Blurb:
The last thing
they're looking for is love …
Laura Matheson is a natural at avoiding romance, so when she
is drawn to mystery guest Daniel Stone while helping out at her friends' hotel
in Portugal, she assumes all she needs is a little extra willpower.
Daniel is at the hotel on business. The demands of work and
a manipulative ex-girlfriend mean he doesn't have the time or energy for
romance, but Laura is a distraction he finds hard to ignore.
As they negotiate a minefield of misunderstandings and
mutual attraction, will they both continue to hold back? Or will they finally
allow love into their lives?
Buy Links:
Amazon US:
Amazon UK:
Barnes & Noble:
Kobo:
Smashwords:
About the Author:
Helen
Pollard writes contemporary romance with old-fashioned heart. She believes
there will always be a place for romantic fiction, no matter how fast-paced and
cynical the world becomes. Readers still want that feel-good factor – to escape
from their own world for a while and see how a budding romance can blossom and
overcome adversity to develop into love … and we all need a little love, right?
A
Yorkshire lass, Helen is married, with two teenagers and a psychotic cat. When she's
not working or writing, it goes without saying that she loves to read. She also
enjoys a good coffee in a quiet bookshop, and appreciates the company of family
and close friends.
Website & Blog: http://helenpollardwrites.wordpress.com
Facebook: http://facebook.com/pages/Helen-Pollard/372986142839624
Twitter: http://twitter.com/helenpollard147
Tsu: http://tsu.co/HelenPollard
Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/author/show/8647878.Helen_Pollard
Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/helenpollard
Excerpt from Chapter
One:
"Excuse me. You've picked up the wrong bag."
Deep and decisive, the voice startled Laura from behind as
she loaded her luggage onto her hard-won airport trolley.
"No, I don't think so." She swung round to confront
the voice's owner. Unnerved to find him towering over her, she took a step
back, stumbling over her trolley in the process.
With lightning speed, he reached out to catch her arm, his
grip strong as he helped her regain her balance. When she was upright again,
she took in piercing blue eyes, thick dark brown hair, a hint of stubble on a
tanned face—and felt an immediate jolt of attraction.
Laura ignored it. "I can manage, thank you," she
snapped, thinking she wouldn't have tripped if he hadn't surprised her like
that.
He released his hold and raised an eyebrow. "As I said,
you have my bag."
Pushing away long strands of chestnut-brown hair that had
dared escape their ponytail, Laura returned his gaze.
"No, this is definitely mine." She was hot,
harassed, and late. The last thing she needed was a futile argument over her
own luggage!
"Would you mind if I check?"
"Help yourself." Unable to disguise her impatience,
Laura waved at it, adding, "But I am in a hurry."
She winced at the hostile tone in her voice, but she really didn't have time for this. Tapping her foot in irritation, she waited to be proved right as he crouched over her trolley.
She winced at the hostile tone in her voice, but she really didn't have time for this. Tapping her foot in irritation, she waited to be proved right as he crouched over her trolley.
"Would you care to look?" he asked.
Laura's foot stopped tapping. Recognising undisguised triumph
on his face, she read the label over his shoulder with trepidation, but there
it was in black and white—Daniel Stone, London Gatwick to Porto. The heat that
rose in her cheeks seemed to burn right through her skin.
"But it's the same as mine!" she blustered,
watching with embarrassment as he hoisted the heavy bag from the trolley with
ease.
"It's hardly a unique design," he commented,
shrugging broad shoulders. "If you weren't in such a tearing hurry, you
might have spotted your own on the carousel."
Laura spun around to see her bag riding forlornly around with
the few that were left. Mortified, she opened her mouth to apologise.
But he spoke first. "Personally, I would advocate that
old saying 'More haste, less speed.'" His tone softened a little as he
added, "I'm sorry, but you're not the only hot, tired person whose flight
was delayed, you know." And off he strolled through the terminal, his bag
flung over his shoulder, without a backward glance.
