Hale Wheeler inherited billions from his father. He’s decided to take those resources and change the world for the better. He’s married to his mission, so he doesn’t have time for love.
There’s more lurking behind this decision. He hasn’t faced the tragic loss of his father, or the bitterness of his parents’ divorce. He doesn’t intend to follow in his father’s footsteps, breaking a woman’s heart in a way it will never mend. So he vows he’ll never marry.
But Hale is intrigued when he meets Elsa Cohen, the ambitious celebrity news journalist who has been reporting on his famous family. He warns her off, but she makes him a deal. She’ll pull back in exchange for an exclusive interview.
Elsa Cohen is married to her career, but she wants love, marriage, children. She also wants the impossibly handsome, fiercely loyal, tenderhearted Hale Wheeler.
They go head-to-head, both denying why there are fireworks every time they meet. But once they understand their undeniable attraction, Elsa can’t help but fall for the dynamic do-gooder.
As for Hale, he knows he needs to fight the pull of the beautiful, bold, loving Elsa Cohen, because breaking her would crush him.
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Keep reading for a look inside Fighting the Pull!
The thing on my mind that I wasn’t admitting was taking more headspace than it should was the fact that Hale had texted the day before.
Why he wasn’t letting himself off the hook about this interview he never wanted in the first place, I did not know. And it wasn’t going to be me who let him off the hook. Oh no. Not officially.
But I wasn’t returning his texts, so unofficially, the guy should take a hint.
We’d made a deal almost a year before. The deal was, I’d kinda, sorta lay off his family, he’d give me an interview.
I couldn’t totally lay off his family. They were the most celebrated celebrities in the world. Even the ones who hadn’t sought that out, like Chloe Pierce and Judge Oakley.
But there were a great many different kinds of celebrity news, and it didn’t seem like Hale Wheeler had cottoned on to the fact I wasn’t a mudslinger.
Sure, I also wasn’t an objective journalist. But I wasn’t TMZ either.
Nugget of news: you could share gossip for a living and still be classy. I was proof of that (or I thought I was).
I had my key ready to put into the four locks on the door to the building where my studio was in Brooklyn, and with practiced ease, I was out of the New York autumn morning cold in no time.
I locked the door behind me and headed to the space in the sectioned off warehouse that I rented for my studio.
I had to unlock that door too (only three locks this time), and once inside, I practically ran into Chuck, my cameraman, who was for some reason right there and crowding me.
My space was small, but this was weird.
I looked at his face, and…great.
We’d probably been burgled.
It wasn’t like I had a ton of expensive equipment, but what I had was hard won. I had offers coming in, and they were healthier than I’d allowed myself to dream, but I hadn’t signed on any dotted line. So, for the foreseeable future, ongoing operating costs, and any expansion, was on me.
I didn’t have time to deal with police reports and insurance companies telling me how little they could actually replace seeing as some small line in their contract exempted them from doing what I paid them to do. Nor did I need to be shelling out to replace stuff.
“What’s up?” I warily asked Chuck.
“Hale Wheeler is here,” he whispered.
That was worse than being burgled.
My gaze flew beyond Chuck to my set which was a one-step dais on which sat a mint green velvet swivel chair with a glass-topped gold side table beside it. These were in front of a greenscreen backdrop we could make anything we wanted it to be. Though usually it was subtle pastel green and peach swirls against a soft white with the words “Elsa’s Exchange” repeated throughout.
And damn it all to hell, there he was.
Tall, ridiculously handsome, athletically built Hale Wheeler, the richest man in the world.