Are you reading the Kings Grove Series? (If not, why not?? I feel like I don’t even know you anymore!)
Well, never fear. Every book in this series is a standalone, and you can hop in anywhere. The next release will be June 26, and it’s Chance Palmer’s book… He’s the sexy construction firm mogul with the smoldering eyes and the most eligible bachelor in Kings Grove, and RIGHT NOW his book is only 99 cents!
Here’s an exclusive preview of Chance’s story:
Setup: Chance has met the heroine, and she was. not. impressed. (But she’s got her own stuff going on…) Here he strategizes with his brother how to re-engage…
“What’s wrong, poopy pants?” Sam stuck his head around the frame of the office door, peering in with mock concern on his face.
“The McLaren deal. Died before it even got started.” I hated losing, and Michaela Grayson really hadn’t even given me a chance to pitch her properly.
Sam stepped into my office and I leaned back in my desk chair, forcing a long groan from the springs that was almost as morose as I was feeling. “It’s just business, Chance.” My brother shrugged irritatingly, and I thought—not for the first time—the new and improved Sam Palmer was annoyingly upbeat since Miranda George had accepted his proposal last summer.
“Well, in case you forgot, ‘just business’ is how we afford our easy lifestyles up here, little bro. And I’m the one who’s supposed to be bringing it in.”
Sam crossed his arms and sighed. “We’ve got plenty of work in the next year, Chance. One deal won’t kill us.”
“It was a big one.” I could feel myself pouting and I knew I shouldn’t let the loss of the McLaren Resort bother me so much, but it did and I couldn’t figure out exactly why. I suspected it had something to do with the tall leggy brunette who represented the deal. She’d been the first woman I’d met in a long time who seemed too preoccupied to be charmed. I realized I’d been using charm in place of strategy for a while. I didn’t like admitting failure, but this was clearly not a win.
“So don’t give up so easily,” Sam said. “The guy clearly just needs another dose of your—”
“Wasn’t a guy,” I interrupted.
“Mike’s a girl. A woman.”
Sam made a face I recognized from childhood—the one that preceded a statement like, “you’re a stupid head” usually. “Mike is a guy’s name, loser.”
“And Michaela is a woman’s name.” I stood and pushed the chair back behind me, making it squeal again. “Trust me. I just met her. She’s not a guy.”
One of Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he whistled long and low. “A woman who didn’t lay down at your feet, huh? Didn’t know they still made those.”
“Shut it.” I walked around my desk to the bulletin board where I’d pinned Sam’s drawings for the McLaren Resort–our vision for the future of the Inn. I hadn’t had a chance to show these to Michaela because she’d run off so quickly. The lines were elegant and clean, the entire structure was high end, glamorous.
At my shoulder, Sam said, “What’d she think of this?” I could hear the pride in his voice as he looked at his drawing. My brother was more of an artist than an architect, though he did a fairly good job at both endeavors.
“Didn’t even see it.” I was staring at the drawing, trying to see it through Michaela’s eyes, when a thought came to me. “You know what?” I turned to my brother, and he gave me a skeptical look, his eyes narrowing and his arms crossing again. “Can you do another version? More rustic but still luxurious? Maybe soften some of the lines here, blend it into the environment more?”
Sam was trying to look annoyed about me directing him to revisit something he’d already finished, but I could see the ideas beginning to churn in his head as I spoke.
“I think my original idea might have been off—maybe we don’t need something that stands out so much as something that fits perfectly, but still offers a level of comfort and pampering you can’t get here now.”
“You gonna set up another meeting with McLaren?” Sam was still gazing at the drawings before us.
I nodded and raked a hand through the hair that was always falling on my forehead. “Or maybe I’ll just drop in.”
“Turn on the Palmer charm,” Sam smiled.
I punched him in the shoulder. “You mean the Chance Palmer charm. You’ve got about as much charm as a bulldozer.”
“I’m charming. Ask Miranda.” He rubbed his shoulder and then threw a surprise jab, turning to face me and catching me in the pec.
My hands went up reflexively and suddenly I was twelve again, sparring with my little brother. I had no idea why he kept volunteering for me to beat the crap out of him, but I didn’t want to disappoint the guy. “Miranda tolerates you. At best.” I threw a combo at him, and caught him open, landing a punch in his stomach.
Sam bent forward and I thought I’d won, but he surprised me by popping right back up with an uppercut that got me in the ribs because I’d let my guard down. “Hey!” I bellowed. It was on now. I was going to end this thing sitting on Sam’s chest and pinning his arms to the ground while I noogied him to within an inch of his life.
We threw punches, circling and grunting, both of us sweating and swearing as the play fight escalated. Sam had just struck another good blow in my side when the front door of the office swung open and Miranda stepped in, pulling his attention. I leapt forward and circled his neck with my arm, pulling his head to my chest and finally delivering the victory noogie. As I pressed my knuckles into my brother’s scalp, I called out, “Hey Miranda, how’s it going?”
“Damn it,” Sam howled from his muffled position against my chest.
“Would you guys knock it off?” Miranda said, shooting me an irritated glance. “I thought you promised no more wrestling in the office after you broke my monitor last time?”
That had been an honest accident. An expensive one, though. I gave Sam one more good rub and let him go, stepping quickly out of his reach. “Sorry, Mom,” I said, grinning.
Sam was huffing with irritation and rubbing his hands through his hair, shooting me hard looks. Still, he said to Miranda, “We promised no wrestling. This was boxing.” He straightened up and turned to face her.
Though she was trying to look annoyed, I watched her face change as she took in my little brother’s rumpled shirt and red face. Even at his worst, you could see her admiration and affection for him. Her features softened and she smiled, and I could see the beauty that Sam had always recognized in her. I turned away as she smoothed his hair and kissed him, pushing down a tight ball that had formed in my gut. “No fighting,” she clarified. “Okay Chance?” Her voice rose in volume and I knew she was looking past Sam for my agreement.
“He started it,” I said, unable to stop myself from reverting to the twelve-year old I’d once been. “Anyway, we have business to attend to. Sam is going to draw me another resort.”
“I’ll get to it,” he said, sounding annoyed now.
“Get to it now. I want to show it to her tomorrow.”
Sam sighed, “There are other things to be done around here, you know.”
“The McLaren Resort?” Miranda asked, her voice brightening. “Did we get it?”
“No,” Sam told her. “Chance didn’t manage to charm the rep, even though it was a woman. I think it’s a first for him.”
Miranda turned to look at me, and actual astonishment colored her features. “What happened?”
Seriously? I was being called to the carpet for not being charming enough? “She was distracted. I’m going to get another meeting. I’ll charm her this time, but I need the new drawings first. Might actually have to sell a little, too.”
“Get to work, Sam,” Miranda said, clapping her hands in front of her chest. “I’m dying to do the interiors on that one. You’ve got to sell them.” She shooed Sam from the lobby and into his office, pushing his back lightly and trilling, “go, go, go.” I was glad Miranda was on my side. She was a force to be reckoned with.
“Thank you,” I called out.
“I’ll have ‘em for you tomorrow,” Sam called back. “And you can go reengage. Practice your charm between now and then. Sounds like you’re rusty.”