As a billionaire, philanthropist, and the life of every party, I work hard and play harder—which occasionally gets me into trouble.
It wouldn’t be so bad if I weren’t the soon-to-be CEO of my family’s company. In order to appease my concerned parents, I agree to leave Manhattan and hide out until the media frenzy surrounding my latest mishap settles down.
Which is how I end up in a cabin in the woods with my best friend’s gorgeous little sister on her birthday.
I’m definitely not the gift Tessa’s expecting. We’ve never met before, but it’s clear she’s formed an opinion of me based on my playboy reputation—and it’s not a good one.
But we’re stuck here together.
At first, all we do is bicker, and it’s easy for me to remember all the reasons I shouldn’t touch her. But the more I get to know her, I’m surprised by how real and funny she is beneath her spunky exterior. Did I mention the woman can bake too?
Keeping my hands to myself becomes more torturous than my exile.
After all, having fun is what I’m good at. How can I resist showing her how to live a little?
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Excerpt:Exhaling, I let my hand fall away from the door, and I resume my position on my bed, back melting into a wall of pillows against the metal headboard and swoony book in hand.
Not five minutes later, the repeated drilling of a woodpecker into a tree outside my window grows louder and louder as I stare at the same word in my book, my eye twitching.
Slamming the paperback shut, I grunt and jump off the bed, then march toward the door. I yank it open and storm around the fireplace, my steps heavy with purpose and determination not to let this day be ruined by my parents’ absence, Carter’s annoying smirk, and Graham’s delayed arrival—which he has yet to call about.
When my gaze lands on Carter, though, I stop in my tracks, my aggravation caught in my throat. He sits on the couch, his legs sprawled open in front of him. A laptop is propped between them, and he types away on the keyboard, the light from the screen illuminating his face.
I push my glasses higher on my nose and tug on the hem of my sweater, suddenly squirmy.
This image in front of me is so different than the ones on the internet. The photos I found this morning show a party boy—a strong and powerful one, but a party boy, nonetheless.
Sharp suits and A-list friends ranging from Manhattan socialites to Hollywood superstars. Online, Carter’s the guy everyone wants to befriend, or sleep with.
But here, he’s sitting on a slightly worn couch in a hoodie and jeans, his eyes blue from the computer screen and concentration etched into his expression where his dimples should be. He’s still sitting with impeccable posture, exuding the power I assumed he would from the pictures, but he’s less intimidating.
He even seems… normal.
“Are you going to stare at me all evening, or do you care to join me?” He glances up, and his eyes resume their natural hazel color.
“I’m not staring. I…” I hold my head up. “My room’s not so quiet, so I’m going to read right here on the window seat, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Besides, this is your place.” He watches me, his expression and body language relaxed like he has the upper hand in some twisted game.
But I’m not interested in playing.
And I’m definitely not interested in him.
Georgia Coffman is a contemporary romance author with a Master’s in Professional Writing. She loves all things books, the TV show Friends, and jumpsuits. When she’s not reading, writing, or daydreaming, she and her husband enjoy working out and playing with their two pups.
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