward her. “Let me get that for you, ma’am.” He bent down, and handed the toothpaste to the gaping woman, who wandered aimlessly down the aisle until she disappeared, forgetting her cart. “That was uncalled for.” Maggie shook her head and bit back a laugh. Jordon didn’t stop at the end of the cart. He came around and grabbed her by the hips. “We’re done with this conversation. I’m not going to let you push me away because of your misguided notions and over analysis.”
Her mouth opened at his absurd insults. Before she could say a word, his fingers rested on her chin and he closed her jaw.
“Maggie, transference is bull shit. Freud was a flake. You shrinks like to wield power over weak-minded patients. I’m not weak, and I’m not your patient.” He slid his thumb across her bottom lip. “I do…feel exactly the way I said I do, but I won’t say it again until I’m damn sure you’re going to say it back. Until then, keep your shrink wrap away from my head. There’s enough going on in there without you digging around.” Despite the hypnotic sensation of his thumb stroking her lip, she couldn’t keep quiet anymore. “I find you offensive.”
“No you don’t.” Jordon leaned his face closer, and she swallowed. Her tongue reflexively brushed over her lip, tasting the tip of his thumb. He stepped into her, and she swallowed again, knowing his mouth would be covering hers in the middle of a busy supermarket. But the minute his arm wound around her waist, she didn’t care where they were. She wanted him to take what he wanted and leave her begging for more. He stopped inches from her mouth, his smiling eyes locked with hers. “Not here. This is not an appropriate place.” Her jaw dropped again. “That’s what I said.”
Lifting his head, Jordon set his broad shoulders. “Bread aisle. I need rolls.”
Maggie gripped the cart with shaking hands. “You need a lobotomy. Something is not right with you.” Her heart was racing. She didn’t know whether to push the cart away as fast as she could or grab a handful of dental floss and pitch it at his gorgeous, gloating face. “What?” He feigned innocence. His eyes wide, his brows high on his head. He even had the audacity to shrug and lift his palms. “What did I do?” Trying to steady her breath, Maggie clamped her teeth together before she spoke. “Your negotiation tactics are suspect.” He winked. “Never. Now move your cute little ass to the bread aisle because next time, I’ll make you beg with more than your eyes.”
Elley is offering a bracelet (picture is attached) that was made for her book. She is offering this through the $50 Amazon Gift Card.
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Elley Arden is a born and bred Pennsylvanian who has lived as far west as Utah and as far north as Wisconsin. She drinks wine like it’s water (a slight exaggeration), prefers a night at the ballpark to a night on the town, and believes almond English toffee is the key to happiness. Elley has been reading romance novels since she was a sixteen-year-old babysitter, sneaking Judith McNaught and Danielle Steele novels off the bookshelves of the women who employed her. She started her first manuscript when she was twenty-five, writing during babies’ naps. A total of three children and ten years later, the manuscript was complete. Little did she know, her journey to publication was only beginning…
Elley writes provocative contemporary romances for Crimson Romance