About The Consequqnce of Seduction
From New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Rachel Van Dyken.
Reid Emory has never had reason to question his luck with the ladies. As the owner of a lethal set of aqua-blue eyes and a devastating grin, this Hollywood heartthrob always brings his A game…but lately his luck seems to have run out. The actor is in need of some help, and there’s only one person he can trust to take his love life—and his career—to an explosive new level.
Jordan Litwright’s newest client is trying her patience. As a publicist, she’s more than content to stay in the background and let others shine. But when a publicity stunt backfires, she suddenly finds herself thrust into the spotlight—as Reid’s new love interest. And while other men usually overlook her, Reid is focusing in with laserlike intensity. There’s no denying they have serious chemistry.
But once Reid breaks into the big time, can they turn their made-for-the-media romance into a forever love?
Excerpt
Max jumped onto
the couch and held up his hands. “Before you do this, remember, our mother has
a Jesus sticker on her car. What would she say?”
“Must you bring
her into everything?” Reid roared, stopping in front of the couch, chest
heaving.
Max shrugged.
“It’s not my fault I’m her favorite son.”
“Says who?”
“Mom. This
morning.”
“Was this before
or after you added vodka to her coffee and slipped her a pill?”
Max gasped.
Becca made her
way around the brothers and motioned for me to walk with her toward the
kitchen. No words were spoken. She simply popped the cork from the wine bottle
and poured what looked like three servings into a glass and slid it toward me.
“Believe me, it helps.”
I took the glass
and sipped while she drank straight from the bottle. “Does he ever . . . stop
being . . . Max?” I asked. “Curious minds want to know.”
Max jumped off
the couch, and naturally he made his own swish sound effect before landing on
his feet, thrusting his hands into the air, and turning toward Reid. “I’ve been
her favorite ever since I won at gymnastics.”
“You don’t win
at gymnastics,” Reid said through clenched teeth. “You get scored.”
“Perfect ten.”
Max winked back at us, then covered his mouth and said, “Zero,” while pointing
to Reid.
“We were six!”
Reid argued.
“Dude!” Max held
up his hands. “I’m just saying, it’s not your fault you’re not the favorite.
Let it go, man, just like Rose let go of Jack.”
“Who’s Jack?” I
whispered.
Becca choked on
her wine. “Oh, well, uh, last year Reid had a momentary breakdown because of
Max peer pressuring me to shoot Reid in the ass with a tranq gun . . . he spent
an hour singing ‘My Heart Will Go On.’” I winced. “Off-key.”
“Damn you!” Reid
turned on his heel and thrust his finger in our direction. “What did I ever do
to you!” I think he was talking to Becca. “I hit on you once, one time—”
“—thrice.” Max
coughed.
“And the only
reason was so that I could get back at this one.” He jerked his hand back to
Max, nearly hitting him in the face. “Because he told Grandma the lock on my
door was broken. I was taken advantage of!”
“Well, it was!”
Max rolled his eyes.
“Because you
took a sledgehammer to it, you bastard!”
Max grinned.
“Guilty.”
Honestly, I
wasn’t sure what they were talking about. So I did what any sane girl would do.
I drank.
And when my
glass was nearly empty, Becca very kindly refilled it while Reid and Max
continued pacing around the living room.
“You think if we
chant fight, they’ll take their shirts off?” Becca asked.
I eyed Reid’s
near perfect physique. “One can only hope.”
“Dirty girls,”
Max shouted. “Both of you! Jezebel! I won’t have you poisoning her mind!”
“Oh, please.” I
rolled my eyes. “And stop calling me a whore!”
“Term of
endearment when Max says it.” Becca patted my hand. “Next time just say thank
you. It’s easier that way.”
I glanced back
at the guys just in time to see Reid launch himself at Max, hands wrapped
tightly around his neck, holding him against the couch while Max screamed.
“Help, help!”
“We should
probably intervene.” Becca took a long sip of wine and set her glass down on
the table, then yawned.
“Yeah.” Max
started turning purple. “We probably should. What do you normally do? Take off
your top? Blow a whistle? Call the cops?”
“Cops refuse to
come when Emorys call—believe me, it’s like the whole McDonald’s thing. Public
service refuses to help them now.”
“Makes sense.”
Max made a
choking noise while he tried to kick Reid in the shin.
“Oh, well.”
Becca walked slowly toward the guys. I followed. I expected her to gently ask
them to stop fighting and separate them.
Instead, she
punched Reid in the face and then separated them.
He stumbled
back.
I caught him and
fell backward against the other couch while he rubbed his face and whispered,
“My hero.”
“My lungs broke
your fall,” I wheezed.
Max gasped for
air. “You know my biggest fear is not breathing!”
“Not breathing?”
I had to ask, I just had to.
Reid chuckled.
“For six years Max was convinced every food was going to cause him to go into
anaphylactic shock because Oprah did a segment where some chick nearly died
after eating a kiwi!”
“A kiwi!” Max
repeated hoarsely. “Who dies from kiwi? That chick.” He shook his head
vigorously. “I refuse to go down eating.”
Reid moved off
me and sat back on the couch. “He took Benadryl every time he ate fruit.”
Max narrowed his
eyes. “Make fun now, but we both know that watermelon gave me hives! My throat
closed, you bastard!”
“Maybe if you
took smaller bites . . .” Reid said helpfully.
Max lunged
again.
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor. She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband, adorable son, and two snoring boxers! She loves to hear from readers! Want to be kept up to date on new releases?
Text MAFIA to 66866! You can connect with her on Facebook www.facebook.com/rachelvandyken or join her fan group Rachel's New Rockin Readers. Her website is www.rachelvandykenauthor.com
No comments:
Post a Comment