HarperImpulse an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013
Copyright © Vonnie Davis 2013
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Cover layout design © HarperCollâinsPublishers Ltd 2013
Cover design by HarperCollâinsPublishers Ltd
Vonnie Davis asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
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Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.
Ebook Edition © November 2015 ISBN: 9780007555314
Version 2015-11-26
'This is the first book Iâve read by Vonnie Davis and I can assure you it wonât be the last'
Harlequin Junkie
'A fun and frivolous festive romance'
Book Chick City
'A lovely, sweet, funny, sexy story. Perfect holiday read.'
Sizzling Pages Romance Reviews
'A sexy, feel good romance'
Jane Hunt Writer Reviews
'Ms. Davis has a way with the pen and I look forward to reading WAY more books from her!'
More Books Please
'A mega entertaining, sexy romance!'
Reading Between the Wines Book Club
To my awesome critique partners, AJ Nuest and Rachel Brimble, fabulous authors who point out when Iâve used the same phrase three times on the same page and remind me a participle looks nasty when it dangles. Thanks for your patience, my darlings.
My new neighbor is a man-whore.
Becca Sinclair peered through the window of her townhouse, her fingertips flying over the keyboard. This new post on her âThe Things Men Doâ blog would definitely entertain her twelve hundred followers. Comments would amass and maybe, if she were lucky, sheâd increase her audience.
Marshall, her editor at the Clearwater Daily, had dangled the incentive of giving her a weekly column, but only if she secured fifteen hundred followers. The poor schmuck had no idea how determined she was. Or how much women loved reading her comical, often snarky, take on the male gender.
With her desk positioned in front of the bay window in her living room, she had a great view of the goings-on in her neighborhood. This secluded vantage point had birthed many well-read posts. She raised her tiny espresso cup to her lips, inhaled its strong aroma as she sipped and read over her first paragraph on the screen.
About an hour ago, a brunette showed up at his front door carrying a box of Krispy Kremes. Just now, a blonde parked her red car behind the silver compact of woman number one. Before woman number twoâs stilettos hit the pavement, shirtless man-whore jogged out of his townhouse to greet her, no doubt in an attempt to head her off at the pass. Pardon the cliché, sistahs, but men ARE so clichéd, are they not?
Beccaâs gaze swept from her monitor to her neighbor and the blonde talking on the sidewalk. Man-whore must lift weights in his sleep to get a build like that. How hard would his muscles feel if she ran her hands over them? Dismissing her thought with an eye roll, she allowed her perusal to continue. Like most Floridians, he had a deep tan which, when combined with his sculptured muscles, presented a very potent male package. If she were one to notice, which she was not.
His hair was dark and straight, brushing his shoulders. When he turned, revealing his chest, there was a very nice treasure trail leading to jeans riding low on his hips. The two people moved and Becca began typing again.
The blonde gushed as she handed him a foil-covered pan. My randy neighbor peeled back the cover, swiped a finger over whatever sheâd made and stuck his digit in his mouth. With the pan tucked to his muscled chest like a football, he deigned to give her a hug before she drove off.
By the time he turned and walked to his front door, heâd eaten two pastries. Evidently heâs a man-whore with a huge appetite.