Being rejected is one thing. Being rejected live on radio takes it to a whole new level!
After her on-air proposal is turned down by her commitment-phobe boyfriend, Georgia Stone must learn to survive singledom. Unfortunately, thanks to a clause in her contract, she has to do it under the watchful gaze of brooding radio producer Zander Rush.
And so begins the Year of Georgia! Lurching from salsa classes to spy school, Georgia discovers a taste for adventure. Her biggest thrill so far? Flirting with dangerâaka the enigmatic Zander. But admitting sheâs ready for more than just a flingâ¦? Definitely Georgiaâs scariest challenge yet!
Next month, look for the second book in this duet: The Guy To Be Seen With by Fiona Harper
HOW TO GET OVER YOUR EX
âWhy are we here, Zander?â she breathed into the fading light.
He stared at her in the rapidly cooling, darkening evening. âBecause you followed me up here?â
Half of her was terrified heâd just shrug and blame tradition. That this thing between them wasnât mutual. But she wasnât about to be put off so easily. âHere, by the twinkling water as the sun sets.â
âDo you want to leave?â he murmured, eyes locked on hers.
She should. âNo.â
âDo you want to feel?â
Her lungs locked up. Suddenly the grass and cows and water around them seemed to grow as if the two of them had just hauled themselves over the top of a beanstalk, forcing them closer together and making the scant distance separating them into something negligible.
Her pulse began to hammer in earnest.
Zander raised his hand and slipped it behind her head, lowering his forehead to rest on hers. His heat radiated outward. His eyes drifted shut.
ABOUT NIKKI LOGAN
Nikki Logan lives next to a string of protected wetlands in Western Australia, with her long-suffering partner and a menagerie of furred, feathered and scaly mates. She studied film and theater at university, and worked for years in advertising and film distribution before finally settling down in the wildlife industry. Her romance with nature goes way back, and she considers her life charmed, given she works with wildlife by day and writes fiction by nightâthe perfect way to combine her two loves. Nikki believes that the passion and risk of falling in love are perfectly mirrored in the danger and beauty of wild places. Every romance she writes contains an element of nature, and if readers catch a waft of rich earth or the spray of wild ocean between the pages, she knows her job is done.
ONE
Valentineâs Day 2012
Close. Please just close.
A dozen curious eyes followed Georgia Stone into Radio EROSâ stylish elevator, craning over computer monitors or sliding on plastic floor mats back into the corridor just slightly, not even trying to disguise their curiosity. She couldnât stand staring at the back of the elevator for ever, so she turned, lifted her chin...
...and silently begged the doors to close. To put her out of her misery for just a few blessed moments.
Do. Not. Cry.
Not yet.
The numbness of shock was rapidly wearing off and leaving the deep, awful ache of pain behind it. With a humiliation chaser. Sheâd managed to thank the dumbfounded drive-time announcersâGod, she was so Britishâbefore stumbling out of their studio, knowing that the radio stationâs output was broadcast in every office on every floor via a system of loudspeakers.
Hence all the badly disguised glances.
The whole place knew what had just happened to her. Because of her. That their much-lauded Leap Year Valentineâs proposal had just gone spectacularly, horribly, excruciatingly, publicly wrong.
Sheâd asked. Daniel had declined.
As nicely as he could, under the circumstances, but his urgently whispered, âIs this a joke, George?â was still a no whichever way you looked at it and, in case she hadnât got the message, heâd spelled it out.
We werenât heading for marriage. I thought you knew that...
Actually no, or she wouldnât have asked.
Thatâs what made our thing so perfect...
Oh. Right. That was what made it perfect? Sheâd known they were drifting in a slow, connected eddy like the leaves in Wakehurstâs Black Pond but sheâd thought that even drifting eventually got you somewhere. Obviously not.
âFor Godâs sake, will you close?â
She wasnât usually one to talk to inanimate objectsâeven under her breathâbut somehow, on some level, the elevator must have heard her because its shiny chrome doors started to slide together obligingly.
âHold the lift!â a voice shouted.
She didnât move. Her stomach plunged. Just as theyâd nearly closed...
A hand slid into the sliver of space between the doors and curled around one of them, arresting and then reversing its slide. They reopened, long-suffering and apologetic.