on January 19, 2016
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Single mom Vanessa Holt has a daughter she loves, a supportive family, and her art. Having given up on finding true love—if that even exists, which she doubts—she’s content to put romance on the back burner. But not everyone agrees. Those nearest and dearest are ready to see Vanessa let down her long blonde hair and have some fun.
To put their grumbling to rest, Vanessa agrees to go on a date with the next man who asks. Luckily for her, that man is Cameron Thomas, her daughter’s extremely handsome science teacher. She’d felt a spark of chemistry the first time she’d laid eyes on him. Now she’s ready to lay a whole lot more on the sexy bachelor.
But just as things get hot, they also get heavy. When the man who broke Vanessa’s heart reappears, her old doubts and fears about love rush to the surface. Will her fresh start with Cameron be over before it’s barely begun?
Christine just started reading this one and is loving it so far! Make sure to enter the flash giveaway below for a signed paperback of this book.
Walking with my head down, I trek through the throng of parents until I’m sitting toward the back of the classroom in a seat that was not made to fit an adult’s body. Absentmindedly, I start to thumb through the packet of papers left on each of the desks by Bill Nye, when I hear the door shut and a man’s voice say, “Good evening, parents. Welcome to my science class. My name is Mr. Thomas.”
My head perks up because that voice . . . it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It’s smooth and decadent, like a shot of perfectly aged whiskey that when it hits the back of your throat, the warmth that spreads to your body and makes you want to curl up into a blanket after stretching your limbs like a cat taking an afternoon nap.
And the visual of Bill Nye, sorry, Mr. Thomas, matches the voice, which never seems to be the case where men are concerned. At least I’ve never seen it happen anywhere as perfectly as this man right in front of me.
He’s tall, very tall, and broad shouldered but not bulky or anything, more like athletic. He looks as if he spends a lot of time carrying things, which has paid off in spades from the way his muscular arms flex underneath his clothes. His jet-black hair is combed back perfectly, and there’s not one stray hair that I can see from where I’m sitting . . . and I’m really looking. His wire-rimmed eyeglasses only prove to showcase his equally dark dead-of-night brown eyes. Oh my, Sherlock was right: brainy is the new sexy.
But the piece de résistance is the clothes. My God, the clothes. My most naughty teenage fantasy made real: he’s wearing a tweed suit like an old-school college professor. Like Professor Indiana Jones himself came to life and stepped off the movie screen and is now standing right in front of me in all his adorably dorky, aloof hotness, packaged perfectly in the guise of a random science teacher in Anytown, USA.
Mr. Thomas is drop-dead gorgeous. And I’m so going to get an A in this class.
Wait! What the hell am I thinking?
I’m not getting an A in anything. I’m just going to chalk up this little drool fest to the fact that I’m not usually attracted to men I meet. I do have very singular tastes and apparently this man fits into my tastes quite well. Perfectly, actually. Like a glove.
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