SHE’S GOT CURB APPEAL. HE’S A FIXER UPPER...
From New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting comes I Flipping Love You, a love story about flipping houses, taking risks, and landing that special someone who’s move-in ready.
Rian Sutter grew up with the finer things in life. Spending summers in the Hamptons was a normal occurrence for her until her parents lost everything years ago. Now Rian and her sister are getting their life, and finances, back on track through real estate. Not only do they buy and sell houses to the rich and famous but they finally have the capital to flip their very own beachfront property. But when she catches the attention of a sexy stranger who snaps up every house from under her, all bets are off…
Pierce Whitfield doesn’t normally demo kitchens, install dry wall, or tear apart a beautiful woman’s dreams. He’s just a down-on-his-luck lawyer who needed a break from the city and agreed to help his brother work on a few homes in the Hamptons. When he first meets Rian, the attraction is undeniable. But when they start competing for the same pieces of prime real estate, the early sparks turn into full-blown fireworks. Can these passionate rivals turn up the heat on their budding romance—without burning down the house?
“Fun, sexy, and full of heart…Helena Hunting has done it again!”—USA Today bestselling author Melanie Harlow (on Shacking Up)
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Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
ANGRY HOT GUY
RIAN
I flip through my stack of flyers, checking for
a sale on the jumbo box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal so I can price match
it. I’m a conscientious price matcher. I mark the sale with a big circle before
tucking the red Sharpie into the front of my shirt. If I’m going to wheel and
deal at the cash register, I want to make it as easy as possible for the
cashier and the people in line behind me. Nothing is worse than getting stuck
behind an unorganized price matcher.
I shimmy a little to the song playing over the
store intercom as I toss boxes of my most favorite, unhealthy cereal in my
cart. A prickly feeling climbs the back of my neck, and I shiver, glancing over
my shoulder. A mom rushes past me down the aisle, her toddler leaning
precariously out of the cart in an attempt to grab a box of Fruit Roll-Ups. I
can’t blame him. They are artificially delicious.
But the mom-toddler combo isn’t the reason for
the prickly feeling. Halfway down the aisle is a suit. A big suit. Well over
six feet of man wrapped in expensive charcoal-gray fabric. He doesn’t have a
cart or a basket. And he’s staring at me. Weird. I can’t look at him long
enough to decide if he’s familiar or not without making it obvious that I’m
staring back.
I have the urge to check my appearance, worried
I have his attention because my hair is a mess, or there’s a sweat stain down
the center of my back. I’m not particularly appealing at the moment. I’ve just
come from a boot camp class at this new gym my twin sister forced me to try
out.
Marley bought an online two-for-one coupon for
forty bucks, so now I have to attend six of these stupid classes with her. I
managed to get out of last week’s class, but she wouldn’t let me escape two
weeks in a row. My tank is still dewy, post-exertion, I have terrible
under-boob sweat, and my thong is all wonky. If I were alone in this aisle, I’d
for sure fix the last issue, but suit guy is here so I must leave the thong
where it is for now, wedged uncomfortably between my vagina lips.
The suit quickly shifts his attention to the
shelves and picks up the jar directly in front of him, which happens to contain
prunes. He inspects it, then maybe realizes what it is, because he rushes to
return it, exchanging it for another item. I bite back a smile, pleased that
even in my disgusting state I’m being checked out.
As suit man gives the shelf in front of him his
full attention, I return the checkout favor. His attire and his posture scream
money and a twinge of something like longing combined with jealousy makes my
throat momentarily tight. At one time, price matching was a practice I would’ve
laughed at—like an entitled jerk—now it’s a necessity.
Suit man must be warm, considering it’s late
April and we’re experiencing temperatures far above average for this time of
year. Based on the tapered fit of his suit, I’m guessing it’s a high-end brand.
He’s complemented it with black patent leather shoes. Very impractical for this
weather and location. Does he realize he’s in the Hamptons?
He’s wearing a watch, and from his profile, he
can’t be much beyond his early thirties. I have to assume the only reason for
the watch is because it’s expensive and he wants to show it off. In my head,
I’ve already profiled him as a pretentious, rich prick who probably commutes to
NYC a few times a week where he bones his secretary and has a penthouse with
the barest of furniture. The rest of the time he works from home.
I return to shopping and continue down the
aisle, in the opposite direction of the suit—it’s my way of finding out if he’s
actually creeping on me or not. I keep tabs on him in my peripheral vision as I
scope out more sales and more delicious, unhealthy food items. My job is to
balance out all the fruit and vegetables my sister, Marley, is currently picking
out in the produce section.
I grab a jar of the no-name peanut butter since
we’re out and the good stuff isn’t on sale, dropping it in the cart. My phone
keeps buzzing in my purse. It’s distracting, so I give up ignoring it and check
my messages.
It’s my sister.
We’re in the same store. It’s not particularly
huge, so I don’t know what could be so pressing that she needs to text four
thousand times instead of finding me.
ABORT SHOPPING
LEAVE NOW
Meet me in parking lot
RIAN??????
Jeez. What the heck is going on? Maybe the
grocery store is being robbed. Holy Hot Pockets. What if
there is a grocery store heist going down? I’m about to
abandon my cart in a bid to find Marley and escape the mayhem I’ve created in
my head. It’s all very dramatic. As I turn, I come face-to-face with the suit.
I suck in a breath and slap my hand over my
chest. The tank is still damp, and my skin’s a little gritty with salt-sweat,
so I drop it quickly, because ew.
“Hi.” His expression is hard to read. He seems …
smug.
“Hi, hey. Uh…” I wave a hand around in the air,
a little flustered, and conflicted, because it’s not often I get approached by
a guy this hot—and in a grocery store of all places. Maybe he’ll be here again
next week. “I’m sorry, I’d like to stare at your pretty face, I mean…” Crap,
why are words so hard? “I have to go.”
I try to step around him, but he mirrors the
movement, taking a linebacker stance, as if he’s considering tackling me. Which
is an odd way to stage an introduction.
“Recognize me?” he asks, one perfect eyebrow
arched.
As I take him in, I wrack my brain for a time or
place I might’ve run into him before. I don’t think so, though. His light brown
hair is neatly styled, and the cut of his suit highlights all of his assets.
Well, the visible PG ones, anyway.
He widens his stance and crosses his arms over
his chest. His very broad chest. The sleeves of his suit jacket pull tight,
biceps bulging and flexing. He’s a bit intimidating based on his size alone,
but we’re in a public grocery store, so I feel relatively safe. And he’s just
so gorgeous. Which is a silly reason not to be concerned, some of the most
notorious serial killers are attractive men. Also, I need to find my sister, in
case the grocery store is really under attack—although maybe this suit could
save us.
I adopt his crossed arm pose, but I don’t think
I look intimidating. All I succeed in doing is awkwardly squeezing my boobs
together inside my damp sports bra and jabbing the right one with the Sharpie.
“Should I?”
He looks me over, a slight smirk tipping his
mouth. His gaze gets stuck on the Sharpie for a few seconds before they come
back up to my eyes.
It’s possible I met him in a bar, but I swear
I’d remember his face if I did. The bar scene is also more my sister’s speed
than it is mine. Oh God. It’s also possible he’s mistaking me for her. It’s
happened before.
While we look nearly identical at first to most
people, we’re actually fraternal twins. After a few interactions, most people
can tell us apart. I have a distinctive Marilyn Monroe mole on the right side
above my lip, and my eyes are amber, where Marley’s are closer to green. My
mouth is too big for my face, my lips a little too full and my nose too small.
At least that’s my perception. Marley’s also the more outgoing of the two of us
and an inch taller. And about ten pounds lighter.
Marley is a little less cautious than I am with
men, so there have been a few uncomfortable occasions where her previous
hookups have approached me, asking why I haven’t returned their calls. It’s too
bad if this is the case, because this guy is inordinately attractive and it
would be nice if he wasn’t one of my sister’s castoffs.
His face is a masterpiece of masculine
perfection; straight nose, high cheekbones, an angular jawline that could cut
glass, full lips. Especially the bottom one. The kind of full that makes me
think of kissing, with tongue, of course. He’s all-American handsome with a
shot of alpha hotness. It’s a lethal combination for the state of my already
damp panties.
“I recognize you.” He has a low,
rough voice, like the delicious scrape of fine grit sandpaper.
He breaks me out of my ogle daze. He must think
I’m Marley. I’m actually rather disappointed. “I think maybe you’ve mistaken me
for someone else.”
“Oh no, sweetheart.” His gaze rakes over me
again. I feel very naked all of a sudden. And hot. It’s really hot in here.
“You drive a powder-blue Buick.”
“How the heck—”
“I knew it!” he shouts, eyes alight with some
kind of weird, victorious satisfaction as he points a long finger with a blue-black
nail at me. Maybe he slammed it in a door or something. Or based on the way
he’s rudely pointing, maybe someone slammed it for him. “I fucking knew it! You
hit my car.”
I definitely would’ve remembered hitting
someone’s car, especially if a guy this good looking was driving it. He should
probably come with a warning, like: Panties may combust if you get too close,
or something. I take a step back since he’s all up in my grill and clearly he’s
not looking to flirt like I originally thought. “I have absolutely no idea what
you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb with me! You think you can flip
your ponytail”—he reaches out and flicks the end, which is rather
startling—“flash a smile and some cleavage, and it’s going to get you out of
this. Well, think again, sweetheart. I guarantee my paint is still all over
your bumper.” He’s leaning over me, face way too close to mine. So close I can
see tiny gold flecks in his deep green eyes. They’re an unusual shade. Dark
like pine tree needles.
And he’s chewing gum. Juicy Fruit. I can smell
it when he breathes in my face. I would’ve expected a man like him to chew
something more along the lines of Polar Ice, or Arctic Ice—strong mint.
I put a hand on his chest and take one
deliberate step backward as he opens his mouth to resume his tangent. It’s a
solid chest. Extremely hard. His gaze darts down, brows furrowed. I use his
distracted state to my advantage. “First of all…” I point my finger in his
face, like he did to me. “Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me. That’s condescending.
Secondly, I’m sure I would’ve noticed if I’d hit another car. Thirdly, there
are literally hundreds of powder-blue Buicks in this stupid city. It’s not an
uncommon car. And I’d like to point out, that the cleavage comment was
completely unnecessary and unwarranted and actually, pretty damn sexist.”
He blinks a couple of times, possibly taken
aback. That expression doesn’t last long. His lip curls in a sneer and that
pretty all-American handsomeness morphs into downright malevolent hotness.
“Nice try, sweetheart. But there’s no way I’d forget you.” His gaze
sweeps over me—it’s not in an unappreciative way either.
I poke his hard chest. “Stop leering at me, you
pervert. I don’t know what kind of drugs you’ve been snorting, but I assure
you, you’ve got the wrong person.”
“Oh shit!” my sister’s voice comes from behind
me.
I turn to find Marley doing an about-face, and
then she breaks into a little grapevine step as she moves back toward me. Her
eyes are wide, mouth contorted into some kind of grimace as she grabs my wrist.
“What the fuck? There are two of you?” hot-crazy
guy asks, eyes bouncing between us.
“We gotta go.” Marley latches onto my hand and
drags me down the aisle, away from crazy-hot suit.
“Whoa! Wait a damn second!”
Hot suit makes a grab for me, but Marley yanks
me out of the way and shoves my shopping cart at him—hard. He’s not quite quick
enough to get out of the way, and the corner of the cart slams right into his
crotch. He doubles over with a groan and aggressively pushes the cart aside. It
ricochets into a display of canned peaches, which spill into the aisle with a
deafening crash.
“What the heck, Mar?”
“Come the fuck on!” She sprints down the aisle,
dragging me behind her. I’d protest, but I don’t think I have much choice in
the matter, considering the death grip she has on my hand, or the fact that
she’s assaulted the sexy-crazy suit with my shopping cart.
Marley fast-walks to the exit, glancing over her
shoulder. “Act natural.”
“Will you tell me what’s going on? Who is that
guy?”
She flips her hair over her shoulder and smiles
as we pass the cashiers and the automatic doors open. Marley fast-walks down
the sidewalk toward our car. “I may have tapped that guy’s car last Saturday
when I was shopping.”
I stop walking, which brings her to a jarring
halt. She yanks on my arm. “Seriously, come on. I’ll explain when we’re in the
car.”
“Nope. No way. You explain now.”
Her eyes are bouncing all over the place. “It’s
not a big deal. I just grazed his bumper.” Marley spin and tries to push me
forward from behind. “Now let’s get out of here before he finds us again. We
should probably shop somewhere else for a while.”
I stumble forward a step and then spin away from
her. “You hit that guy’s car?”
“It was more of a graze. At least I think it
was.” She wrings her hands and makes her oh crap face.
Now crazy-hot suit guy seems a lot less crazy
and much more justified in his reaction. Except for the cleavage comment. That
was still unnecessary. “It sure didn’t seem like nothing with the way he
freaked out in there.”
“He’s probably overreacting. Where are your
keys?” She’s still wringing her hands.
I pat my hip with the intention of keeping my
purse safe and away from my sister. Except all I end up patting is my actual
hip. I look down, running my hands over my stomach, searching for the cheap,
faux-leather knockoff. “Oh fudge.”
“What?”
“My purse. It’s in the cart. I have to go back
and get it.”
Marley grabs the back of my tank. “You can’t!
What if he’s still in there?”
“It has my identification in it, Marley. And my
bankcards, and my money, and keys to the car and the apartment. I can’t leave
it in there!”
Marley flails and paces around in a circle.
“What if he’s waiting for us to come back and get it?”
“You can stay here if you want, but I’m going
back for it. I’m not leaving my purse behind because you hit some guy’s car in
a parking lot. I can’t believe you just drove away!”
“I thought I tapped it, and then I panicked.”
Her fingers are at her mouth now. “I didn’t want to drive up our insurance
premiums over some guy and his Tesla.”
“You hit a Tesla?” This keeps getting worse.
“Anyone who has the money to buy a Tesla has the
money to fix it, right?” Marley says.
“So you drove off! Jeez, Marley. What were you
thinking?” I shake my head. I’d like to say I’m surprised by this, but sadly
I’m not. Marley doesn’t always use common sense in day-to-day life.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. That’s the
problem, I guess.”
I’m about to go back into the store, but stop
short at the sight of the suit leaning against the side of my car, one ankle
crossed over the other, all calm like. Dangling from a single finger is my
knockoff, hot-pink Coach purse. “Forget something?”
Copyright © 2018 by Helena Hunting in I Flipping Love You and reprinted with
permission from St. Martin’s Paperbacks.
Kim's 5 Star Review
Rian Sutter had everything given
to her growing up until her parents screw up and it was all taken away. Rian and her twin sister, Marley were left
with almost nothing, having to rebuild their life and their reputation. Pierce Whitfield has done everything has
father expected of him including what career he would chose. Unfortunately, his job isn’t going the way
his father had planned. Now that Pierce can take some time off, he jumps at the
chance.
I was gifted this book in
exchange for an honest review.
Rian had everything taken away
from her but she didn’t let that hold her back.
Working hard to get back some of what she and her sister had hasn’t been
easy, but they are doing what they love.
Her sister has kept life interesting for them and that includes hit and
runs. Rian is strong, independent woman
who has a guarded heart. Being left
behind by her parents has kept her for truly living. Keeping the secret of what
her parents did isn’t easy but any time people find out they end up walking
away.
Pierce’s work life is up in the
air so he jumped at the chance to spending time with his brother, Lawson in the Hampton's. Lawson may work for their father
but he’s always spending his spare time dabbling in the Realty Market by
flipping houses or renovating them and renting them out. This time away for the hustle and bustle of
New York has shown Pierce that being a patent lawyer isn’t in the right job and
that flipping houses or doing manual labour is the job he should be doing.
Pierce has a strong will and a sense of loyalty that holds him to a job that he
doesn’t want. When it comes to the
people he cares about he will do anything for them.
Even tho Rian and Marley are not
identical twins they look so much alike that Pierce mistakes Rian for her
sister, Marley who was the one that actually hit his car. I love that Rian defended her sister without
knowing if her sister really did it. What
Rian doesn’t know is that Pierce may be the only one to break down the wall she
has spent the past few years building.
When Pierce shows how persistent he is to get to know her, even when she
keeps turning him down. Pierce has no problem acknowledging the attraction
between him and Rian but he can’t understand why she is fighting it.
It was like fate intervenes and
Rian ends up staying at a beach house that is owned but Pierce and his
brother. On top of that the friends they
were supposed to be staying with end up canceling as their dog was sick. Rian and her sister stay at the beach house
only to find out the maintenance guy who was cutting the lawn is Pierce
himself. He takes the opportunity to get
help from Marley, and Pierce finally gets Rian to give him a chance and go out
with him.
Helena hooked me from the moment
I started reading her book. She created characters
that draw you in and keep you wanting more.
I felt like I was a part of the book as I read it. The ups and downs and twists in the story kept
me up late at night. I absolutely loved
this book. Helena brings stories and characters
to her readers that leave a lasting impression, and that is a true sign of an
amazing writer!
About the Author
NYT and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
Connect with Helena
Erika Wilde (aka Janelle Denison) is the USA Today bestselling author of over 50 contemporary romances for multiple print publishers.
